Californians: Santa Cruz Island

Life got a little wacky this past week. Mack worked more than 100 hours in 8 days and in two cities, and our sailing trip to Catalina got cancelled. Since I was off work for said sailing trip, I decided to join him for his final leg of working in Ventura. And take a ferry to Santa Cruz Island.

Santa Cruz is one of the Channel Islands, which have National Park designation. How could it not be absolutely incredible? I read about sailing to the Channel Islands during the post-move runaway to Ventura (long story) when I spotted them off the coast and got an urge to go there. The article made a point to say it's not a place for Anchoring 101, but since Mack and I have dropped the anchor exactly one time for less than an hour, we are clearly Anchoring 102 now. We are ready to sail to the Channel Islands, where fog, weird currents, and gale gusts are the norm.

I decided to call my day trip to California paradise "research" because it made me feel like less of an asshole to be out having an awesome time while work tried to kill Mack.

I caught the ferry and off we went into the marine layer. The swells were there trying to beckon my seasickness, but I resisted the temptation to drug myself. Instead I laid my head down on the table in the galley area and thought about kittens and M&Ms for an hour.

When we landed at the dock, we climbed up a little metal ladder and time warped thru Scorpion Anchorage.

Santa Cruz used to be an entire island ranch dedicated to sheep rearing and shearing. Now it's a land of hikes along bluffs and coastal caves and giant bluejays and tiny foxes. I juuuusst made it to the campground when I got my first peek at a tiny fox. I slowed down, acted invisible, and quickly discovered they couldn't care less about people. They acted like cats and looked like little dogs.

I only had a few hours to explore so I chose to do two hikes, one to Cavern Point and from there to Potato Harbor. Cavern Point boasted "extraordinary bluff views" and Potato Harbor was a doable distance given my time frame. Off I went.

The landscape, except for a wind sock on a hill, was essentially untouched. I walked through yellow-flowered shrubs, pink succulents, dry grasses, clusters of little mini forests that looked like a place Smurfs would live, dandelions on steroids, wild white morning glory, tall stick hallways. The plant life came in boluses and was different all along my hike. I had no idea what I was looking at, but it was amazing.

California's coast is widely known for its breathtaking views. The trips I have taken up Hwy 1 always take twice as long because you HAVE to pull over at every turn to pause to soak up the beauty you are seeing. That being said, the views on Santa Cruz Island required you to sit down and stare, filling your brain with wows and oh my gods and what an incredible world we live on. Just look.

I assume that Cavern Point is so named because it has little caves all along it, caves that kayakers go exploring. The water around the coast looks remarkably calm and serene, but that was probably just the luck of the day. I overheard some kayakers say exploring was the easy part but paddling back to their take-out point sucked because they had to go against the current. Nothing about it sucked from a hiker's perspective!

One of the my favorite sights was the kelp forest. Normally I think of kelp and think of smelly bulbs and waxy leaves drawing flies all over the beach, but this kelp at Santa Cruz looked like a swirl of paint, beautiful the same way the rainbow from an oil slick is. It was mesmerizing, from its movement to its colors -- so much so I'd say it was therapeutic.

As I made my way from Cavern Point to Potato Harbor, I was forced to take in more brain exploding beautiful vistas. Nevertheless, I forged onward.

From high on the bluff you could see the draw for kayakers. There are dozens of little nooks that would be so fun to explore. Like this one, seen up there from afar.

Watching the ocean was like watching a living canvas. The kelp swayed like a well-worn brush, boats painted white ribbons across the blue green water, and pods of dolphins speckled the surface with a texture all their own. Nature is magical.

By far my favorite part of the day was the hike into Potato Harbor. I walked along a service road, mostly in solitude and swelling with gratitude. It smelled like hay and salty air. I watched birds overhead and lizards run across the path. This was very important research I was doing.

As I rounded back to the ocean, I saw Potato Harbor. A guy was laying out on a ridge with the best view, so I got all up in his relaxing space to get a taste of the sights. I'm sure I said something incredibly clever like, "Wow, isn't this beautiful?" and he responded with, "Yeah, it seems like it deserves a better name than Potato Harbor."

