Day 4 -- Channel Islands National Park

The kids were not excited about the early call-time today, but they were packed and ready to roll by 6:45 a.m., and we were at Ventura Harbor by 7, checking in for the boat ride to Channel Islands National Park.

 

I read an article in The New York Times this week about how U.S. national parks are swamped with visitors now that Americans are largely freed from domestic travel restrictions. For sure, except for the mask requirement inside the boat cabin, today’s excursion felt like any other peak-season national park trip we’ve taken, as the ferry was packed to capacity with about 150 passengers and no empty seats.

It was an exquisite day: blues skies and calm water. For parts of the hourlong ferry trip, we were escorted by hundreds and hundreds of dolphins that frolicked and leapt in our wake, and at one point we detoured off course to get a closer look at a juvenile humpback whale. 

 

There are five islands that make up Channel Islands National Park. We were headed to the largest one, Santa Cruz, about 20 miles from Ventura Harbor. There are 31 primitive campgrounds on the island, so some of the ferry passengers were geared up for a couple of nights on the trail. 

 

Many of the day-trippers, like us, were there for guided kayak tours with Santa Barbara Adventure Co., the sole concessionaire in the park, and when we disembarked at Scorpion Anchorage, we followed the crowd straight to a small beach shack to check in. 

 

Within a few minutes, the throng of visitors was divided into smaller groups of seven or eight people, and each group was assigned a guide. Our group included two women, Anne and Jenny, good friends from Redlands, Calif. Our guide, Addison, outfitted us with life vests, helmets and paddles, and soon we were ready to launch our kayaks. 

 

We paddled together along the coast, enjoying views of the shoreline, the towering cliffs and soaring squadrons of pelicans and cormorants. Often called the Galapagos of North America, Channel Islands National Park is home to more than 2,000 species of plants and animals; 145 of them are found nowhere else on Earth. The islands provide essential nesting and feeding ground for almost all of the seabirds in southern California, and the park is the only major breeding colony of California brown pelicans in the western U.S.

Below us, kelp forests glowed green-gold in the turquoise waters, and traffic-cone orange Garibaldi the size of salad plates darted amongst the billowing stalks. The waters surrounding the national park – 1,500 square miles of ocean – teem with marine life and are protected as Channel Islands National Marine Sanctuary.

The Garibaldi the official marine fish of California (photo from the internet).

 

A short distance up the coast, Addison suggested that we check out some of the caves carved into the steep cliff faces. The first cave was a wide-open maw that terminated in a short, gravely beach. The cave was big enough that the five boats in our group could easily paddle in together and still maintain a safe distance from the seals lounging on the rocks.  

After that, the caves got a little smaller, space got a little tighter, the degree of difficulty definitely increased … and we found out why we needed to wear helmets. Most of the cave entrances were so narrow that there was no room for error as we surged forward on the ocean swells. If our aim was off by just a smidgeon, instead of slipping into the cave entrance, the boats could have gotten stuck under a low-hanging rock shelf, or, worse, slammed into the cliff walls. 

 

Some of the entrances were so low that we had to duck to avoid hitting our heads. A couple of times we had to lie almost flat inside the kayak to fit. Addison taught us to lean backward—to do The Limbo – rather than to lean forward. If you lean forward to fit through a small space and then get stuck or pinned, your face is in your lap, you can’t see where you are and you can’t use your paddle; you’re helpless. But if you lean backward, you can look up and around, and your arms and paddle are free for maneuvering.

Our paddles worked as buffers, and we were able to thrust them against the rocks to shift course and prevent collision. Addison instructed us to just drop the paddles if they ever got caught on boulders as we surfed past. A lost paddle is no big deal. But a paddle wedged between a rock and a swiftly moving kayak creates all kinds of havoc, including but not limited to: a broken paddle, a broken arm, or an overturned boat. 

 

We also discovered that a hand or a foot hanging over the edge of the kayak also is in danger of being wedged into a rocky crook, and a foot or a hand is not so easily dropped and left behind if it gets stuck. We quickly learned to keep all appendages inside the boat. 

We entered one tight entrance one-by-one to discover that it opened into a wide grotto, then took turns following Addison even deeper into the cave, through a tiny passageway at the back. Keith, Clare and Charlie went first, their path illuminated only by Addison’s flashlight. After a moment or two, the light and their voices disappeared completely into the void. Natalie and I waited with Anne and Jenny in the first cavern. The ocean waves ricocheted against the walls creating a restless chop that buffeted and battered our kayaks while we wondered if the first group would ever return. 

