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pocket-lad · 1 year ago

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CH 1- A Dying Man's Wish

Hey, we're back with a sequel to Only a Couple Days! Join Adelaide and Ian in their adventure to Isla Sorna. All new characters and all new situations, but the same ol' g/t. Links to the prev story below.

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Adelaide woke up in a dark, soft, and confined space. A fast and rhythmic thumping pounded against the wall behind her. That’s what had woken her up.

Curious and a little groggy from her unintentional nap, Adelaide started to pull herself to the top of Ian’s pocket. It was his heart that pounded behind her, but she wasn’t sure what he could possibly be nervous/excited/mad about.

She had almost made it to the top when a gentle pressure pushed her into Ian’s chest, sending her back to the bottom. It was probably (hopefully) his hand, and he probably passed it off as an itch or something to the outside world, but this was his way of telling her not to come out. Just as quickly as the pressure appeared, it vanished.

Instead of kicking him and stubbornly trying again, Adelaide decided to actually use her ears and figure out where they were before she moved. She chided herself for just assuming she was in the clear.

There was a loud, ever-present clattering noise that she couldn’t identify, and the faint sound of people talking. Then, a much louder, much closer voice spoke.

“You’re him, right?”

Ian responded, and his voice reverberated throughout Adelaide’s body. It was louder than usual, as it often was when he spoke to other Beans. “Excuse me?”

“The scientist? The guy? I saw you on TV.”

Ian’s heart rate picked up even more, and Adelaide started to catch on. After they left the island, there was a ton of ‘legal drama’, though she didn’t understand much of it. What she did know was that someone or something powerful was mad at Ian because he spoke out about what happened. That earned him a lot of negative attention, and he frequently complained about it to her when he got home.

Adelaide didn’t leave the house very often, so she never experienced this firsthand, but now, here they were. And he was right. It was annoying.

Without a response from Ian, the guy kept pushing. “I believed you.” Again, Ian didn’t say anything. The guy then roared, imitating a dinosaur.

Ian just shifted away, sending Adelaide to the other side of the pocket, but she didn’t even register the movement, too preoccupied with this guy’s audacity. She applauded Ian for his restraint because, if it were her, she would have already gone feral. Who did this guy think he was? What kind of asshole would act like that? Adelaide had to restrain herself from jumping out of the pocket and sticking him with her knife. The only thing holding her back was the fact that it sounded like more people were around.

After that, the guy left them alone, but Adelaide stayed fuming for a long time, and she could not sit still. The pocket was cramped, and though it was cozy when she needed a nap, it was stifling when she was full of energy.

Eventually, Ian stood up, and gravity forced Adelaide to the bottom of the pocket. As he started walking, she dared to peek her head out, but upon seeing a vast sea of people, ducked back down. Adelaide felt a little exhilarated. This was the longest trip she’d ever taken outside, excluding Jurassic Park, and the appeal of adventure was tantalizing. Sitting in Ian’s pocket, she was invincible, and she could go anywhere.

Actually, not too long ago, Adelaide actively did not want to tag along when he went places, but on one particular day, Ian won her over, as he so often did.

***

“This sounds very familiar... Oh yeah, it sounds exactly like that time you begged me to come to Jurassic Park and we almost died,” Adelaide said.

“Hey-”

“No, I’m sorry. That was too far. I was joking. Not a good joke... I just don’t have any desire to see John Hammond ever again.” Adelaide had long since forgiven Ian for dragging her along. She never really blamed him in the first place. John Hammond, however...

“Neither do I, but he um, he insists. What am I supposed to do? Not honor a dying – a dying man’s wishes?” Ian protested.

Adelaide stopped. “Woah, he’s dying?”

“That’s what it sounded like.”

She gave it some thought. The appeal of seeing new sights and feeling fresh air on her skin was strong, so half the battle was already won for him. And Ian was right – they couldn’t just ignore someone who was dying.

“Man...” Adelaide trailed off, unable to think of an argument she hadn’t used yet.

“Please don’t make me do this by myself,” Ian complained.

“Fine,” Adelaide conceded. “But no dinosaurs!”

“No dinosaurs,” Ian agreed.

***

Adelaide pounded her fists on Ian’s chest.

He looked down, wondering what she was getting at, and checked around himself before he pinched the pocket open. “What?”

