The Island pt. 2

After I had stood, propped up against the front of the boat, watching the islands bob in front of me, I slowly made my way back to the seat next to Deb. The one thing that captured my gaze as I looked out across the water's horizon was these oval, spaceship-like objects that seemed to hover just above the water. On each of them, there appeared to be stiff tentacles that reached out into the air in different directions. It finally dawned on me what I was looking at; they were offshore oil drilling rigs. A thought ran through my mind, 'I now have seen the coal and oil mining of the Appalachians. The mining of the Rocky Mountains that tore down mountains. Now, I have seen the man-made ticks that suck oil from the watery depths of the ocean.’

Suddenly, the engines slowed, and the captain came across the speakers. ‘We are approaching Scorpion Anchorage. If you are day hikers, please exit the boat first onto the pier. Those who are camping, please wait, and we will assist you with unloading your gear. For those of you who are camping in the backcountry, please also remain seated. We will assist these people in disembarking, and then we will take you to Prisoner’s Harbor, where you will disembark. Thanks again.’ With that, we pulled up to the pier and latched on. Slowly, we made our way down the stairs, and before long, we were standing on the wooden platform. It was a long wooden structure that led onto the sandy, rocky shore of the island. 

In the brief reading that I had done leading up to the day, I learned that the island had been a farm where sheep had been raised for both wool and meat. It was a very idyllic location, as it had a natural fence—the ocean—with no predators. The national parks website stated that a species of fox was found only on the island. The website said that the species was a descendant of the gray fox but was only the size of a small house cat. 

At the end of the pier, where a dirt path began, we were greeted by a park ranger who had everyone gather around him. He then proceeded to welcome everyone and explain the few rules that the island had, which were: "whatever you pack in, you pack out," and that there was no running water. After speaking briefly, he concluded, and everyone began dispersing in different directions. Deb and I had decided to use the pit toilets and then begin hiking. Finishing with the bathroom break, we regrouped and started walking. As we walked, there was a strong agreement that if bathrooms were needed again, we would make our own. Soon the two of us were greeted with a farmhouse that had once been home to the shepherds, next to it stood the barn. After reviewing the map and observing the directions everyone was taking, we decided to go right and begin hiking the Cavern Point Trail, which would lead us to the more northeastern part of the island. Hiking, I looked around and took in the vegetation that lined both sides of the dirt path. Before long, we were going along side of the hill, below us, the cove that we had taken the ferry into, and beyond that, the rocky cliffs of another part of the island. I looked ahead and was greeted with a view of the sky, ocean, and the distant island of West Anacapa. As I took in the beauty, I felt a surge of excitement and awe. It felt like Deb and I had travelled to a far-distant, unknown island. In a matter of thirty minutes, everyone had disappeared. We continued to walk, with each step bringing us closer to the edge of the island. There was hardly a cloud in the sky, and despite it being early March, it felt like it was in the low sixties. We stopped every so often to take in the scenery. 

Eventually, we stopped ascending and, after walking a bit, came around a bend. Before us, the island continued. It was easy to tell that we were following along the edge, and thus, looking slightly to the left, one could see the land meeting steep hills that went west as far as the eye could see. We continued, Deb leading the way, and I followed behind. Glancing to the right, movement suddenly caught my eye. Slowing my pace, I looked harder in the direction of where I thought the movement had been. The vegetation reminded me of the high plains desert, with light-colored grass and plants that seemed bleached by the sun's intense rays. Sprinkled in, all that were patches of almost white, as if it were snow that could not melt, but in actuality, was exposed earth. Again, my eyes caught movement, and I looked harder. In an instant, my breathing seemed to stop, and I whispered to Deb to stop. Off the path, roughly twenty yards from us, were two animals the size of large house cats. The coloring of the animals was grey with reddish brown coloring. The tips of their tails were a mixture of tan and blond colors. An incredible feeling of excitement came over me as I realized that I was looking at island foxes. Deb had stopped and began looking in the direction that I was pointing. I was afraid that any quick motions might scare the two foxes. Slowly, I made my way up next to Deb, and we both pulled out our phones to attempt taking pictures. The two foxes continued to search the ground around them, acting as if they were completely oblivious of the two of us having encroached on their space. It was incredible, as I had not seen many wild foxes in nature, and now to be so close. There we stood for a good ten or fifteen minutes, watching the two animals as they searched for food. After the time had slipped away, we slowly began to walk, attempting not to make too much noise as we moved on. I could feel a smile stretching the length of my face; it was simply unbelievable. As we began walking again, we spoke in quiet voices about how we could not believe we had just seen the two foxes.