Santa Cruz 2007

Well there is no impressive story to tell this year, just an awesome time had by all. For those of you that don’t know, I have gone on two trips the last two summers to Anacapa, the first of several Channel Islands. Santa Cruz is the second island in the chain, about 18 miles off the coast of Ventura.

It is the largest of the four islands in that area (approx. 26 miles long). However, you can only go on the east end of the island unless you have a pass because the west side (approx. 75%) is a nature preserve.

This year my mom, dad, sister, and her family went, as well as a group of guys from my church. We decided to go to this island because it was next and I like exploring new places. Plus a few of the guys last year complained about the conditions and all the hard work we had to do at Anacapa. So this year we wimped out and took the Island Packers boat over. It took the manly factor down a few notches, but it was worth it because if I was dying after doing the 12 mile trip to Anacapa, there is no way I could do 18 miles to Santa Cruz. I would go crazy being in a kayak for that long again. For those of you that didn’t go I’ll describe what it was like by contrasting Santa Cruz with Anacapa. Before I go on, if you want to catch the highlights, scroll down and you will see some pictures taken by me, my mom, and Todd (a guy from my church), because trying to describe how cool the sea caves are is impossible. Also, if you’ve never read about my first trip to Anacapa, you should. It’s the long story at the bottom of this page, but it’s interesting and it will help you understand when I contrast the two islands in the paragraphs to follow.

Big Difference #1: Less Birds. There are way less birds on Santa Cruz and, of course, no pungent bird poo smell (Some people call it AnaCRAPa). This also means less pesky birds trying to rip a hole in your tent and best of all, no waking up at 5am to a real life Alfred Hitchcock movie. Those of you that have been to Anacapa know what I mean.

Big Difference #2: Campground and bathroom facilities. On Anacapa you get a relatively flat piece of dirt in the middle of a wind tunnel. On Santa Cruz you get a relatively flat piece of dirt, some shade, and less wind. Some of the guys that went with us this year even slept outside and one of them woke up with an island fox on his chest. They are all over the campground at night looking for an easy meal. Luckily they are about the size of a house cat and a meal is just the scraps that have been discarded by the campers. Now for the bathrooms: Normally, I wouldn’t describe a bathroom due to the unpleasant nature of the subject, but for some of you, I know it means the difference between going and not going. The bathrooms, although they are pit toilets, are a little bit nicer than your average outhouse. They have tile floors, plenty of toilet paper, hand sanitizer, more space, and overall they are pretty clean. The smell, however, is still ever-present.

Big Difference #3: Hiking. On Anacapa (the east end that you camp on), I could run from one end of the island to the other in less than 10 minutes, and despite my appearance I am not a fast runner. On SantaCruz, I couldn’t walk the whole island in a day. Some of the guys we went with went on a 15 mile hike which took them past the highest point on our side of the island and they could see the ocean stretching out all around them. I heard it was pretty cool. I went on a couple of shorter hikes - Potato Harbor and Smugglers Cove. I highly recommend Potato Harbor if you like views from 100ft cliffs that lead straight into the crashing ocean. Smugglers Cove was also nice. It leads to a sandy beach with an olive grove growing on the hillside.

Big Difference #4: Kayaking. Anacapa has great kayaking, but it was way easier to launch your boat and get a big group going from the beach at Santa Cruz compared to the dock at Anacapa. Also, some of the most awesome sea caves are within a 3 mile round trip. Anacapa has more sea caves and less tour guided mobs, but if you launch early in the morning, you probably won’t have a problem with the mobs. We didn’t make it out to Painted Cave (one of the biggest sea caves in the world), but it’s on my list of things to do before I die. If you have a boat and you want to take me there before I die, please respond.

(Not So) Big Difference #5: Snorkeling. Anacapa has great snorkeling and so does Santa Cruz. I actually saw two bat rays this year while I was kayaking. One was nearly two-feet across.

Summary: It was a great trip that I hope I can continue doing throughout my life. Santa Cruz was much easier to visit than Anacapa. First of all, we took the boat instead of kayaking from the mainland. Second, the campground was more comfortable. Third, the activities were much more accessible. In general, it just took less effort to enjoy everything. I will always love Anacapa. I have many good memories from the two times I’ve been there, but I will probably stick to Santa Cruz and the other islands until one day when someone talks me into kayaking from the mainland again (Please don’t).