“Is it clear? I’m dying,” Adelaide whined.

Ian checked around again, just in case, then gave her the all clear. “Just be prepared to uh, duck back down. We’re almost – almost at the door.”

Adelaide rushed to the top, hanging her arms dramatically over the edge of the pocket. Fresh air met her face, and she closed her eyes as she took a long, deep breath. This felt nice.

The world around her was gorgeous. Lush green grass with all kinds of colorful flowers lined the walkway, which was impeccably clean itself. The sky was crystal clear, and an active, ornate fountain stood up ahead before a massive house. House? Castle? Adelaide didn’t know it was possible to have a house this big. Ian’s was big, but it was nothing compared to this.

As they approached the door, Adelaide took one last breath, savoring the crisp fall air. Then, she retreated back into the pocket. Hammond knew about her, sure, but she didn’t know who else would be there and she didn’t want to chance anything. No way he lived in that big of a space by himself. That would just be greedy.

Ian checked to make sure Adelaide was in place before he rang the doorbell.

They didn’t have to wait long before an old man hesitantly opened the door. “Who should I tell Mr. Hammond is calling?” he asked in a fancy accent.

“Uh, Ian Malcolm,” Ian said. “I’ve been summoned.” He gave a light shrug.

Adelaide hated not knowing what was going on. She trusted Ian completely, but she preferred to see where they were and who was around, just in case. The anticipation of literally anything happening was unbearable sometimes.

As they entered the mansion, Adelaide heard faint music. It was almost immediately interrupted by a semi-familiar voice.

“Dr. Malcolm!”

Another familiar voice. “Hello, Dr. Malcolm!”

Oh my god ! It was Lex and Tim! But like.... definitely older. They did all the “great to see you's” and such, and she felt them give Ian a hug.

Adelaide was torn. Again, she didn’t know who was around, and she hadn’t seen these guys in forever. They were still kids, still dangerous, but they literally survived near-death experiences together. That had to count for something, right?

“Is Adelaide with you?” Lex asked. It seemed Adelaide’s decision was made for her.

“Oh yeah, she’s right here,” Ian said as he patted the pocket, knowing full well how much it would annoy Adelaide.

“Dude!” Adelaide called after being repeatedly shoved into his chest. She was not amused, but it certainly sounded like the kids were, if their giggles were any indication. She guessed that meant she should come out and say hello.

Adelaide stuck her head out, but almost fell back to the bottom of the pocket when she saw just how big they were. Lex was at eye level and Tim was fast approaching.

“Hi,” Adelaide said after an awkward pause. “You got... tall.” What else should she say?

“You didn’t,” Tim snickered.

“Tim!” Lex chided, smacking him on the arm, but Adelaide laughed.

“That was my bad. I uh… walked into that one,” she chuckled. The kids sobered up quickly and Adelaide noticed that they seemed.... stiff.

“Is everything okay?” Ian asked, picking up on the tension in the air as well.

“Well, not exactly,” Lex admitted. Not a second later, hordes of footsteps could be heard trampling down the stairs. Adelaide turned to look but was blocked by the wall that was Ian’s chest. Better safe than sorry.

“That sounds like my cue.... Good to see you guys again,” Adelaide said. She wasn’t sure if that was true, but at the very least it was polite. She applauded herself on the normal social interaction as she ducked down just in time to hear someone call Ian.

“Here to share a few campfire stories with my uncle?” it said in a cold, pretentious, and accented voice.

Ian’s heart rate picked up again. “You can convince the Washington Post and Skeptical Inquirer of what you want, but I was there. I know what happened and so do you,” he said.

“Do you actually believe that everyone who chose discretion did so for a nefarious motive? Even Lex and Tim?” the man countered.

Oh. This felt different than the guy on the subway. This man sounded smart. He sounded like he was well aware of the situation and knew how to handle it. He sounded exactly like the guys Ian complained about.

Adelaide felt herself get riled up all over again. She listened as they argued about stuff she already knew. Signing an agreement, misinforming the public, compensation for Ian's injuries (which he didn’t take, much to Adelaide’s protests), and the loss of his tenure.

Her blood boiled as they continued to talk. Ian kept trying to defend himself, but it was a losing battle. She wished he would just punch the man square in the jaw instead. Ian wouldn’t win by talking – he was good at it, but it sounded like these guys were better. He could definitely win by brute force. Apparently Human Beans frowned upon that, though.

