Channel Islands

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November 18 – 22, 2004
Ken Campbell

The Santa Barbara Channel Islands are a group of seven located just off the southern California coast. Although I am originally from Santa Barbara and have done several previous trips to and around Anacapa Island, I have never visited Santa Cruz Island and have not previously done any inter-island crossings.

I caught the Island Packers shuttle from Ventura Harbor to Scorpion Anchorage at 11am on the 18th. (Although it is possible to get to the islands under paddle-power, most who make the channel crossing go from Channel Islands Harbor to Anacapa, a distance of about 12 miles. The crossing to Scorpion is quite a bit longer, and my reasons for being here had more to do with the island paddling scene itself than with any long open-water crossings). The boat ride took about an hour, and when we pulled into the small wharf at the anchorage, the unloading process went smoothly and quickly. Although this is a very busy place during the summer months, there were only two of us on board who were planning to stay longer than the day; the handful of other travelers would be returning when the boat came back later in the afternoon.

After I got camp set up in the beautiful eucalyptus-shaded campground area, I headed straight for the water. Just to the east of the wharf, I came across the first of what would seem like thousands of sea caves. I had paddled in the caves out at Anacapa before, and the ones here were similar, but they seemed even more plentiful. Sheer cliffs rose up from the water, soaring two or three hundred feet. The base of these cliffs was riddled with caves, the result of centuries of water-wear on the rock. Many were large enough to paddle into, and I backed my way into some of the larger caverns, watching over my shoulder for submerged rocks with one eye, while the other glanced seaward for any incoming waves. Although the wind had increased since I landed on the island, the water inside the caves was relatively free from any swells, and the surface rose and fell rhythmically as I paused to examine these wonderful rooms in the rock.

The next day was very windy, with gusts coming out of the northwest at well over 20 knots. I planned on catching the boat again when it arrived at Scorpion that afternoon, and using it as a ferry up the coast to Prisoner's Harbor, then paddling the 10 miles back to where I began. Once I got on the boat and we headed into the wind, I could tell that I would be in for a workout on my way home. The powerful Island Packers boat slammed into the oncoming rollers, and the wind blew the tops off of the waves on all sides as we pummeled our way to the destination.

I walked around for a half-hour or so when we got to Prisoner's Harbor, admiring the old red-brick ranch building sitting at the base of some small hills just up from the beach. This is an access point for another camping area, but it lay more than 3 miles away, up an old ranch road, and I didn't have enough daylight to go there and still make it back to Scorpion before dark. Once I got out of the scant protection of Prisoner's Harbor, the swells hit me full-force, and the ride back was little more than a two-plus hour session of bracing practice. The wind waves were irregular in size and timing, and coming at me from the side, so I had to stay well offshore in order to miss the reefs and sunkers that marked the coastline. It wasn't until I was almost back to my starting point that I was able to get into the lee of the cliffs and explore a few new caves before finishing up for the day.

The morning of the next day was calm, and I had promised myself earlier that if the weather improved, I would spend a day making a crossing to Anacapa Island, the next island to the east, about a 22-mile round-trip. (The crossing itself is just a little under 4 nautical miles, but from Scorpion to the one landing spot on Anacapa, and back, would be certain to use up most of the day.) A lone sea lion on the beached watched as I departed.

Although the day was dawning sunny and relatively warm, there was a thick haze that had settled on the water, and I had to rely on my compass to find my way across the channel that separates Santa Cruz and Anacapa. When I got within a mile or so of the island's western tip, I could begin to make out some of the details of the landscape, and I paddled steadily on until I reached the point. I progressed slowly along the outer, seaward side of Western Anacapa, and stopped for a few minutes at Frenchy's Cove to stretch my legs before continuing on. The coastline was punctuated by intricate rock gardens of varying size and shapes, and huge expanses of kelp kept the force of the swells to a minimum.

There is only one place to legally come ashore on Anacapa and have access to the interior, a tiny anchorage called Landing Cove, located near the eastern end of East Anacapa Island. To disembark here from a kayak involves a good deal of muscle and grace, as you have to tie the boat off to a dock and pull yourself up a ladder to the wharf that clings to the rocky cliff like a limpet. Normally, I would have had to raise my kayak to the surface of the wharf using a davit that is located on the dock, but there were other kayaks already there and when I told the ranger that I would only be staying for an hour or so, she said it would be ok to leave the kayak where it was. I double checked the lines that held the boat to the ladder, then climbed the staircase to the top of the island.

Anacapa is a series of 3 islands, East, Middle and West, that are connected, but only just. It has nearly vertical walls on all sides and the total land area of the entire island is about 1 square mile. The only campground is located on East Anacapa, along with the ranger's quarters, a small museum and the picturesque Anacapa light. I walked the trails to Inspiration Point, which overlooks the other parts of the island, and I could see that the haze that had dominated the morning was starting to burn off. I could barely make out the coast of Santa Cruz Island off in the western distance, and the realization of just how much paddling I had left to do forced me back down to the kayak a little earlier than I would have liked.

The return trip was uneventful, although the wind had started to build again, which made it seem a lot more difficult than the morning session. I could see my destination, however, and that simple pleasure always makes paddling a bit easier. When my hull scraped the beach back at Scorpion, I had about a half-hour of daylight left.

That night, I was awakened several times by the sound of the wind in the trees above me. I knew, within a few minutes of getting out of the tent in the morning, that I wouldn't be kayaking anywhere that day. When I went out to the beach to check on the boat, I saw whitecaps stretching off in all directions, and the water that I had traveled across the day before was now a turbulent sea of breaking whitewater.

I packed a snack and went for a hike across the ridge to Smuggler's Cove, on the southern shore of the island. The trail followed an old ranch road that was remarkably well-maintained, except in a few of the steeper sections. The 3-plus mile hike carried me over treeless hills and across wind-blown pastures; signs of the area's previous life as a working sheep ranch were still in evidence. Piles of rock that had been cleared from the fields by ranch hands, along with sections of fenceline that were still standing, showed how the land had been used before it became a National Park.

The beach at Smuggler's Cove was a rocky half-moon, where waves crashed ashore unhindered. A stand of blue gum eucalyptus shimmered in the wind and led me up the old road to the ranch house, an elegant two-storey structure of sandstone and stucco. I picked an orange from the tree at the patio, and soaked up the sun on the courtyard. I was the only one there.

I left the island the next day the same way I'd arrived, making the one-hour trip back to civilization with a boat-load of other passengers. I didn't want to finish just yet, but other obligations called. Still, I know I'll be back. Even with all the paddling I did, I only saw the two eastern islands in the park… there are others. Santa Rosa and San Nicholas Islands are the two that lie to the west of Santa Cruz, and I have a feeling that's where I'll head next.

Anybody else want to go?