Family Photos
Most of these are from the Potato Harbor hike and our kayaking excursion, but there are a few other random shots mixed in. I think all of them enjoyed it, but Maddie loved it the most. You can see her flexing in one picture. According to her she has one girl arm and one man arm (muscular). See if you can tell which one is which.

And for all of you out there that think "Wow, that's cool but I could never do that." Just look at my mom and my sister (No offense Mom and Trish). They were very unsure of themselves, but as you can see the water in every picture is very calm. My mom liked it so much that she even went with Blake into some more sea caves.












Flipside Guy Photos
Here is a random sample of the guys who went. I didn't get pictures of everyone and being guys we didn't set up a group photo, so what you see is what you get. One side note about Jeff our Pastor in the blue kayak. He likes to make everything sound as terrifying as possible so don't let him scare you with his talk about giant swells smashing you into the ceiling of the sea cave. If an eight year old girl (Maddie) can do it, so can you.

Scenic Photos









You'll notice that in the pictures of the island itself, the island looks pretty dry. This is because we always go in August when the ocean is calm. However, if you go in the spring, supposedly it is very green and beautiful with wildflowers and stuff. If you want to see pictures of the island in that stage, go to the Island Packers website: islandpackers.com


Sea Caves
This is what it's all about. The first two are of a rock formation called Scorpion Rock and the cave is called the Greenroom because on a sunny day the light from underwater holes turns it into an emerald green color. There is another cave we went in that was about 250ft deep, but none of the pictures turned out so well. I got to use my 1 million candle power spotlight in there. It was the highlight of the trip for me. At the back of the cave there is a small passage that leads into a large pool called Neptune's Caldron (I think). At first it didn't look safe to enter but then Rene went through without dying so I tried it. It was cool.

Anacapa 2006: The Return

Not long after returning from our momentous trip to the island the first time, did our friends reveal their jealousy and begin talking about plans for a trip the next year. In my mind it would be simple because we knew what to expect and could avoid all the mishaps of the first adventure. I knew about the currents, how to get up the dock, how much equipment and water to take, but the one thing that I failed to remember was all the pain. Our inaugural voyage involved a lot of pain and struggle, something the pleasant memories must have erased from my brain; however during the course of the second trip, it was déjà vu all over again.

As our launch date approached for the second trip, there were about sixteen guys who planned on going this time, but only thirteen of us actually went. Still, a much safer number than the three of us who went on the trip the previous year. This time eight of us paddled, two went on a power boat, and three guys sailed over on a 13ft sailboat. There was Greg the leader, who took care of all the planning and coordinated with me somewhat; however his attention to detail is along the lines of an eagle scout while mine is somewhere below that of a cub scout . For example, I gave everyone a half sheet of paper that basically told them what I thought they needed and to expect a lot of pain. Greg on the other hand, bought books, emailed weather reports, printed out stories of kayakers, and made multiple page lists of items to bring that included such things as bailing wire. He even recruited his friend to drive a powerboat as a “safety net” in case something should go wrong. To say he was prepared would be an understatement. Greg’s son “J” (short for Jameson) also went. He is a funny high school kid who knew better than to kayak over; he went in the power boat. Eric was the driver of the power boat and a friend of Greg. He had one of the least rewarding jobs of the whole trip, looking after us, but he didn’t complain. Doug is Larry, my father-in-law’s friend who wanted to go on the first trip and was jealous when we came back alive. He was very excited to go this year and brought along his son-in-law Jacob and his friend Danny. They are in their early twenties and were very impressive. They took the kayak we used on the first trip, the one I said was “ill-advised”, and had that thing going at top speed for miles (but they eventually regretted it). Next, are Chris and his friend Greg. They are both in their late thirties and were also very strong paddlers even though they didn’t have that much experience. Last but not least there was Jeff and me. Jeff is one of the pastors at my church who is a very tough man. He runs marathons, plays football with blood streaming down his head, and he even used to ride bulls, but he had never really kayaked before so I think he was a little nervous going into this. Before we left he told me of his fear of a white squall separating us and him not knowing what to do. I assured him that if a white squall separated us I’d see him in heaven. I’m not sure if that helped, but he went anyway.