 

After what seemed like several minutes – in reality it was only a minute or two – the group reemerged from the dark back cave, and then it was our turn to go. The swells funneling into the narrow opening created a strong current that propelled us along and spit us out into another pitch-black room, where we spun around on the eddies and then aimed for the exit and pushed ourselves back out. 

 

The cave exploration was truly exhilarating: riding the waves and squeezing through chutes like logs on a flume ride. I said this out-loud. Apparently the kids have never heard the word “flume,” and to them it sounded like some kind of fusty, old-timey jargon. Their eyes bugged out and they tittered as if I had plopped from the sky into my kayak in a flapper dress and feathers, and exclaimed, “Aw, applesauce! This sockdollager is positively berries!”** What? Who doesn’t know what a flume is? Anyone who’s never been to Valleyfair, that’s who. Sheesh.

 

** “Oh shit. This important event is really wonderful,” in 1920s slang.

 

After our kayak tour, we found a picnic table near the beach and ate the lunch that we had packed in our cooler. We had a little more than an hour before the ferry left for the mainland, so Keith, Clare and Natalie donned rented wet suits and gear for a quick snorkel excursion in the cove, where Natalie, our certified wildlife spotter, found a ray and an octopus hanging out in the kelp forest. 

 

In the meantime, Charlie and I lounged on the beach and glimpsed a few island foxes – kitten sized cuties that live only on the Channel Islands; they are found nowhere else in the world.

 

On the return ferry ride, we were escorted again by hundreds of dolphins churning the water in every direction and leaping in unison -- sometimes four or five dolphins in a row. Spectacular.

 

Back on the mainland, we piled back into the van and pointed ourselves farther up the coast. We drove straight through Santa Barbara and didn’t stop until we got to El Capitán Canyon, a campground of sorts, with yurts, safari tents and cedar cabins set amidst ancient sycamore trees on 350 acres between the Santa Ynez mountains and the Pacific Ocean.

 

This place is like the swankiest KOA you’ve ever seen, with beautifully landscaped grounds, an upscale market and espresso bar, a spa, a meditation garden and a llama farm – and wine tasting events and live music on the weekends. 

 

It was almost 7 when we rolled in, and the market was about to close. So we grabbed some firewood, some gourmet hot dogs and buns, a s’mores kit and a bottle of wine before heading to our cabin. 

 

I say “gourmet” because the bill was more than $100, so they’d better not be just any-old Oscar Mayer weenies. We found out later that the $20 s’mores kit didn’t even include marshmallows. It was an oversight, I guess, because we called, and they were promptly delivered to us.

 

The accommodations are strung out along the dry bed of the El Capitán Creek, and we had to drive several minutes up into the canyon to get to our cabin. I’m disappointed that we’re not closer to the market, where there is an inviting lawn with shaded tables and lawn games. When I made the reservation, I didn’t realize everything was so spaced out. I guess we won’t be hanging out there tonight.

 

While I’m surprised that the grounds are so sprawling, I’m also surprised that our cabin is so … not sprawling. When we drove up to unload our packs, the kids snorted, “That’s it? For ALL of us?” 

 

It is tiny. But somehow it has six beds: two sets of bunks, and two mattresses tucked into a tiny loft. But it’s cute, with wood floors and wood paneling, large windows and a miniscule kitchenette. There is no air conditioning, and the cabin has been sealed up for who-knows-how-long. It was about 120 degrees inside when we arrived. We opened all the windows and turned on a fan, so hopefully it will be cool enough for Keith and me to sleep in the loft tonight.

Somehow we can have a campfire in the fire ring outside of our cabin?! I don’t know how campfires are allowed anywhere in California right now. Maybe we’re close enough to the coast, so it doesn’t matter. Of course, to start a fire, you need matches, which we completely forgot about on our last-minute market spree. I drove all the way to the front gate where they gave me a spare matchbook, and I drove back and gave it to Charlie, who had been tasked with starting a fire. He was already tired and crabby and disappointed by the tight accommodations. And then he was even crabbier because he had firewood, but no axe, no firestarter and only a measly bar-counter book of matches to work with.

But, he succeeded. And we all felt better after a yummy meal of gourmet hot dogs over the fire.

We played National Park Matching Game on the floor of the cabin after it had cooled down. Clare won the whole game because she made the Channel Islands National Park match.