Island Crossings

Just when I realized there were about 200 dolphins all around us, the captain hit the play button on the CD player and strains of Mozart floated by.

The dolphins leaped and splashed in time to “Eine Kleine Nachtmusik” as we all sped across a dark-blue ocean. It was a moment that seemed to call for superlatives, but I was turning into a stereotypical taciturn seafarer: After too many amazing sights a person just runs out of words.

Already in a two-day trip with Island Packers to San Miguel and Santa Rosa islands, the two most remote of the five islands in Channel Islands National Park, I had seen the spouts of seven blue whales. Four of them had surfaced near the boat, mammals the size of a two-trailer semitruck arching out of the water. I had parted curtains of wild ice plant to peer inside hidden sea caves and hiked past vegetation that in all the world grew on only one island.

Our trip began at Ventura Harbor on a recent Friday night when my boyfriend, Rich, and I boarded a 65-foot trawler called the Sundowner. Even though I had expected tight quarters, I was still taken aback by how close together the bunks were: 25 passengers slept stacked against the wall in closely lined berths, two people on top, two below. Curtains offered a flimsy bit of privacy.

By the time we had walked back from dining at the nearby Spinnaker Seafood restaurant (dark wood, salty regulars at the bar), the man in the bunk above us was already snoring. (He was out of bed before us the next morning, so our bunk mate’s identity remained a mystery.)

We slept soundly, though, until the ship’s engines kicked in just before sunrise. When I rose at about 7:30, we were well out to sea, and a breakfast of croissant sandwiches and fruit was on the tables in the galley.

Passing Santa Cruz, the largest of the Channel Islands, about 2 1/2 hours later, we could see kayakers coming out of Painted Cave. Our ship’s captain, Alex Brodie, told us it’s one of the world’s largest sea caves. Still, I was surprised when he took our bulky vessel past the kayaks and a sailboat into the cavern.

The craggy walls dripped with lichen and multicolored mineral deposits, which give Painted Cave its name. It seemed like a Disneyland ride. I expected a tinny recording of pirates singing “Yo ho ho” to come over hidden loudspeakers.

The original plan was to head for San Miguel, the westernmost island at 55 nautical miles from the Ventura coast. But Santa Barbara Channel is unpredictable, and the crossing can be rough and sometimes impossible. Despite a stiff breeze, Alex decided to try for it. Two hours later we detoured for Santa Rosa Island; the boat could handle the wind and the large swells, but the crew had another factor to consider: seasickness. Seven passengers were ill, their faces the color of broccoli stalks. Rich and several others were wearing prescription patches for seasickness and fared fine.

About lunchtime, the ship pulled up to a ladder, and we climbed onto Santa Rosa.

Dave Began, a National Park Service volunteer on board to lead hikes, explained the island’s cattle ranching history. (The cattle were removed only last year to protect native plants.)

We walked through golden fields of grass covering rolling hills, but the landscape didn’t seem like anything we couldn’t see on the mainland. So Rich and I ditched the hikers and headed to Bechers Bay to walk on a stretch of white sand with a backdrop of towering dunes. The bay was bright turquoise. We peered into more sea caves and ate our packed lunches of turkey wraps and fruit. At the far end of the beach we leaned back against a small dune to nap.

The beach was the pickup point. In groups of six, we rode a little yellow skiff back to the Sundowner waiting in the bay. As the ship made its way to harbor at Johnson’s Lee on the south side of Santa Rosa, we enjoyed a dinner of pasta with chicken and sun-dried tomatoes and drank red wine from paper cups. Kathy de Wet-Oleson, a scuba instructor and an underwater photographer, was the ship’s cook, and her creations were good and plentiful.

Inside the lee the water was mirror smooth, reflecting a pastel sunset. The brownies Kathy had baked for dessert sounded tempting, but it was still light, and Rich and I were more interested in kayaking.

We had to rent our kayaks before the trip, taking a chance and spending $30 a day on gear that we might not have been able to use if it was too windy. Island Packers is considering ways to carry kayaks and rent them by the hour from the boat without breaking a ban on doing business inside the national park. The insurance policy required us to have a guide, so deckhand Jason, a member of the family that’s run Island Packers since its inception 31 years ago, led the way.

We glided around giant kelp, crackling like the amplified snapping of Rice Krispies. Jason said he’d heard people say that it was the sound of the kelp growing. Giant kelp (Macrocystis pyrifera) is one of the fastest-growing plants on Earth, sprouting about 2 feet a day.

A couple of harbor seals kept popping their heads above water. On shore, seals move with all the grace of Jabba the Hut and are afraid of people. But in the water they sometimes dart, spin and frolic like playful puppies.

A southern swell made the coastline dangerous, so we paddled to the mouth of the lee. “In this direction, the next piece of land is Antarctica,” Jason told us.

Using a flashlight, we made our way back to the ship.

Sunday, the plan was to head to San Miguel early in the morning when the sea was calm. I woke up at dawn, even before my unknown snoring bunkmate.

By now I had made friends with most of the other passengers, a group that included a rocket scientist, a teenage boy, sailors and retirees. I suspected the snorer was a witty German professor we had chatted with over lunch, but I didn’t ask because I preferred the mystery.

I joined the crew and a couple of other early risers in the warm steering cabin. We passed another trawler whose captain had radioed that he was turning back from San Miguel because the channel was too rough. But Alex decided to press on. People seemed to have their sea legs now. It got bumpy, but no one grew verdant.

We rode the skiff into Cuyler Harbor, ringed by a white sand beach. San Miguel is the wildest of the park’s islands. Its vegetation is different from anywhere on Earth.

We took a steep hiking trail on the precipice of a plunging canyon where fresh water runs, climbing past coreopsis, which look like miniature Joshua trees. Flowers in odd mauve and lavender colors bloomed against aqua-colored locoweed. The island looked unfamiliar, like something George Lucas might have dreamed up for a different planet.

I wasn’t ready to leave San Miguel: If there had been more time, we could have hiked seven miles to the Caliche Forest, a miniature petrified forest with calcium-carbonate casts of long-gone plants. Back on the ship we traveled past Point Bennett on the west side. Huge elephant seals and smaller harbor seals segregated themselves into two sunning camps. On San Miguel there are six different species of seals and sea lions. The sight was a nice parting gift.

After the seals’ barks faded, I carried a novel to an outdoor deck chair, settling in for the five-hour return trip to Ventura. The book was hardly opened.

Those blue whales and hundreds of dolphins? They were sights we just happened to bump into on the ride back home.

Diana Marcum is a freelance writer based in Palm Springs.

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Budget for Two

Spinnaker Seafood: $64.25

Island Packers (two-day cruise with all meals): 450.00

O.A.A.R.S. Kayaking (two kayaks, two days): 120.00

FINAL TAB: $634.25

Channel Islands National Park, tel. (805) 658-5730; Island Packers, tel. (805) 642-1393.