The other three guys who sailed over were Larry (my father-in-law), and his friends Ken and Bob. For their story you will have to ask them about it, because we didn’t launch at the same time, but from what I understand there are two versions. If you ask Larry, you’ll hear about how easy the trip was despite the struggle of tacking the last few miles against the wind while frantically bailing water out of the boat from all the spray. But this is a guy who wouldn’t panic if he was in a single prop plane and the engine light came on. For the other side of their story you can ask Ken and you’ll hear about the frustration and perils they faced during their “almost” near death experience. But Ken is the type of guy that enjoys camping in a RV with full hookups. Therefore, the truth is probably somewhere in between Larry and Ken, perhaps Bob holds the key. All I know is when I first spotted a tiny white dot through my binoculars, I said, “That has to be them. Who else would be out here in a 13ft. sailboat?” Then I watched as they struggled to find the right angle against the wind, and I began to worry for their safety, but once they got on shore, they all seemed fine, soaked but fine. After their ordeal, they tied their boat to the dock, which isn’t really allowed, but they had nowhere else to put it. They stayed the night at the campground, but when the tide went out that night, the rope snapped. When they went down to check on it in the morning, it had drifted onto a bed of kelp, but miraculously, it was still safely within the cove (thanks God, we owe you one). The problem was a pulley or something on the top of the mast snapped disabling it for the trip back. Larry was ready to MacGyver it and make it work, but truth be told I think this was an answer to Ken’s prayers the night before, because they were able to talk Larry into towing it back with Eric’s power boat later that day. Larry was a bit disappointed, but he had fun.

As for the rest of us, our story had its own challenges and highlights. Several of the guys who went, heard about last year’s trip and wanted to see Anacapa for themselves. Like me, they thought the challenge of kayaking 12 miles across the ocean would be a cool adventure. I was happy to take them and wanted them to have the full experience, so, initially, when I heard we were going to have a “safety net” (the power boat) I was a little disappointed. In my mind, part of the reason for doing a trip like this is to take a risk. Although, technically, the riskiest part of the trip is on the freeway from Rancho to Oxnard (statistically speaking). Besides that, I knew if the option was there guys would be tempted to take it and possibly lose the sense of satisfaction that comes from accomplishing such a feat. What I didn’t realize is that not everyone is the same glutton for punishment that I am. After all, a little pain never hurt anyone, right?

By the time we left, I had made my peace with the “safety net” and was looking forward seeing the island once again. My first trip involved a lot of pain with very little reward because we did not get to do much kayaking or snorkeling on our one full day there due to the choppy water, but I saw the potential and had to go back. This time I was determined to see more of the island. When we got to the launch site a little after 9am I was a bit nervous because I had told the guys that we wouldn’t need any of that fancy GPS junk because we would be able to see the island from shore. I was wrong. Anacapa was hidden behind a dense layer of clouds, but I didn’t say anything because I was confident that as we got out there the island would break through the wall of clouds and give us an easy target. By about 10am we had packed up our kayaks and launched. As we paddled along the island still was not visible. I had told the guys to head for the oil derrick and was hoping we’d be able to see the island once we got there. It had been a year, so I was beginning to doubt whether or not I actually remembered the direction of the island. Using my compass to verify our course we proceeded on and eventually got to where we could see a faint shadow in the distance. At this point I was relieved because it meant we were headed in the right direction. Once we got about half way to the island, we got our first awesome experience; in the distance a large whale waved its tail two or three times before it disappeared. I wanted to paddle over to it, but it was just too far to even try. Our second awesome experience was even better. At the time it happened we were spread out, some of the stronger paddlers were in the front and I was in the very back (not because I was weaker of course, I had to tie my shoe) when I saw a large pod of dolphins on course to pass right by us. I paddled as hard as I could to try to get close to their path and I yelled out to the guys, but no one heard me. I was worried that they might miss it but then they stopped and turned around. I kept paddling until I was about 100ft short of the dolphins and I tried to take a picture, but it was hard. The dumb mammals never tell you when and where they’re going to pop up, and like big foot and the loch ness monster, the pictures never turn out well, “You see those gray smudges and white splashes, those are dolphins.” While I sat there in amazement, just trying to enjoy the moment while it lasted, I looked up to see Jeff, my pastor, was right in their path. I was very jealous as I watched them race and jump all around him. “Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s dolphin experience.”