I'm not sure if boats are allowed to anchor in Potato Harbor. I saw a couple down in there, maybe fishing or being support for kayakers, but a lot of the coast of Santa Cruz is protected and you can't anchor. If it's allowed, we are going there.

After my hike, I headed back to the campground and ate lunch under a giant fig tree. Because the day hadn't been incredible enough, two little fox pups came out to say hi. I died.

I decided to spend the last hour on the island with my feet in the sand and taking a nap under the shade of a cliff on the beach. It was so relaxing I had to set my alarm on my phone so I wouldn't sleep thru my ferry home. 

As we left the island I finally encountered a sailboat. Actually two sailboats. One was anchored just on the other side of the rocks from Scorpion Anchorage and another was sailing toward the same spot. I also got a glimpse of Anacapa Island, which, after this Santa Cruz experience, is on the GO SEE IT DAMMIT list. Research pays off.

Here's to you California. You are heaven on earth. Heaven that makes its own beer.

Well, Renee is hilarious and Kieron is freaky strong.

I got to see two of the rottens during Spring Break, and oh my god they are awesome. Renee is a jokester and performer and wave wrangler, and Kieron is a surf runner and a little bit of a thief and made of steel.

When I picked them up from Gigi's house, she said to me thru the window just before we pulled away, "You will be so tired." Truer words were never spoken.

We played Mother May I at least 100 times. They kicked my butt at Uno. Mack managed to get them to do some work and scrub the bottom of the dinghy. He also taught Kieron how to use bolt cutters. We went to Lego Land, where Renee felt up a Lego girl. Kieron navigated tide pools in cowboy boots without falling on the craggy rocks once. We went for pedicures. They are bad, they are whiny, but they have an amazing ability to squeeze fun out of nothingness.

Now that I'm rested, I can't wait for them to come back.

Californians: Super Blooms

Last spring, I read all the articles and clicked all the links to the desert wildflower super blooms. I explored them through the computer screen or my tiny little phone and came up with excuses for not seeing them in person. This year when they started popping up, those same articles and links were screaming that this was the best ever super bloom because it rained so much this winter. I couldn't stand it. I looked at Mack and said, we're going.

I found a hotel that didn't cost a million dollars and wasn't totally booked up in Ramona, a little town about an hour away from Anza-Borrego State Park. We left in the late evening to avoid traffic and ended up at a divey joint called Cheers for a surprisingly awesome dinner. The locals were two-stepping and playing pool, but me in my hoodie and Mack with his scruff fit right in.

When we woke up we took a beautiful drive into the state park and to Borrego Springs, where the visitor center is located. It was so busy the road to the center was closed, so we started our first hike through the desert there.

The nice fella at the visitor center suggested we do the Borrego Springs hike right by the visitor center. He warned us that the 3 mile loop would end up being about 5 since it was half a mile to the trailhead and another mile to our car on the way back. We chugged the water we had, refilled it, and set off. I slathered some SPF 70 on my face. Mack was in his usual inappropriate footwear. It had all the makings for a near-death/life-changing experience.

We got to the campsite and found a sink, so we chugged and refilled again. At the trailhead we did the same thing. It was hot, sunny, and absolutely stunning.

The trail wound by a sheer cliff wall, over a dry river bed, by lots of rocks the size of campers, across a shallow river, through a forest of green shrubs, and ended at a cool oasis with a small waterfall and palm trees. We took our shoes off and waded in the pool, splashed water on our heads and faces, and even drank from the waterfall. It was invigorating.

And the flowers. Well, let's just talk about these flowers. Purple, pink, orange, yellow, white. Some of them were tiny as a baby's tooth and others were as big as a fist. They were popping up out of nooks and crannies and carpeting the gravelly desert floor. It was so incredibly beautiful I was just fine if I did drop dead from heat stroke.

The hike out was just as extraordinary as the hike in. We even got to see some wildlife, including a snake, big fat lizards, and big horn sheep! Thanks again, California.