Adelaide didn’t notice how much she was moving, frustrated that she couldn’t defend her friend, through words or fighting or otherwise, until Ian once again laid a hand over top of her. Entirely not in the mood, she kicked at it until it left. Maybe she should show herself. Maybe if the man saw her, she could use his momentary shock to attack.

In fact, Adelaide almost did that when she heard him say, “Careful. This suit cost more than your education.”

Not long after, Ian pinched the pocket open as he approached Hammond’s room, annoyed. “Stop moving so much!” he said. His face took up the whole opening, making Adelaide feel like she was under a microscope. She had to remind herself that he wasn’t annoyed with her , it was just a shitty situation to be in and she probably wasn’t helping by wriggling around.

“I can’t help it! It’s cramped and I’m pissed off! He shouldn’t talk to you that way!”

Ian laughed sadly. “That’s uh, just the way the world works.”

“I need to move around,” Adelaide said. “I have too much energy and I might just channel it into stabbing that guy's eyeball.”

“Okay,” Ian blinked. “That’s... maybe we need to take it down – take it down a skosh.” He knocked on a gorgeously carved wooden door, and a faint ‘come in’ was heard.

Adelaide let out a frustrated noise as Ian opened the door. The appeal of adventure was wearing off by the second, and she regarded the pocket with distaste as she plopped down again . Maybe going outside was not her thing. There was enough adventure in the walls, anyway.

“You’re alright, it’s uh, just Hammond,” Ian said aloud.

Adelaide didn’t like that he announced her presence, but Hammond probably already knew. Plus, she didn’t come all this way not to at least say hello. Tentatively, she peeked out.

Ian stood near the doorway, and across the room, in a decorated wooden bed, lay John Hammond, looking worse than the last time they met. He was surrounded by medical equipment that Adelaide recognized from their week in the hospital after Jurassic Park.

Adelaide didn’t even have time to wonder who was going to speak first, or what anyone was going to say.

“You were right, and I was wrong. There! Did you ever expect to hear me say such a thing? Thank God for Site B.” Hammond spewed those words out as if he’d been rehearsing them. He was absolutely the same man, but his energy was a lot more subdued.

Adelaide glanced up at Ian who was glancing down at her with the same confused expression.

“Site B?” Ian asked hesitantly, fearing an explanation would confirm what he thought might be true.

“Isla Nublar was just a showroom, something for the tourists. Site B was the factory floor. That was on Isla Sorna, miles from Nublar. We bred the animals there and nurtured them for a few months, then moved them into the park,” Hammond elaborated.

Ian slowly approached Hammond as he spoke. “Oh, really?” His tone was cautious, not wanting to give away exactly what he thought just yet.

Adelaide didn’t know what she expected. At least a ‘hello’, right? Some form of introduction or ‘how are you doing’? But they just sort of jumped into business. At the end of the day, that’s what John Hammond was – a businessman – but the immediate gravity of the discussion was jarring.

Hammond continued to explain that a storm wiped out the human facilities on that second island and the animals were somehow thriving, despite all the efforts to keep them from living without human involvement.

“How?” Adelaide blurted.

Although his smile was warm, Hammond’s cold, blue eyes focused in on her for the first time since they arrived, and it made her uneasy.

“That’s one of the thousand questions I want the team to answer,” he said.

“Oh,” Adelaide muttered, dissatisfied.

“Team?” Ian prompted calmly, also dissatisfied but knowing how to keep the conversation going. He still maintained his cool until he knew for sure what was happening and why exactly they were here.

Hammond continued his explanation as he struggled to get up out of bed. Ian offered a hand, which Hammond took, but then he was off on his own to the other side of the room. Adelaide stayed frozen and tense the whole time. Ian followed.

Apparently, Hammond gathered a team of people to study and document the dinosaurs. There were no fences on the island, but they’d stay away from the interior so as to avoid the ‘dangerous ones.’

As Hammond spoke, he addressed both Ian and Adelaide, so Adelaide had to pretend like she understood what he was talking about and nod along. When she couldn’t take it any longer, she climbed up to Ian’s shoulder, which was not easy when he wore his leather jacket. Even then, she dragged out the process to avoid engaging in the conversation.