As we got closer to the island it was obvious that the novelty of kayaking to the island had worn off (Jeff’s words). The guys were getting tired and none of them seemed to remember my first story in which I detail why the Chumash called the island “Anyapakh” or “Ennepah” (Anacapa), which means mirage or island of deception. In my opinion, it’s because it never gets any closer. When you think your close, you’re not close. When you think you know you’re close, you’re not as close as you think, and when you know you’re close, you better think again. You get the idea? They weren’t prepared for the frustration that sets in after a while. One thing that saved us some time was adjusting for the currents. I knew we would get swept southeast of the island, so instead of aiming for East Anacapa, we aimed for Middle Anacapa. The problem was when we got to the zone where we thought we knew we were close, I changed our direction and we still got swept southeast by the current. Fortunately it wasn’t as bad as last time and we all made it ok.

At this point I am going to skip to some other highlights of the trip, but just so you know, getting there is only half the fun. Some of the other challenges include the 12ft. raised dock upon which you have to lift your kayak and all your gear, the 154 stairs, and the ½ mile hike to the campground. Reading about these things will not really help you appreciate it. You have to do it for yourself. If you do, it is doubtful you ever feel manlier in your life because this island presents one challenge after another.

Moving on to the highlights, I have to say that I can’t speak for everyone. With thirteen people we all did different things. Greg, Eric, and Jameson snorkeled, something I have yet to do for any real length of time at Anacapa, but they saw all sorts of fish in the kelp beds and touched some large rays that were buried in the sand. The rest of us who went out on Saturday included me, Jeff, Danny, Jacob, Doug and Chris. Our main goal was to go see some sea caves and possibly make it to the big one on the west end of the island. The problem was that many of the guys were not looking forward to another long paddle, because we weren’t fully recovered from the day before, and we still had to paddle back on Sunday. So when we set out and didn’t find some easily accessible sea caves nearby, Doug, Chris, and Jacob decided to head back. I wish they would have stayed with us because Jeff, Danny, and I had an awesome experience, but I think they had fun too. They got to see some sea caves and go through arch rock. They even got approached by some aggressive sea lions that were guarding their pups in a cave.

As Jeff, Danny, and I went along, we eventually got close to Middle Anacapa and the ocean became like glass once again. In my mind, it was now or never for sea cave exploration. We were able to go along the cliffs and explore every nook and cranny of the island. Our first one was a sea cave or arch that opened up to a beach behind it. It was incredible. At first Jeff and Danny seemed a little hesitant, but eventually they were comfortable enough to go anywhere, even some places that I didn’t want to go, one of those being the narrow channel between Middle and West Anacapa. I watched Jeff go through this 20 ft gap between the islands and told Danny, “That’s not a very smart thing to do, the water gets really rough.” I knew because Dan and I had done the same thing at the crossing between East and Middle Anacapa the year before, but Danny didn’t seem to mind and he followed right after Jeff. I watched again as he got pushed up against the rocks and water poured into his kayak. Seeing this solidified the thoughts in my mind that this wasn’t a very smart thing to do, so I beached my kayak on the opposite side of the island and waved at them through the rocks. Jeff waved at me and yelled, “Go through!” Against my better judgment, I got in my kayak and paddled for the crossing. As I hit the first wave, my sit-on-top filled with water faster than it could empty itself and I was stuck in a suction zone. It was like walking on a really tough treadmill, you work really hard and go nowhere, but eventually I was able to gain some ground and paddle through without hitting too many rocks. When I made it, I pulled up next to Jeff and said, “Thanks for making me do the dumbest thing I’ve ever done in my kayak,” which may or may not be true, but it was funny to me. Now we had to go back through the crossing with the waves coming from behind us. I gave the guys some tips about trying to avoid turning sideways because if you get turned sideways on a wave it’s pretty much over. Jeff was the first to go. As he neared the gap, the waves were very calm and he passed through with no problem. It was like God parting the Red Sea for the Israelites to cross. Then it was Danny’s turn with me following close behind. Suddenly the waves kicked up again and, like the Egyptians, we were fighting for our lives (well, fighting to avoid serious injury). Danny got turned sideways and water dumped into his kayak like a waterfall. I thought he was going over for sure. I saw he was in trouble but it was too late for me to pull out. A wave was hurling me passed Danny and it was all I could do to keep from going over. Danny eventually hit the rocks, twisted around, and started paddling backwards while I ended up on top of a bed of rocks off to the side. Meanwhile Jeff was watching, and as soon as it was over, he couldn’t stop laughing. Danny’s kayak was so full of water it became a lowrider, sitting just a few inches above the water line, so we had to pull up to the beach and dump out all the water. Jeff was still laughing the whole time (so much for the compassionate pastor). It was definitely the highlight of the trip for the three of us. It was also the best wave I have ridden to date, aside from the whole landing on rocks part.

