Santa Cruz Island, Channel Islands National Park. Part I: The Whale

After 13 long years for Kathryn, and 6 for Brenda, the Intrepiduo finally achieved their dream of visiting the stunning Channel Islands. With Kiley in tow as an Intrepid-Adventurer-in-Training (and as our videographer), we arrived in Ventura on Thursday night and dined at the charming Spasso (highly recommended by all). Friday morning we boarded the Island Packers ferry and hit the open water.  We had over an hour before we reached the island.

To the uninitiated, the crossing itself might be considered dangerous, and indeed, we experienced rough seas that most other passengers found debilitating. We, however, kept everyone laughing with tall tales of Campbellian land-locked exploits, after which most people asked, “whyever do you associate with such a tool?” After we had soothed everyone's seasickness we turned our attention to the open seas. To our delight, we spied dozens of sea lions lounging on a buoy and at least one hundred dolphins swimming by our side.

The Majestic Blue Whale

Thinking that things couldn’t possibly get any better, we looked off the starboard side and thar she was! A majestic blue whale!  Everyone on the boat came rushing starboard to ooh and ah when the unthinkable happened! Far in the distance, we saw a sail boat floating peacefully on the horizon -- and the whale was headed right for it.    We tried to signal to the sail boat, warning the passengers of the impending danger.  In the choas, we lost sight of the whale.  And then without warning, the whale surged from the sea and threw its massive body on top of the boat as its  passengers screamed for help.    We knew we had little time to waste--this was a job for the Intrepiduo!

We climbed onto the railing of our catamaran, jumped into the frigid waters, and began swimming toward the nearly-capsized sailboat.  Our first order of business was to get the passengers to safety while keeping the circling whale at bay. We tried to calm the frantic passengers who clung to its sides for dear life.  Finally, we could see the spray of the whale's spout as her back broke the surface of the water.   To show we meant her no harm, Kathryn yelled: “We seek you not! It is thou, thou, that madly seeks us!” Puzzled by this Melvillian reversal, the whale paused in her pursuit long enough for Brenda to help everyone climb back onto the sailboat.  When only the two of us remained in the water, Kiley threw us life jackets and begged us to leave the whale alone, but how could we? How could we deny ourselves the most intrepid adventure ever??

Finally, our hobby of humming cetacean lullabies would pay off! We began to sing the eerie songs, softly at first, we gathered volume as it became clear that our duet was winning the great beast over. Soon, she was gazing at us with a look usually reserved for warriors—and we knew the time was right. Still singing, Brenda climbed up the left side of her dorsal fin, and Kathryn the right, until we were astride her back. Lifting our arms in victory we shouted, “Long live the Intrepiduo!” A loud cheer errupted from the boat as we caravanned the rest of the way to Santa Cruz Island.

Approaching the island

As we gripped the whale's back and fought the salty sea spraying in our faces, it became clear that the whale had recognized our intrepediness and was happy to finally meet worthy challengers.  We took deep breaths as the whale dove deep to the ocean floor and, just before our lungs burst, reached the surface again.  We shouted our triumphs to the sky!  As the shore of Santa Cruz Island neared, the whale sped up and forced her massive body out of the water once again, causing the three of us to take flight for just a moment. And, as we crashed back into the surf, we understood the bond that had been established.  We knew would meet this whale again.  As the water became shallow, we slowly climbed down from our nautical stead.  But before we left, we looked the whale in the eye and thanked her for her strength and grace -- knowing that these were the same traits she honored in us.  While we were sad to see the great creature go, we could not imagine a more glorious dance with with such intrepidness.  

Bidding the whale farewell.

Cool Points: 10

Intrepid Points: 10

Santa Cruz Island, Channel Islands National Park. Part II: Smuggler's Cove

The smuggler's trail sign -- not that we needed it....

Despite being a tad fatigued after our whale riding adventure, we still had a full day of hiking before us. We were itching to hit the trails, but were first forced to listen to a park ranger drone on about safety on the island. Unsure as to whether the ranger told us to leave our gangs or our bongs on the boat (neither made much sense….), Kathryn and I simply scoffed, knowing that safety was not our primary concern. While nearly everyone else opted to go on a guided tour of the island (which is presumably where Campbell would have “hiked”), the three of us decided to tackle the seven mile Smuggler’s Cove trail.

Our trail....a long way to go. 

Kathryn and the other Channel Islands

Though we had each packed for miserable weather, we were thrilled to find ourselves shedding layers and reapplying sunscreen as the morning mist burned off. The trail was steep at moments, but straining muscles were easily forgotten as we took in the views – towering hills rose to our left and the Pacific hovered to our right. We could not recall a more beautiful afternoon. 