“Don’t worry, I’m not making the same mistakes again,” Hammond assured. Adelaide couldn’t help but snort at the absurdity. They sure sounded like the same mistakes.

Maybe she should have been a bit more careful, but with the state Hammond was in, Adelaide doubted he posed any threat to her, especially up on Ian’s shoulder. So, she let herself laugh, but then almost immediately felt bad for thinking that. Jesus Christ, he’s dying. Be nice .

Ian voiced her thoughts aloud. At least, the ones about ‘making mistakes.’ “No, you’re making – you're making all new ones. Who are the four lunatics you’re trying to con into this?”

Oh no. Adelaide was fairly certain she knew why they were here now. Why else would Hammond invite them?

“Ian-” Adelaide started to warn him, but Hammond interrupted. Her voice was quiet, so probably not intentionally, but it peeved her off nonetheless.

“Nick Van Owen, a video documentarian.” Hammond handed Ian a stack of files as he spoke. “Eddie Carr, a field equipment expert. We have our paleontologist, and I was hoping you might be the fourth.”

Unfortunately, Adelaide assumptions were correct. She also didn’t miss the way Hammond didn’t count her as a person. “Absolutely not,” she said immediately.

Hammond took Ian’s arm and Adelaide pressed herself against Ian’s neck, just in case, but he only used it to help him walk.

Hammond tried for sympathy instead. Their company, InGen, was in legal trouble and there were some who wanted to exploit site B to bail them out. Apparently, a stupid rich family stopped on the island and their daughter obviously got hurt because it was full of dinosaurs, so that sped up the process. Essentially, Hammond no longer had control of the company.

“Don’t care,” Adelaide shrugged. Hammond ignored her, turning his attention fully to Ian.

“Public opinion is the one thing I can use to preserve the island, but to rally support, I need a complete photo record of those animals alive and in their natural habitats,” he said.

“So, you went from capitalist to naturalist in just four years. That’s - that's something,” Ian mused, but Hammond pushed on.

“It’s our last chance at redemption,” he pleaded.

“Don’t. Care.” Adelaide repeated, actively hoping to draw his attention back to her, which was... new. She was getting bolder, and she didn’t care that Hammond was a giant. She wasn’t going back to any island, Ian wasn’t going back to any island, and neither of them were ever going to see dinosaurs ever again. There was no argument. And Hammond needed to know that.

“Della,” Ian held up his hand, which meant ‘shut up’. Insulted, Adelaide was about to argue, but Ian continued, and it seemed like they were on the same page. Thank God. “John. No. Of course, uh, no. We’re not going. And I’m gonna contact the other three members of your team, and I’m gonna stop them, uh, from going. Who’s the paleontologist, by the way?”

Ian turned to go grab the other file and Hammond suddenly got defensive. “She - she came to me. I want you to know this.”

“Who did?” Ian asked.

Once again, Adelaide was fairly certain she knew who Hammond was talking about. It wasn’t good. And Ian was going to be pissed. She wondered if she should break it to him, or if she should let Hammond do it, or if Ian would figure it out all on his own. None of the options seemed appealing. So, Adelaide braced herself.

“Leave it to you, Ian, to have associations, affiliations, even liaisons, with the best people in so many fields.” Hammond intentionally avoided the question.

That was all it took, though. Ian stopped moving completely, and Adelaide was worried he stopped breathing. “You didn’t contact Sarah,” he exhaled. It wasn’t a question, or even a statement, really. Ian was speaking that sentence into existence. Hammond could not have contacted Sarah because Ian said it was so.

Hammond defended himself and Sarah while Ian frantically searched for a phone. His breathing became shallow and quick, like he was on the verge of a panic attack. Adelaide desperately wanted to do something, to be of literally any help, but she didn’t have the faintest idea what to say or where to start.

“Ian, breathe. I can feel you shaking. You need to calm down. You know Sarah. You know how smart and how capable and-” Adelaide could tell the words she whispered into his ear were not making it through to his brain, or if they were, he was ignoring them.

“It’s too late,” Hammond said. “She’s already there.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Adelaide yelled. “You didn’t have raptors chase you through a kitchen. You didn’t have your leg obliterated by a T-Rex. Why the hell aren’t you there, then? If you think it’s so safe?” Though she already had a couple small outbursts, this one took Hammond by surprise. He blinked, not expecting something so forceful to come out of such a small creature. Adelaide even surprised herself. It was a little harsh, but she stood by it.