In addition to our roaring rapids experience we also got to see so many more amazing sights that I didn’t get to see on my first trip. As we went along the shoreline between the island and various rock formations, we made our way through a number of sea caves and arches. We even saw two leopard sharks that were about 3-4ft long. They went right under my kayak, but they eluded me before I could take a picture. The mouth of one cave we went in was about fifty feet high and opened up into a huge oval shaped cathedral. Another cave we went in was about 300ft long, according to my book, but we only went about 80ft back before it became pitch black. My headlamp didn’t even put a dent in the darkness, so Jeff pulled out his flashlight and it barely lit some of the walls. The only thing we could tell is that it split in two directions like a “Y”. We both have plans to go back and bring a bigger flashlight next time. All of the things we saw were too amazing for me to explain or for pictures from a cheap disposable camera to capture. You have to see it for yourself.

The next day six of us made the paddle back. Although, none of us were looking forward to it; we all just wanted to get home. In spite of our lack of enthusiasm for the paddle home, there were some cool experiences along the way. Several dolphins made their way passing right between us and a huge cargo ship crossed right in front of us. It was great, but we just wanted to get home. At one point, Eric passed by us on the power boat and asked if we were ok, we all said yes and he went on his way back to wait for us at the landing site. About a half hour later it became grueling as the ocean grew choppier and a number of us wished that Eric would come back and take us to shore. Yes, even I, Mr. “We don’t need a power boat” was thinking the same thing. It became so bad for Danny and Jacob in the short, fat double kayak that Greg actually towed them for a couple of miles until we got closer to shore. This should not reflect badly on them, because it’s not an easy kayak to paddle for twelve miles. In fact, I assured them that they were two of only three people in the entire world who had ever paddled to Anacapa and back in a 12ft. long 36in. wide kayak (Larry, being the other from last year). I share this because it shows how incredible Greg was. He was a paddling machine the whole trip. Of all of us, I think he was the one who felt the least affects from the trip. When we eventually made it to shore we were surprised to find that we had shaved a whole 15 minutes off our time (4:45) because it felt like an eternity out there on the water. Our muscles ached, our backs hurt, and our butts were tired of sitting. On the shore, most of the guys said they were glad they went, but they would never do it again, at least not the paddling from Oxnard to Anacapa part. I know I will go back to Anacapa again. It has so much to offer that I haven’t fully experienced like snorkeling and finding out how deep that cave goes, but next time I plan on taking the charter boat. I even told Jane to remind me that I said I would never paddle over there again, but even now as I type this and remember all of the cool experiences, I could possibly see myself being talked into it at some point in the future. Next year however, the island we are planning to visit is Santa Cruz. We’ll take the charter boat, I promise, so who’s coming with me?

Anacapa 2005: Island of Deception

Anacapa is a small island that was first inhabited by the Chumash, a native American tribe that once thrived along the California coast. Its name literally means “Island of Deception” and this story is about how I discovered why they gave the island this name.

We had been planning the trip for months. Several people had expressed interest, but only three of us made it: Me, my brother-in-law, Dan, and my father-in-law Larry. We knew it was a bit risky, seeing as how the three of us had a total equaling less than 20 miles kayaking experience combined, but that was about to change. We left our homes in Rancho Cucamonga around 10am and headed to Oxnard. Now at this time it should be noted, we wanted to leave around 8am, but Larry had to fly in from a business meeting in Colorado that morning and he did not get into LA until 7:00 or so. By the time we got to Oxnard, rented a kayak and put some food in our stomachs, it was 12:30, but we still had to unload all our gear on the beach and latch it on to one of our two kayaks.