After a couple of hours, we finally hiked down to the cove, where we encountered what was possibly the most beautiful beach any of us have seen. The shore was covered with drift wood, rocks of all sizes, and even the remnants of a sail boat. Yet, perhaps the most breathtaking element was the sound. As one wave rolled in, another simultaneously rolled out. The continuously crashing surf let out deafening SMACKS!! And as the waves rolled into each other, the shoreline’s rocks smashed together and emitted a crackling and crunching sound. 

We dug lunches out of our packs and simply took it all in.  Some sights and sounds:

 

Of course, we couldn’t leave the beach before refreshing our tired feet in the cold water.

Heading back to meet the boat.

 As we dried off, we lamented the fact that we weren’t staying the night on the island and made promises to come back with camping gear. Though we wanted to stay at the beach for many more hours, we had a boat to catch. So we packed our things and began our trek back across the island.

During our hike, we kept a lookout for the aforementioned smugglers, but were disappointed to only be met by three fairly un-talkative and lackluster Brits – would Campbell would return from his trip with a similar affect, we wondered?  With that question in mind, we had but only a few thoughts to share with our (not-quite-so-intrepid) friend:

Kayaking in Monterey Bay

Before heading over to Monterey Bay, Kiley and I first stopped off at the Point Lobos State Reserve for some easy hiking. The scenery was breathtaking. While looking out at the sea that I would conquer in my kayak the next day, I noticed spouts in the distance. I knew at once they were grey whales and yelled, "Thar she blows!" as I pointed to the whales surfacing in the distance. The less-than-observant "hikers" around me expressed gratitude at my ability to look at nature with such a discerning eye.

While walking the trails, I was disappointed by their flatness. Yes, the views were spectacular, but I wasn't feeling the intrepidness I craved. Upon spying a cypress hanging precariously over a cliff, I decided to climb it -- just to keep up my daily intrepid mojo so that I was prepared for upcoming adventures.

The next day, Kiley and I got suited up for kayaking -- we wore water proof pants and a jacket that would prevent hypothermia in case our kayaks tipped (and, given Kiley's track record for tipping jet skis, I suited up just so he wouldn't feel singled out). We had opted to go with a guide for our first time kayaking in the bay, but she quickly sized me up and we knew that she would do no real guiding on that day -- especially since Kiley and I were the only ones brave enough to venture into the surf. Before we put the kayaks in the water, the guide warned us about the white caps that had been spotted earlier in the day. She also claimed that sharks are seldom seen in the bay, but I relished the possibilities. I climbed into my kayak and dared the crashing waves to capsize me.

We kayaked through the kelp forests, pausing only to enjoy the sea creatures who floated alongside us. A female sea otter and her pup popped their heads up right next to me. I broke several federal and state laws by reaching out to pet them. I led Kiley and the guide around the bay for three hours, encouraging them when they needed it most. After they tired, I hid my dissapointment and agreed to head to shore with them. Their fatigue prevented me from fully doing battle with the sea. I watched as Kiley and the guide took turns battling the waves as they paddled toward shore. Only after they reached safety did I feel comfortable paddling myself in. The waves grew bigger and bigger the closer I got to shore. The sea did not want me to leave and was doing what it could to defeat me! But I just chuckled, knowing I would prevail. Waves smashed against the kayak, threatening to tip me. I could see them slamming against the shoreline, taunting me, daring me to leave. At the last minute, my kayak found the top of a wave and I coasted in. My kayak and I never once wavered. Indeed, only once my kayak touched the beach did the sea attempt to assault me one last time. A giant wave slammed into my back, sending ice-cold water running down the back of my waterproof jacket. I picked the seaweed out of my shoes and looked back at the sea, silently promising that we would duel again. 

It was at this moment that I began to wonder about the land-locked adventures of one Brad Campbell.  Such a shame that he will be mocked by the very sea I tamed. 

Cool Points: 10
Intrepid Points: 7

SLO Triple Crown of Hiking

Last Thursday, while reading about my friend's attempts at intrepidosity in Ireland, I found myself almost pitying him. In his blog he is forced to adopt the persona of an Intrepid One, rather than actually being intrepid. This persona is even more confused by his seeming equation of intrepidosity with 17th century English-speak ("verily, friend, I say unto you" sounds more like a Puritan than a 21st century adventure-monger). And yet, the Puritan-speak is at crosshairs with the constant allusions to his purportedly massive balls, which results in confusion and causes one to question the veracity of his so-called exploits. To see this friend, who has accompanied the Intrepiduo on numerous stateside adventures, fall so low and yet try so hard, inspired me to dedicate my daily intrepid feat to him. And so, my dear friend BC, this hike was for you.