Ian continued her train of thought as if they were the same person. “If you want to leave your name on something, fine. But stop putting it on other people’s headstones.” With that, Ian got up to leave. Their visit was over.

Hammond ignored the point they were making by diverting the conversation back to Sarah. “Oh, she’ll be fine. And believe me, the research team will-”

“It’s not a research expedition anymore,” Ian interrupted, stopping in his tracks to look Hammond in the eye. “It’s a rescue operation, and it’s leaving right now.” And then they were on their way out.

Adelaide exhaled as she let her body slide into the pocket from Ian’s shoulder, but she felt nothing. She felt numb. This was it. They were going back to Jurassic Park.

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#jurassic park #ian malcolm #g/t #giant/tiny #jurassic park g/t #gt #size difference

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spainwealth89-blog · 6 years ago

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California Fool’s Gold — Exploring Santa Cruz Island

A few weeks ago, I visited Santa Cruz Island for the first time and spent a few days exploring and camping with some good folks from Maptime LA. I’ve only visited one of the Channel Islands previously, Santa Catalina Island, which I first visited with Una on my birthday and then again with Maptime LA. Not only is Santa Cruz Island the largest of the Channel Islands, at 250 square kilometers, it’s also the biggest island in all of California.

The Channel Islands are one of the richest marine biospheres in the world, which is why they’re often referred to as the “the Galápagos Islands of North America.” There are about 150 species endemic to the Channel Islands. In the past, California was wetter and cooler, and many species evolved that lived on both the mainland and the islands. As California grew drier and hotter, and sea levels rose, one island became four and the channel between them and the mainland widened. As the mainland grew hotter and drier, some species there went extinct whilst some on the islands remained and continued to evolve, like the Channel Islands mammoth, a mammoth which stood only two meters tall and the remains of which were first discovered in 1856.

Extant flora unique to the island includes Channel Island Oak, Greene’s liveforever, Island ceanothus, Island Rush Rose, Island Tree mallow, and a subspecies of Torrey Pine. Animals found nowhere else include Channel Islands Slender Salamander (the only endemic amphibian on the islands), Channel Islands Spotted Skunk, flightless katydid, Island deer mouse, Island fence lizard, Island Fox, Island gopher snake (the only endemic snake on the northern islands), Island Night Lizard, Storm-petrel, and woodland skipper. The Channel Island Foxes, despite their diminutive size and undeniable cuteness, were historically the apex predator of the Channel Islands. Whereas some island species, like the Island Scrub Jay, evolved to be larger than their mainland relatives out of competition with similar species, the foxes, not in competition with any other predators, grew smaller to require fewer resources.

There are also species and subspecies unique to just Santa Cruz Island, including the aforementioned Island Scrub-Jay (the only bird in the continental US endemic to a single island), Santa Cruz Island bush mallow, Santa Cruz Island gooseberry, Santa Cruz Island lacepod, Santa Cruz Island live-forever, Santa Cruz Island manzanita, Santa Cruz Island silver lotus, Whitehair manzanita, and Santa Cruz Island monkeyflower — although the latter is possibly extinct.

The oldest human remains thus far discovered in the Americas are two femora discovered on neighboring Santa Rosa Island in 1959. Through radiocarbon dating, they were determined to be roughly 13,000 years old. That was during the last ice age, when sea levels were 46 meters lower and the four northern Channel Islands connected as one, retroactively named “Santa Rosae” (or “Santarosae”). The bones belonged to a hunter-gatherer known as the Arlington Springs Man (or Woman). Hunter-gatherers settling the New World are now referred to as Paleo-Indians and thus, differentiated from later Native American cultures even though they were certainly their ancestors.

The Chumash are known to have called the Channel Islands home for at least 11,000 years. Their name for Santa Cruz Island is Limuw. According to their traditional beliefs, they were created on the islands by the Earth Mother, Hutash from the seeds of a magic plant. The Chumash were cold so Hutash’s husband, Alchupo’osh (Sky Snake), gave them fire by launching a bolt of lighting. The Chumash tended and preserved the fire and used to keep warm and to cook food. The fire’s smoke attracted the watchful condor, then all-white, who was blackened with soot when he got too close. When the islands grew too crowded, the noise of singing and dancing grew annoying to Hutash who thus created a rainbow bridge to the mainland by connecting Limuw to Tzchimoos, a tall mountain near Mishopshno (Carpinteria). Some of the Chumash who crossed the bridge fell into the channel and were transformed by Hutash into dolphins, which are therefore regarded as kin by the Chumash.