I had done some research as to the type of gear you need on a trip of this caliber and the type of dangers you might encounter during an open ocean voyage in a kayak. What I found was that my kayak, a 12 foot, plastic, sit on top by Crescent Splash and the kayak we rented, a 14 foot, plastic, sit on top by Ocean Kayak were not exactly “recommended” for a trip like this. In fact, you might go so far as to say the experts might call us “idiots”, “fools”, or any other number of names indicating a lack of intelligence, but we were undaunted. If the Chumash could make it across in their wooden boats then surely, with today’s technology, we too could conquer the ocean. Aside from our underrated watercraft, we also had something else going against us. Without experience, we had no idea how many supplies to bring (food, water, clothes, etc.) and so we brought everything, and I mean everything.

During the unloading process, an obvious veteran in a classic wooden kayak and wetsuit, who was no doubt practicing eskimo rolls and hunting whales moments before, beached his kayak near us and asked, “You leaving to the island now?” A little intimidated, like Danielsan addressing Mr. Miyagi, I said “Yeah, we’re survivors,” but I had no idea how true that would be. He gave us one word of caution, “It’s pretty flat out there, but it might get windy near the island.” With that he left us to our fate, probably expecting to hear our story in the paper: “Three Idiots Die Trying to go to Anacapa in a Yellow, Plastic Kayak. What Were They Thinking?”

As we finished latching all our gear onto the kayaks, we looked off toward our destination. We could see Anacapa even through the overcast layer of clouds and I was surprised at how close it “looked”. I expected an island 12 miles away to look a lot smaller, but I was encouraged by what looked to be a distant yet obtainable goal. I got into the single Ocean Kayak, while Dan and Larry squeezed into the overloaded Crescent Splash II. Our adventure had begun.

The sea was surprisingly calm. It made Lake Tahoe, a trip we had just made a month earlier, look like a raging beast and early on, paddling was easy as the current swept us along. That is, except for my kayak, which pulled to the right. It was the type of thing that seems mildly annoying at first, but ends up making you wild with rage after several miles, or maybe that’s just me.

Our first goal was to reach what we referred to as an oil derrick and initially, we seemed to be making good progress toward our objective, but somehow as the time went by, it became as stationary as a mountain. No matter how much we paddled, it didn’t get any closer. This should have been our first hint that this island was further than it appeared. When we finally reached the platform about 2 ½ hours had passed and we judged that we were about half way there. In reality, this was a pretty close estimate, the only problem was, our kayaking muscles were already starting to show signs of weakness. Larry a fifty-something year old businessman who is more known for reading than athleticism, Dan, a thirty-something supervisor at a school for kids with special needs who is an avid hiker, but previously only a one-time kayaker, and me, a twenty-eight year old English teacher who dreams of being more active if only I had the time; the three of us were starting to fade. This became even more evident when Dan and I decided to switch kayaks in the middle of the ocean. He hopped out to relieve himself while I made the transfer from one kayak to another. The instant my arms began to support my body weight, it felt like every square centimeter of every muscle cramped immediately. Fortunately, I fell into the double kayak without tipping us over. Next it was Dan’s turn; he made several efforts to throw his body into the new kayak while we steadied it with our paddles. It was all I could do to not let that kayak tip over and soak all of our gear, but we did it and once again we were on our way.

Before I go on I must explain that the second question people ask when you tell them you are going across the ocean in a kayak (the first one being “Are you crazy?”) is “What about sharks?” This thought had crossed my mind and during my research I found that white sharks were doubtful, but mako sharks were possible. In fact, just one month prior to our trip, they had had a mako hunting competition. I believe the winning shark was somewhere around 10ft, 500 lbs. Nothing a little gouge in the eye or sharp knife to the gills wouldn’t take care of (these were my pre-planned defenses, right after bleeding all over him and hoping one bite of my bony body would repulse any shark looking for a fat meal). This leads me to our next eventful moment, the sighting.

As we were cruising along, my eyes were constantly scanning the horizon for the infamous dorsal fin. Then all of a sudden there it was. A white tipped dorsal fin cruising in from the side and about fifty feet behind us. It was hard to tell how big the fish was, but I knew it was a shark, by the way it stealthily cruised through the water. I immediately pointed it out to Larry and he turned only to see it vanish beneath the surface.
“What should we do?” I asked as the adrenaline started to kick in.
“Just keep going. Is Dan the type that would panic?”
“No, I don’t think so. Hey Dan, come here!” I yelled. The plan was to travel as close together as possible so that we would seem like a bigger target; hopefully, too big for the shark to want to deal with. I don’t know how long it was, but seeing that white tipped dorsal fin was enough incentive to keep me paddling for a long time even though it never appeared again.

