Weekend Escape: Catalina : Off-Season Greetings : A Couple Discovers That This Time of Year the Island Is a Happy and Romantically Empty Place

Anniversary No. 7--the year of the itch--was approaching and my husband and I sat around dreaming up a romantic weekend. This was a cinch. Fly to San Francisco, rent a red convertble and drive down the coast to Monterey for three romantic nights by the fire in a seaside bed and breakfast.

But the sound of a Fisher-Price toy lawnmower whirring across the hardwood floors promptly burst the bubble.

Suddenly, we were torn as never before between visions of down comforters and warm croissants and guilt over deserting a 21-month-old little boy named Jackson. (OK, it wasn’t just overwhelming love for him that was keeping us close by. We were too broke to fly.)

We considered driving somewhere. But let’s face it, after years of commuting to work, a root canal sounded more appealing. My husband Gregg surrendered, depressed. There would be no getaway. I decided to surprise him.

We could sail to Santa Catalina Island in less than an hour, spend the night and be back the next day. Still, I was haunted. Vacationing on an island in November is a little like wearing white shoes after Labor Day. This could be wonderfully remote or depressingly deserted.

Desperate, I called the chamber of commerce and was given the names of six bed and breakfast inns. “Can’t you recommend one?” I implored. “No,” came a cold voice over the phone. “All we give out is numbers.”

I began calling, starting with the one I was pretty sure was the fanciest. It was booked solid. A good sign. Somebody must be staying on that island. The innkeeper gave me a rundown on the rest of the lodgings. I narrowed the list to the Old Turner Inn in Avalon and dialed.

Sure, innkeeper Joyce said, the King’s Suite is open Monday night, down comforter, fireplace, sitting room with wicker chair, freshly baked somethingorothers in the morning. “One hundred and seventy-five dollars a night,” she said. “But this is off-season, so you can have it for $135. And we’ll waive the two-night minimum.”

This was sounding better already. I asked about the weather. “You’ll need a sweater at night.”

Perfect. Little did I know it, but we had stumbled upon something the islanders call “the undiscovered season.” After Labor Day, the residential population of Catalina drains from 10,000 to 3,000 and tourism dips to a comfortable level of visitors who leave the island nicely populated but far from desolate. Cruise ships still dock there Tuesdays and Saturdays, depositing 1,000 people onto the streets--a fraction of the summer crowd. And the weather is gorgeous through Jan. 1.

What it all translates to is this: With a little flexibility, you can enjoy all that’s good about Catalina--warm sun, fresh seafood, quaint shops--without the crowded beaches, hard-to-get reservations and long lines of camera-snapping tourists.

Catalina Express runs ferries daily from Long Beach to the island. The fare is the same regardless of the season--$35 round trip--and fewer boats run midweek, but the reservation books are wide open. I booked an afternoon passage (then changed my mind twice with no trouble), arranged to leave Jackson with his grandparents, and six days later, we were off on a semi-spontaneous voyage that in the summer would have required months of planning.

Did I forget to mention I get seasick?

On Monday morning, Nov. 1, we packed--jeans, sweaters and some shorts--and left to catch the 1:30 boat. (I would advise anyone else to take the morning ferry since we ended up loving the place more than we had expected and wished for more time to just vegetate.)

Parking near the Queen Mary is convenient and plentiful this time of year. But the sight of the sleek white ferry was already making me queasy. Gregg dropped a packet of seasick pills in my lap--they sell them at the dock--and we boarded, taking a cushy window booth reserved in more crowded times for groups of four. The sky was blue and cloudless; the temperature a perfect 70. In an hour flat, and without a moment’s discomfort, we were stepping onto the island.

The sun washed over my face. I could have flopped on the sand right there and taken a nap. The fact is, I could have flopped on the sand. There was nobody else on it. The water was electric blue, and small waves were slapping the shore.

The Old Turner Inn was a manageable walk from the dock and a block from all the noise of the shopping area. It is a wonderful Cape Cod-style house with lace curtains, cedar walls, a huge stone fireplace, antiques and tapestry rugs. A note from the innkeeper greeted us: Room at the top of the stairs. Key on the bed. Appetizers at 5.