Dolphins swimming the Channel

Of all Native Americans, only the Chumash, Tongva, and Mapuche of Chile are known to have possessed deep-seafaring boats, which the Chumash call tomol. The tomol were constructed from planks, reached lengths of ten meters, and held about ten passengers. The tomol-building Brotherhood of the Tomol disbanded in 1834. A new group was created in 1976 and their tomol, Helek, made the first inter-island journey since the 1800s. The Chumash Maritime Association was founded in 1996. In 1997, the group constructed a tomol called ‘Elye’wun, which in 2001 made the journey from the mainland to Limuw. I would love to be part of such a journey, but no one that I know shares my desire to row a plank canoe to a distant island.

The Chumash are believed to have settled and subsequently abandoned much of the mainland’s inland areas, including the Los Angeles Basin. The Chumash never developed agriculture but flourished as foragers and hunters. The traditional dietary stables of Santa Cruz Island’s Chumash included acorns, berries, tubers, island cherry, fish, shellfish, seabirds, and sea mammals. They used lemonade berries to make a beverage and traded with others to obtain chia, pine nuts, and deer meat.

They likely abandoned the inland after a prolonged drought. Around 3,500 years ago, the Tongva migrated to the region from the Sonoran Desert to the East. There are signs of pitched battles, probably between the Chumash and Tongva, on Santa Nicolas and San Clemente islands but by the time the Spanish arrived, the islands seem to have settled into a mostly peaceful existence. Remains of ten Chumash villages have thus far been discovered on Santa Cruz Island which is believed to have supported a permanent population of roughly 1,200. The largest village, Swaxil (Yshguagel), was located near the present-day location of Scorpion Ranch. Near Smuggler’s Cove was the village of Nanawani (Nanaguani). Located near the site of the main ranch was Hichimin. Near Prisoner’s Harbor was Kahas (also Xaxas or Cajats). Near Laguna Canyon was Shawa. In the interior, Liyam. Other villages included Ch ‘oloshush (Cholosos),��L’alale (Lalale), L’akayamu (Lacayamu), Lu’upsh (Luupsh), and Mashchal (Maschal).

In 1542, Juan Rodriguez Cabrillo became the first Spaniard to site the island, which he labeled “San Lucas” on his map. Sebastián Vizcaíno was tasked, in 1601, with mapping the California coastline. Toward the end of 1602, he entered California and curiously renamed San Lucas (or Limuw) “Isla de Gente Barbuda” or, “Island of Bearded People.” During an overland expedition in 1769, Gaspar de Portolà y Rovira was supposedly presented with a staff previously lost by a priest and they rechristened the island “La Isla de Santa Cruz.”

In 1810, Mexico declared independence from Spain. It was granted recognition after their victory, in 1821. The Mexican government forcibly removed the Chumash from the island in 1822 and transformed it, for a time, into a penal colony. In 1839, it was granted to Captain Andrés Castillero who became the first of the island’s private owners. It was during this time that sheep and cattle were introduced to the island, which they grazed, decimating in the process the fragile chaparral scrubland in introducing destructive non-natives, many of which actively suppress the germination of seeds by natives.

The US conquered an enormous portion of Mexico, including the Channel Islands, in 1848 and in 1850 California was made a state. Land grants continued to be respected by the new power, however, and Santa Cruz Island remained in the hands of Castillero until 21 June 1857, when ownership passed to William Eustace Barron, a Mexican at the time living in San Francisco. During Castillero’s stewardship, an English physician named James B. Shaw was allowed to build a ranch home on the island from which he began raising Merino sheep for wool. By 1864, there were some 24,000 sheep roaming the island.

