Ventura and The Channel Islands

19th Dec – 23rd Dec 2021

From Morro Bay we continued south down the coast to our next stop, Ventura. It was getting noticably busier on the roads and the wild idyll of the northern coast was giving way to large conurbations that melded together. The presence of the not-so-distant monster that is Los Angeles was starting to be palpable. The drive was easy, just cruising along US-101 and our park was easy to find in Ventura because it was about 5 metres away from the busy highway. A lot of parks we stay at are close to a road or a railway line, but this one took the biscuit. It was so noisy. Despite it’s proximity to the relentless traffic this park billed itself as a ‘resort’ and was a bit swanky, or at least half the park was. We were in the other half, of course. It was a short walk to the beach, had a heated pool and we had to wear wrist bands to prove that we were guests to the full time security at the gate. All this seemed a bit overkill at this time of year, as was their nightly rate, which was ridiculous. This, however, was the only RV park anywhere near the the town, and we had to pay for the pleasure.

Our motivation for being here was that this is the jump-off point for access to the Channel Islands. No relation to the tax haven rocks in the English Channel, these eight islands sit in the Southern Californian Bight, between 25 and 100km off shore. The earliest paleontological evidence of human existence in North America was found on these islands at least 13,000 years ago. Now five of the Islands form a National Park and boat trips facilitate short day trips or longer camping adventures. We had booked a day trip to Santa Cruz Island on our second full day here.

Ventura boasts a typical SoCal sandy beach with the obligatory surfing vibe and a long paved promenade that was busy with surf watchers, bikers, dog-walkers, skateboarders, meanderers and sitters. On our first full day here we saddled up the bikes and cruised up the prom and through a nice residential area (some of it a canal development with the homes having their own docks) to the marina at the other end of town. This was to scope out the route for the next day, which had an early start. It was a very manageable 40 minute cycle. The marina was large, full of enviable boats, and also home to the local fishing fleet of purse seiners. We had a coffee in the sun, perused a few shops and headed back to base where we showered and headed back to town on foot late afternoon for a mooch around and dinner. Ventura, like many towns, created a pedestrian-only zone on a section of its main street to aid social distancing and outdoor dining for Covid. This is still in place here and gave the town centre a great vibe. We wandered around to select a dinner venue with a good outdoor area and then, as it was still early, headed to the beach and the old pier to kill some time. The original pier was built in 1872, negating the precarious task of offloading cargo and passengers from ships using smaller boats. It has had several incarnations over the years as it has been victim to nature’s fury and fire multiple times. Now it benefits from historical preservation efforts and provides a very satisfactory location for a sunset stroll. During our time-killing perambulations we came across a building at the start of the pier which was a brewery called MadeWest upstairs and a fish restaurant downstairs. It looked like a complete mediocre tourist trap at first glance, but further investigation showed it to be quite the opposite. We sat on the outdoor balcony upstairs, screened from the breeze with perspex windbreaks, under electric heaters, drinking fine beer, being served a great dinner by the downstairs restaurant, with the best view of the sunset in town. There was a small group of locals doing the same we felt a bit like we had stumbled into a private club. Sometimes you get lucky.

We were on the bikes again by 7.15am the next morning, prepared for our day out on the island. Camera, binocculars, packed lunch packed, and most importantly – seasickness pill taken by me. I love the ocean, but it doesn’t love me. We arrived back at the marina in good time and joined our fellow boat passengers in a very civilised, socially distanced queue. It was a lovely morning, but cool and as most people felt compelled to rush for the outside upper deck seats, we opted for inside. All were wearing masks so we gambled on staying warm over better ventilation. The sea was kind on the one hour trip to Santa Cruz Island. Not only was it reasonably calm but it also delivered us a spectacular superpod of 700-1000 dolphins that stayed with us for a good 15 mins. It was amazing. One of life’s ‘bliss moments’ that need to be permenantly stored in an easily accessible part of one’s memory to be recalled often, especially in times of funk. Consider it done.

The island was a delight. The facilities were all very basic with a network of trails, a old ranch homestead which is now a simple interpretive site, a (fairly deserted) sprawling tent campsite, a few composting toilets and plenty of killer views. The boat disgorged us, with about 50 others who all set off en masse in the same direction on the shortest trail, so we went the other way and saw almost no-one all day. We had about 5 hours before our return boat left the island, so plenty of time to bimble about, take in the scenery and loaf about eating sandwiches.

The Island has some very cute native foxes. These are descended from the larger grey foxes of the mainland, and probably floated over on debris about 18,000 years ago. They are small, about the size of a little cat and have an omniverous diet including berries and deer mice. They were nearly wiped out by the arrival of Bald Eagles in the 1990s as they had no concept of aerial predators but their population has now recovered after ‘relocation of the eagles back to the mainland’ and a captive breeding program. They are very sweet and also have no fear of humans. In fact, one park ranger that we spoke to said it seemed that the foxes had actually missed the presence of people during the year when the island was vacated due to Covid, running down to the dock en masse when the first boat arrived.

The trip home was even calmer and the dolphins put in another appearance. I wonder how many times one would have to see this spectacle before getting blassé about it. On our arrival back at the mainland it was already dusk and we quickly cycled home trying to get back before it got too dark. It was cold so we didn’t stop to admire some of the very impressive Christmas house decorations. It’s not just about strings and strings of fairy lights here. No. It’s all about the inflateable lawn/balcony/roof ornaments. Some people looked like they needed an intervention!

Having left Ventura the next morning we finally headed away from the coast and thrashed our way East across the north of the LA area. It was busy, the highways full of impatient drivers and was a moderately unpleasant experience. None of these things were unexpected though. We had a one night stop in San Bernadino, north-east of LA , only hearing gunshots once in the night, and then headed off to our Christmas rendez-vous in Palm Desert, a neighbour to Palm Springs. As was becoming a bit of a common theme of this trip to date, we made this short-ish journey in the rain. This was the precursor to our 3rd ‘atmospheric river’ in just over 3 weeks. Oh, the irony of arriving in a desert in a 24 hour downpour.