I began at Reservoir Canyon, tucked into the rocky hillside off Johnson Avenue. This hike is easier to ascend than to descend because it is so steep. I reached the top in a mere 26 minutes, clearly at the top of my game. After a brief five-minute rest (to snap the photo above), I scrambled down the peak. Total hiking time: 46 minutes.

The second leg of my Triple Crown was Bishop's Peak. This old favorite felt like a walk in the park after Reservoir Canyon. Total hiking time: 63 minutes.

From there I scaled Cerro San Luis, or Madonna Mountain as some of the ill-informed locals call it. True to the final leg of the Triple Crown, the Belmont Stakes, this hike is the longest of the three. But true to my intrepid form, I zipped up and down in record time. In fact, I was feeling so good that I ran a good bit of the way down. Total hiking time: 61 minutes.

As I said, I dedicate this hike to my intrepidocity-challenged friend, and hope that this feat will remind him what being intrepid is all about.

Coolness points: 5

Intrepid points: 7

Icehouse Saddle, Angeles National Forest

While attending a seminar for English Department Chairs sponsored by the Association of Departments of English (ADE), I decided to skip the tame stroll around the Huntington Library gardens and instead go boldly where no ADE Chair had dared to go: Mt. Baldy. Better known as a winter ski resort, thus testifying to its sheer drops and rugged terrain, Mt. Baldy is situated in the Angeles National Forest and offers dozens of scenic hiking trails, including the Icehouse Saddle Trail.

When word of my intrepidness leaked at the conference, three other Chairs begged to join me, no doubt to prove their virility in the face of such an audacious female Chair. With thoughts of Campbell in my head, I took pity on them and agreed to hike with them, provided they could keep up.

Normally I would have simply driven to the trailhead and begun my hike, but my fellow hikers were a bit more nervous than I, so we checked in with the ranger. He warned us about the difficulty of this hike, and informed us that a bear had been caught two days before; "please," he urged, "take every precaution." A mild panic set into my fellow hikers' eyes, and I knew it fell to me to help them conquer their fear. "Onward and upward!" I cried, hiking poles lifted high above my head. And so we were off.

What a trail! Canyon walls rose steeply and craggy peaks seemed to touch the rich blue sky. Pine, cedar, and oak trees formed a canopy near the creek, and wildflowers dotted the sides of the trail. The sheer cliffs beckoned me and I led the group higher and higher until finally we reached the saddle--a 2655' elevation gain in 3.5 miles. Spectacular! I pressed to go further, but my companions were too tired, so we descended. We ended the 7 mile hike by bathing our feet in the glacial creek at the foot of the mountain. My hiking companions were so grateful for my intrepidosity that they bought me drinks and dinner that night.

Cool points: 8

Intrepid points: 7

Oats Peak -- Montana de Oro State Park

Oats Peak is one of the more challenging hikes in the Montana de Oro State Park. With an elevation gain of 1,335 feet, it requires tenancity and drive to make it up and down the numerous hills one must climb before making to the summit. Having already dealt with one spill while hiking by myself earlier in the week, I disregarded my scrapes and bruises as I set out with Kathryn and Kiley to look Oats Peak in the eye once again.

The trail itself is made up of loose gravel and rock shards that aim to disrupt even the surest of footing. And while Kathryn hiked at a faster clip than I, never did I falter. Even after I reached the top of one peak, I took a deep breath and pressed on as I saw my destination -- two steep hills away. Occasionally I forced myself to stop and look at the stunning terrain surrounding me.

After one final push, I met Kathryn at the top, only to be met by gale force winds that forced us to shout if we wanted to communcate with one another. Our faces stung from the fine silt being tossed about by the wind. We stood in silence as we looked on at the setting sun's reflection on the ocean below us.

On the way back, I stepped in a hole that Oats had cleverly concealed on its trail. I took only a moment to brush myself off as I glanced at the new scrapes and bruises which paired nicely with the ones I already had.

Curiously, we met no other hikers on the Oats Peak trail, leaving me confident in our intrepidness. We rewarded our efforts by dipping our fatigued feet into the ocean's surf while Oats loomed over us, daring us to return.

Cool Points: 5

Intrepid Points: 6