Scorpion Ranch today

Investors from San Francisco formed the Santa Cruz Island Company in 1869 and assumed control of the island. Around 1880, company member Justinian Claire acquired sole ownership of the island. Under the Frenchman’s stewardship, the island was used to raise sheep, cattle, and over a dozen types of wine (Zinfindel was most prevalent). The ranch produced chickens, vegetables, fruits (cherry, citrus, fig, and pear), nuts (almonds and walnuts), and cheese, as well, used to feed blacksmiths, cobblers, and other mostly French and Italian ranch workers. Specialized satellite ranches with were developed and managed by various superintendents for the company. Scorpion Ranch produced hay and other grains and provided pasture lands. Tractors were brought to the island in 1918. Prohibition was launched in 1919, killing Ventura County’s largest wine operation, but the ranches continued, with the focus shifting almost entirely to sheep production in the east, and cattle everywhere else.

Rusting farm equipment at Scorpion Ranch

After the death of Claire in 1897, his children had fought one another over control of the island. Litigation between his offspring finally ended in 1932, the court declared the island should be partitioned. Aglae S. Capuccio and Edmund A. Rossi’s parcels on the east end of the island were merged by Claire’s granddaughter, Maria Rossi Gherini, and her husband, Ambrose, in 1932. The rest of the island remained divided between Arthur J., Delphine A., Fred F., and Helene A. Claire until 1937 when they all sold their parcels to rancher Edwin Stanton. The Stanton parcel was sold to the Nature Conservancy in 1978. In 1979, Congressman Robert J. Lagomarsino introduced a bill to create the Channel Islands National Park, which was signed by President Jimmy Carter on 5 March 1980. It wasn’t until 1997, however, that the National Park Service acquired full ownership from the Gherini family of the island’s east end. In 2000, the Nature Conservancy donated 8,500 acres (3,440 hectares) to the National Park Service, extending park management from about 10% of the island to 25%.

Decades of ranching and environmental devastation ravaged the island’s native wildlife. In the 1930s, Brown pelicans abandoned the island for offshore rocks, a few of which I spied from the beach. Bald Eagles and peregrine falcons were driven into local extinction in the 1950s by DDT. With them gone, smaller Golden Eagles migrated from the mainland and nearly drove the tiny Channel Island Fox into extinction by preying on them and feral pigs, which along with adult pigs continued to decimate the landscape and archaeological site. Peregrine falcons were introduced in 1983. In 1984, Scorpion Ranch was leased to a hunting organization to rid the island of pigs. The last of the sheep were rounded up and relocated in 1999. In 2002, Island foxes were re-introduced. Bald eagles were reintroduced in 2002 and began hatching on the island, once again, in 2006. The last of the Golden Eagles were relocated in Northern California in 2007. That same year, the last of the feral pigs were killed.

Signs of winter rains; Anacapa on the horizon

Flooding in the El Niño of 1997-1998 destroyed and damaged much of Scorpion Ranch, located as it is at the delta of a seasonal river. A campground, trails, and archeological sites were also affected. After the removal of native animals, efforts to re-establish native plants, which reduce erosion and otherwise support the native ecosystem, got underway. At the same time, work is being done to rid the island of non-natives like wild mustard, fennel, and range grasses. Some non-natives, mainly in the ranch areas, are preserved for their historical importance including eucalyptus, olive, pepper, and Monterey cypress trees. Native or not, when it’s hot and sunny you won’t mind the shade. In 2003, Marine Protected Areas were established around the park islands to preserve and restore marine populations.

A grove of Monterey Cypress known as “Delphine’s Grove”

There are archaeological sites from various periods of the island’s history. There are the oldest shell middens in the Americas. From the ranch era, there are barns, a chapel, homes, and quite a few other buildings and structures scattered here and there. There are three airstrips: Unknown Airstrip, Christy Airstrip, and Santa Cruz Island Airport although most people arrive via boats operated by Island Packers Cruises.

An old oil well, still smelling very strongly of it

Island Packers has been the primary transport agency to the northern Channel Islands since its launch in 1968 and I was impressed with the operation although there were a few issues on which I wasn’t clear before going to the island. Mainly, the website states that no single item may way more than 45 pounds (20 kilograms) and even though my bag only weighed about 20 pounds, I was worried that not being able to fit my tent inside would be an issue. It proved not to be, as there is apparently no limit to how many items one may bring — as long as they can fit under the deck. Of course, once on the island, you’ll want to make sure that you’re able to transport them to and from the campsite. Had I known that beforehand, however, I might’ve brought a second bag with some canned beer or a pouch of wine. Speaking of which, the beer selection on the boat was good and included canned macrobrews and Island Brewing Company on tap — although, on the way out to the island, rough seas lead me to opt for the canned option. The way back was smooth enough for a draught.

