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Fantasy Island
by Kay and Hal Pastorius
Mysterious Anacapa holds a wilderness few have explored
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We thought Anacapa Island would seem very familiar to us -- after having cruised among California's Channel Islands many times over the past 15 years. But in all that time, we had never been ashore.
So, on a calm, sunny summer day, we headed out of Ventura Harbor -- 18 miles from Anacapa -- to satisfy our curiosity and hike along its wilderness shores. We hoped that the weather would cooperate long enough for us to spend at least one night at the unpredictable anchorage at Anacapa.
When we got there, we found many surprises in store for us.
++Mirage -- or Something More?==
Anacapa Island's name is derived from the Chumash Indian word "eneepah," which means "deception" or "mirage." And this small island certainly can look like nothing more than a mirage, with its top barely visible above the fog that often enshrouds it.
Anacapa is actually made up of three individual islets -- East Anacapa, Middle Anacapa and West Anacapa -- separated by very narrow passages.
The total area of this small island group is only about one square mile. It is almost five miles long, but only about a half mile at its widest point.
The "passages" between the tiny islands are blocked by rocks that are barely awash, so taking a boat between the islets is not possible.
Anacapa is protected as part of Channel Islands National Park. Its West End -- except for tidepools and Frenchy's Cove -- is off limits to hikers, because it is a brown pelican rookery.
Visitors, however, are allowed to explore East Anacapa Island's network of trails and its campground area. A landing permit is required for those who arrive in their own boats.
Boaters gain access to East Anacapa through a small cove on the north side of the island, with high cliffs on all sides. An imposing landing platform and a zig-zagging steel staircase takes visitors from the water to the cliff top.
When we arrived, we anchored in 40 feet of water, with sand and occasional rock bottom, near Lighthouse Cove and the landing platform. We rowed our dinghy to the platform's pilings and climbed a tall steel ladder to the first step on our trek up the cliff, hanging on for dear life.
As we approached the ladder top, we crawled onto the landing platform and then tried to bring the dinghy up after us. Getting the dinghy over the top rail and up to the platform without puncturing it was a two-person job.
After the dinghy was stowed, we climbed up the 150-plus steps of the staircase to the island plateau, where we were met by a park naturalist. A 2.5 mile self-guided nature trail starts at the ranger station here, and a brochure about the island is available, along with a map.
Once on terra firma, the first thing we noticed was the spectacular view. It was a clear day, and we could see far out to sea -- both Santa Barbara and Santa Cruz islands -- and looking back across the island, we could see all the way to the Santa Inez Mountains on the mainland.
Looking down from the cliff, we saw sea lions frolicking in the surf and sleeping in the sun on craggy shoreline rocks. Western gulls fed their young as we stood and watched, and cormorants stretched their wings to dry before taking another dive. Black oyster catchers with brilliant red beaks added their shrill cry to the cacophony of the island's wildlife sounds.
++Looks Can Be Deceiving==
At first glance, Anacapa looks like nothing but barren volcanic rock. There are no trees or bushes.
The island's largest plants come to life in the spring after winter rains, when the giant coreopsis (also called tree sunflowers) bloom and a general greening of the island occurs. Throughout the rest of the year, prickly pear cacti, cholla and the native Channel Island dudleya (which looks like iceplant) are dominant.
Still, Anacapa teems with wildlife. But people have never really been at home here.
While large Indian middens (excavated refuse heaps) have been found on Santa Cruz and San Miguel islands, no permanent Indian settlement was ever made in Anacapa's harsh environment. Only a small midden has been found on East Anacapa, near the trail -- an area thought to be a stop for Catalino Indians who once fished, repaired canoes and rested here between trips across the channel.
The most distinctive man-made landmark on East Anacapa -- the lighthouse -- dates back to 1932. It was constructed after ,/Winfield Scott== a 225 foot steamer, went aground in dense fog. Coast Guard personnel operated the lighthouse until it was fully automated in 1966.
Other buildings on the island date to the time when Coast Guard officers lived on Anacapa. The National Park Service now uses these historic buildings for rangers' housing, a visitors center and maintenance equipment storage.
In keeping with the island's overall "mirage" atmosphere, the church-like building on East Anacapa is not a church -- and it's not really a building, either. It is actually a facade that surrounds two water storage tanks.
For years, passing vandals used the island's formerly in-plain-sight water tanks for target practice. But since the church facade was constructed around the tanks, the threat of running out of fresh water due to bullet holes has been eliminated.
++Diving by Television==
A new summer activity on East Anacapa -- one of the highlights of going ashore -- is a live scuba diving demonstration at the landing platform, at 2 p.m. Tuesdays and Thursdays.
As visitors watch video monitors, a diver with a video camera swims through the giant kelp forest near the landing. Thanks to a two-way communication system, the diver can relate what he is seeing and answer questions.
This underwater area is totally protected, and the fish shown on the video monitors seem to know it. Kelp bass, Garibaldi and senorita fish swim by the camera, lobsters poke their antennae out from under crevices, brightly colored nudibranch and giant sea hares cling to rocks, purple sea urchins slowly wave their spiky arms and sea slugs inch along the bottom.
During our trip, fascinated visitors stared at the three monitors in awe. Even seasoned divers were impressed with the incredible underwater show.
++Not All Anchorages are Inviting==
As the afternoon winds started to pick up, it was time for us to find an anchorage for the night.
The most protected anchorage for the prevailing northwesterlies is on the back or south side, just past the impassible opening separating East Anacapa and Middle Anacapa islands. Anchoring is in 50 feet of water or more, and there is kelp and surge to
contend with.
Fishing boats favor an anchorage a little to the west, called East Fish Camp. It offers good holding in 30 to 40 feet of water, with a sand and rock bottom.
The weather seemed calm, so we headed for West Anacapa and anchored at Frenchy's Cove -- Anacapa's most popular anchorage. There are no all-weather anchorages at Anacapa, however, and Frenchy's is exposed to winds from a general northerly direction.
Since the slopes of West Anacapa are the primary nesting grounds of the brown pelican, most of this islet is closed to the public. Landing is only allowed on a small beach at Frenchy's Cove, with a very limited hiking area. Signs are everywhere notifying boaters of the areas that are off limits.
Frenchy's Cove was named for the late Frenchy Ledreaux, a hermit who lived on Anacapa for more than a quarter century. Remains of his dwelling can still be seen on the ridge above the beach.
Exploring this area by dinghy at low tide, we found some interesting tidepools and caves to putter around.
That evening, as we settled in for the night, a swell started coming into the anchorage from the northwest, making us very uncomfortable. We still had an hour until sunset, so we hauled in the anchor, went around the west end and anchored in the lee of Cat Rock -- on the opposite side of the same island.
What a difference another anchorage can make. It was flat calm, and the sunset was spectacular.
While Anacapa is not everyone's idea of paradise, it is a spot no Southern California boater should miss. Its steep cliffs and harsh environment keep many people away, but its rugged, untamed wilderness is a refreshing diversion -- less than 20 miles from abundant development on the mainland.
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This article first appeared in the July 1, 1994 issue of Sea Magazine. All or parts of the information contained in this article might be outdated. |
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