By now the island was considerably closer and one thing that this revealed to us was that from shore we were looking at West Anacapa, but we wanted to go to East Anacapa. As the curtain of clouds was pulled back we could see that the island was much longer than we had anticipated. However, this did not seem like a big deal, we made a slight adjustment with our trusty compass and started on a new course. It was about six o’clock and the sun wasn’t due to go down for another two hours. Although we were late, we felt optimistic about our chances of getting there by eight, a mere two hours behind schedule.

7 o’clock, we were not far from the island when we started to see splashing about a ½ mile in front of us. At first I was hoping it would be a pod of whales, but as we approached the sight where we saw the splashing it became apparent that they were too small to be whales. Instead, it was a pod of dolphins. I wasn’t sure what to do, but I am the type of person who would regret it forever if I did not try to get as close as possible, so we built up some speed and coasted right toward the main action. I had my disposable waterproof camera ready to go. It was amazing. What we had seen in the distance was the dolphins performing some of their trademark aerial stunts, but now they were circling together and we were right in the middle of it. I snapped away with my camera, as blowhole after blowhole calmly came up for a breath of air. There were probably at least 10 dolphins in our immediate vicinity. I could have reached out and touched one if I wanted to, but the disappointment I had felt when I found that these were dolphins instead of whales was quickly replaced by relief, because when you’re right next to a creature like this in its own environment, it’s a little more humbling than you might imagine. Besides, these dolphins were easily close to the size of our kayak, and believe me, that is one ratio I would prefer to have more in my favor. I’m not sure how Dan and Larry felt, but this was exactly what I was looking for. In my mind, even after going through what was to come, this single experience made the entire trip worth it for me.

8 o’clock, the sun was going down, but we were relatively close to the island. We still had nothing to worry about, or so we thought. By now, several friendly sea lions had made our acquaintance as they jumped up and down at the bow and in the wake of our kayaks. I use the term “wake” loosely here, because by this time our arms were literally rubber. Once in a while, I would go mad with frustration at our lack of progress and paddle furiously despite the pain, but this only led to more frustration as the island would undoubtedly move backward with every stroke we took. It was inconceivable that something that appeared so close could seem so stationary. Never moving, you only noticed progress in sparse moments of time when suddenly you realize some detail you couldn’t see earlier, like “Hey, I didn’t know that was a huge boulder. An hour ago it just looked like part of the cliff.”

9 o’clock, Why are we still in our kayaks!!!!? What we had failed to notice in our weakened state was that the current near the island was pushing us southeast of the island. It was like being on a treadmill that rotated. The only reason we caught on was because what had once been a long picturesque view of the island turned into a short black dot that wasn’t getting any closer. It was like looking at a long bus from the side view and then suddenly realizing that you are looking at the bus straight on. A very disheartening feeling came over us as we trudged on. It was now dark. The steep cliffs which were once becoming more and more visible were now a dark black. The lighthouse on the east end of the island was our only constant, but the one thing that was in our favor was that the sea remained calm. Throughout our whole trip, we didn’t encounter any huge waves or any prevailing winds. It was as smooth as glass the whole way; the only thing we had to struggle against was the currents, which turned our 12 mile trip into probably a 14 or 15 mile trip, but overall we were more than blessed by God in regards to the weather. However, it was so dark I couldn’t see Dan at all. I just yelled periodically to make sure he wasn’t being swept out to sea.
We made our way back toward the island after being pushed southeast and found that it was surrounded by jagged rocks and thick kelp beds, not a beach in sight. Our slow progress was made even slower by the thick kelp beds, but we were happy just to be next to the island of deception. Our next challenge was to find the dock, but at this time we would’ve settled for any place to get out of our kayaks and stand. We had been in the kayaks over seven hours now and at one point Larry was so desperate to get out that he tried to scramble onto a small rock formation covered with barnacles, but as the sea surged up and down we realized our only hope was to find the dock. I knew it was a raised dock, about 12ft above the water, but the black walls of the island made everything blend together. Visibility was extremely low and I kept repeating to Larry, “This is not a good situation”. We were exhausted, beaten, and inexperienced. With each moment that passed by, it seemed our chances of finding anywhere to stop for the night were drifting away. We paddled as close as we could near the area of where we thought the dock should be, but we didn’t want to get too close for fear that the waves might push us into the jagged rocks. At one point we saw a huge crane on a manmade platform and Dan asked “Is that it?” I wasn’t sure, but I said no, based on the description I remembered from the book, so we went about a mile along the coast of Anacapa before stopping to get out the map and headlamp. Once we could see the map, we found that the dock was about a mile back, right where we started. I apologized for my mistake in navigation and we headed back toward the lighthouse, which was above the dock. The one positive thing about being out on the ocean so late was that we were able to see the water light up with glowing particles every time we put our paddles in the water. I’m not sure what it was but it added to our unique experience.

