![]() In 22 years, you have made the journey from charity case to hardened criminal. In the morning, fox poop was waiting in the middle of my picnic table.Ĭongratulations, island fox. As they raced, one of the foxes let out a kind of banshee growl - louder and lower-pitched than I expected from an animal so small. It was one fox chasing another across the mostly empty campground - an echo of those wild horses 22 years earlier, but lower to the ground, with paws instead of hooves. Then around midnight, the sound of a scuffle interrupted my dreams. (The metal food lockers next to the picnic tables, known as bear boxes in Yosemite, are called fox boxes here.)īy 9 p.m., I was in my sleeping bag. It took extreme vigilance to keep the critters from getting my food. I had to chase it around the picnic table three times before it would leave. ![]() There are now thousands on the island, so many that their endangered status was revoked three years ago.Īs I set up camp, one of them jumped onto my gear, the better to sniff for food. A moment later another fox meandered across the path. It was about the size of my cats, but slimmer (4 to 5 pounds) and, to quote Casey Schreiner of Modern Hiker, “ridiculously adorable.” But this time, as I dragged my gear to the campsite, I looked up.Ī fox stood alongside the path, appraising me like a pickpocket choosing its victims. Unique to these islands, the species had been classified as endangered after an NPS estimate in 2000 that fewer than 80 of the animals remained on Santa Cruz. On both visits, just about every ranger and visitor I met was worried about the little island fox. (To finish that job, the park service had hired a team of hunters, whose tactics included sharpshooters in helicopters.) A drought had eased, and the sheep and horses were gone as were most of the pigs. The second time I camped on the island, in 2004, Santa Cruz was greener. One evening as we sat around the campfire (now forbidden), half a dozen wild horses came barreling through the campground. When I first camped on Santa Cruz in 1997, the park service had just finished acquiring the last of the land from the Gherini family, which had operated ranches for decades.įeral sheep and pigs roamed the territory, nibbling at meager patches of grass. I now realize this is true of islands, too. You may have heard it said that you can never step twice into the same river. The rumble of a kayak being dragged across the pebbled beach. The rustle of wind rushing through the eucalyptus trees, a non-native grove that shades the campground. (But thanks to two webcams, you can spy on its growing bald eagle population.)īefore I carted my gear to the Scorpion Canyon Campground, a flat journey of about three-quarters of a mile, I stopped to listen for a minute. Three-quarters of the island, owned and run by the Nature Conservancy, is generally closed to the public. The campground has picnic tables, potable water and pit toilets, but you’ll haul your trash home. More visitors come just for the day, but there are 31 individual and group campsites, all overseen by the NPS, which owns the eastern quarter of Santa Cruz. The only cellphone reception is on the pier, and that is iffy, depending upon your carrier. The island visitor center, which the National Park Service opened in 2009, is housed in an 1883 ranch building between the Scorpion beach and campground. ![]() When the boat draws up to the short metal pier at Scorpion Anchorage, you see rugged cliffs and waves smashing into sea caves wind ripples across hills covered with native and non-native grasses. Not bad for $59 round trip (or $79 if you’re camping). ![]() For a transcendent minute or two, the cold ocean seemed to be boiling with sea creatures, the dolphins eager to sidle as close to the boat as they could get. On the way, you may spot one or two dolphins, or perhaps, as I did, 200 leaping, squeaking, splashing dolphins and two or three kinds of seabirds. No matter when you visit, chances are it will be by a boat ride from Ventura, typically about 75 minutes. 5 for holiday season visitors, but the pier and campground will close again until the project is complete, perhaps by mid-2020. 1, rangers will close the Scorpion Anchorage pier and campground to install a new pier, which is expected to take six months or more.
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