Many day visitors seem to content themselves by swimming at the beach or renting kayaks and snorkeling equipment from the concessionaire. Given the heat wave, I’d have loved to have gone snorkeling or swimming, but I was nursing a swollen, dressed wound from a cat attack (long story) and was advised to stay out of the ocean. There’s also a visitor’s center and one can poke around some of the old Scorpion Ranch structures and learn a thing or two.

An old storage cave now used by roosting bats

By the way, other than snorkeling and kayaking equipment, the concessionaire is allowed to sell very little, including no food and drink. There’s running water at Scorpion Ranch’s campgrounds but anything else you might want to drink or eat you must bring yourself — and pack out the waste of. No campfires are allowed (you can pack a small stove) and storage containers are provided in which to prevent mice, foxes, and ravens from absconding with your food — which they will if left unattended — as some of our neighbors found when ravens flew off with their Hawaiian Sweet Rolls and boiled peanuts.

The assembled campers in our group had originally planned to map some of the trails for an open source competitor to Google Maps called Mapillary but the first night was extremely windy and hot… almost too hot to think or, it turned out later, to sleep. Additionally, there were issues with the 360 cameras and also it was just so exhaustingly hot and uncomfortably dusty, that we decided to relax as best we could after an evening hike to Potato Harbor. The next day was hot again and we relocated to a nearby group campground blessed with beautiful scenery, ample shade, eucalyptus-scented breezes, and playful Santa Cruz Island Fox kits. The final day I spent most of my morning just watching foxes, relaxing under trees, and relaxing on the beach in solitude except for when my peace was briefly disturbed by a young woman sneaking a cigarette away from her family.

Two kits playing at the campsite

One of the primary attractions for most visitors, I assume, are the hiking trails. Before visiting I was disappointed to learn that 75% of the island is off-limits to visitors not invited by the Native Conservancy but after three days I felt as if I’d barely scratched the surface. The terrain was much more rugged and dramatic than I’d imagined — and hot. It was about 40°C when we disembarked and we cut a hike to Smuggler’s Cove short. Maybe next time I’ll camp at Del Norte Camp, near Prisoner’s Harbor. Ultimately I was kind of glad that so much of the island is inaccessible to most — it adds a bit of mystery.

I still want to visit all of the Channel Islands. As of 2018, San Clemente and San Nicholas are administered by the Navy and therefore the public is restricted from visiting them. Anacapa is a noisy island, foghorns and flocks of gulls compete with one another in an earsplitting contest. There’s limited transportation service to remote Santa Barbara Island no goods or services, which sounds quite daunting for someone not particularly adept at planning ahead. San Miguel Island sounds very mysterious, with its thick fog, terrific wind, and caliche forest. Santa Rosa Island is also renowned for its scenery — and, like most of the islands, is said to be an “exercise in preparation and self-reliance.” In the end, I might just return to Catalina or Santa Cruz albeit ideally when it’s a bit wetter, greener, and cooler.

Eric Brightwell is an adventurer, writer, rambler, explorer, cartographer, and guerrilla gardener who is always seeking paid writing, speaking, traveling, and art opportunities. He is not interested in generating advertorials, cranking out clickbait, or laboring away in a listicle mill “for exposure.”

Brightwell has written for Angels Walk LA, Amoeblog, Boom: A Journal of California, diaCRITICS, Hidden Los Angeles, and KCET Departures. His art has been featured by the American Institute of Architects, the Architecture & Design Museum, the Craft & Folk Art Museum, Form Follows Function, Los Angeles County Store, the book Sidewalking, Skid Row Housing Trust, and 1650 Gallery. Brightwell has been featured as subject in The Los Angeles Times, Huffington Post, Los Angeles Magazine, LAist, CurbedLA, Eastsider LA, Boing Boing, Los Angeles, I’m Yours, and on Notebook on Cities and Culture. He has been a guest speaker on KCRW‘s Which Way, LA? and at Emerson College. Art prints of Brightwell’s maps are available from 1650 Gallery. He is currently writing a book about Los Angeles and you can follow him on Ameba, Facebook, Goodreads, Instagram, Mubi, Twitter, and Weibo.

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Source: https://ericbrightwell.com/2018/08/01/california-fools-gold-exploring-santa-cruz-island/

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