The room was lovely. French doors opened into a sun room with a day bed. I dissolved into the wicker chair with a book. Gregg lit the fire, then walked downstairs to check out the place and found menus of Avalon’s most popular restaurants. Armstrong’s Fish Market looked promising.

At 4 p.m. we hit the streets. There was a nice chill in the air and a Nativity scene in one of the store windows. Winter at the beach. I stopped into Catalina Confetti, a store that usually carries beach mats and sun hats, and came away with two Christmas ornaments. Betty Franks, the proprietor who sold them to me, said the sea that morning had been warm enough for a swim. A young mother had spent the afternoon sunbathing with her little boy. “Everything is open, nothing is crowded, it’s quiet and you don’t have to bring your own rock to stand on,” one merchant said.

There are certain drawbacks. Shuttles to various parts of the island are available by reservation only. There are no flying fish or seals, and some of the restaurants close on certain weekdays. Although merchants structure their hours to make certain that a variety of shops and restaurants are always open, something is always closed this time of year, so it is wise to call ahead.

But the deficits were dwarfed by the many times it seemed we had the island to ourselves. At 6 we walked into Armstrong’s and were escorted directly to a bayside table, made comfortable by patio heaters, a spot summer tourists wait three hours to get. We started with fresh mussels--excellent--and a bottle of wine. Tiny white lights shone from the boats that rocked at the dock. The island’s gorgeous round Casino was bathed in white light. Lobster and crab were on the way. We sat reminiscing about our wedding day. The night seemed perfect, until the waitress pointed out that Mother Nature hadn’t finished yet.

“Here comes the moon,” she announced, as a magnificent ball rose on the horizon, so quickly you could see it move. The mere sight of it gave everyone in the vicinity pause. I began searching for an explanation. Is this a winter phenomenon? Something seen only from the middle of the sea? No, the waitress answered, this is moonrise on Catalina. I stopped trying to analyze and memorized instead.

By the time we finished dinner, the streets were deserted. Nightlife curtails significantly this time of year, but if you’re in the mood to spend an evening by a warm fire, this is the place.

We had breakfast at the inn the next morning--croissants, fresh fruit, homemade granola and freshly baked bread pudding. We decided to rent one of Catalina’s ubiquitous golf carts and see the island. (The annoying buzz of these can be heard from the Old Turner Inn, but rentals, thankfully, stop after dark.) We spent three hours tooling up isolated roads that afforded panoramic views of a striking blue-green sea. The bougainvillea was in bloom everywhere. We virtually owned the roads.

We stopped at the posh Inn on Mt. Ada, which operates out of the gorgeous, hillside Wrigley mansion, then drove on to the island’s magnificent circular Casino, built in 1929. Never intended for gambling, it became a big-band hot spot in the ‘40s. We toured its fabulous ballroom, with the world’s largest circular dance floor. (We’ve decided to spend New Year’s Eve there with two good friends.) The Casino’s beautiful Art Deco theater--its acoustical properties a model for Radio City Music Hall--still shows first-run films twice nightly. Patrons melt into plush velvet seats under a twinkling ceiling made of 60,000 squares of sterling silver leaf.

We turned in the golf cart and checked our bags in a dockside locker. In the mood for Mexican food, we were referred by a local to the Catalina Cantina (nice view, mediocre food, terrible service). It was now nearly 2, and, feeling at loose ends, we decided to catch the 3 p.m. ferry home.

With seasick pills already in hand, I braved a ride on the bow. The sea was calm and the sky clear. “It doesn’t get much better than this,” the captain announced as the island disappeared behind us. We were inclined to agree.

Budget for Two

Two Catalina Express

boat tickets: $ 71.00

Old Turner Inn, one night: 144.45

Parking: 10.00

Dinner at Armstrong Fish Market: 113.54

Lunch at Catalina Cantina: 28.84

Golf cart rental: 60.00

Seasick pills: 6.00

FINAL TAB: $433.83

The Old Turner Inn, tel. (310) 510-2236. Catalina Island Chamber of Commerce, tel. (310) 510-1520.