When we finally got back to the dock it was 10 o’clock. You may think the story ends here, but before I go on I must remind you of our state of being. Imagine a time when you were extremely tired and multiply it by 10. Imagine a time when you were extremely sore and multiply it by 11. Imagine a time when you were very hungry, desperate, and frustrated and multiply it by 100. I knew the dock would be 12 feet above sea level, but I didn’t exactly think through how difficult it would be to lift several hundred pounds of gear and kayak that high. We pulled up to the ladder and I was the first to get off, mind you I haven’t used my legs in eight hours. Needless to say my ascent up the cold, wet, steel ladder was a bit shaky, while Dan and Larry clung to the ladders down below as surge after surge tried to pull them away. When I finally reached the top, I was supposed to lower a hoist and simply pull our gear to the top with this well-crafted machine, but my legs weren’t cooperating, neither was my mind. I literally staggered around like a drunken sailor on leave for the first time in 3 months or a newborn fawn using its legs for the first time (choose your simile). Meanwhile Dan and Larry became increasingly less tolerant with my lack of progress. Considering our slowly developing madness, if I was in their position I probably would have had murderous visions running through my mind regarding the person who had ascended the ladder. Fortunately, they are much kinder than I am, or at least they didn’t share their true feelings aside from a few verbal jabs directed at my sloth like pace while they dangled like limp noodles at the mercy of the waves. Finally I admitted defeat and said, “I can’t figure this out.”
“I just want to stand,” said Dan.
Larry agreed, so Dan tied his boat off, and I began to make trips back and forth on the cold, wet ladder, unloading our gear one piece at a time. Eventually Larry and Dan made their way to the top and were able to understand my struggle with walking. Neither of them could figure out the hoist either, so we continued to unload our gear, one piece at a time. This is where I will reference something I said in the beginning, which was, we didn’t know what to bring, so we brought everything, including twice as much water as necessary. This may seem like a reasonable problem, but at ten o’clock at night, after you’ve been paddling for 8 hours, when you’ve given everything you’ve got and more, hauling extra water (one of our heaviest items) up and down stairs just isn’t as enjoyable as it may sound; however, we did it. Next, it was time for the kayaks themselves, each weighing roughly 70 pounds. Since we couldn’t figure out the hoist, we simply tied a line to the kayaks and pulled them up by one end. Keep in mind that our kayaks are 12 and 14ft long and we have to get them over a 3ft guard rail in addition to the raised dock. The challenge was to get the nose high enough that we could use our weight to lift the other end in the air and slide it onto the dock. Once again, this is harder than it may seem. The three of us combined at this moment had the strength of one man, if we were lucky, but we sucked it up and used every bit of muscle we had left (mostly Dan). There was a moment when we had one of the kayaks at the critical point, where it was about to tip in our favor, but it started to slide back to the water below. Dan jumped on it with all his weight and God must have given it a little nudge with his finger, because if it had fallen back down, I don’t know if psychologically we would’ve had the resolve to believe we could do it. When we finally got the kayaks to the top we took a much needed rest and prepared to finish our journey.

From here I could tell you about having to hike up 154 steep stairs with our gear, hiking ½ mile in the dark to a campsite that didn’t exist, the pungent smell of bird poo (one visitor affectionately called the island “AnaCRAPa”), setting up camp on a 150ft cliff at midnight, becoming local heroes as well as idiots, our pot-smoking neighbors, amazing snorkeling, exploring sea caves, our five hour trip back, and the huge cargo ship that passed within a couple hundred yards, but this is where I’ll end, until next August, are you in?