“Out front, to the left!” the captain announces over the radio, as we cut through the inky-blue Santa Barbara Marine Channel back to the California mainland. Slowing down, we all jump up as a humpback whale pops like a cork out of the deep, as if to say: “Surprise! Here I am!”
We let out a collective cheer of joy, as the mighty creature pauses, rolls over and gracefully sinks back down. Minutes later, a couple of metres away, we watch as another shoots a jet of water from its blowhole into the air, while a flock of noisy seabirds flap and squawk overhead. And to think that earlier I was chuffed to have seen hundreds of pelicans perched on a harbour wall and a solo manta ray gliding through a kelp forest under a jetty.
Before visiting the Channel Islands – situated an hour off the California coast at its nearest part – I hadn’t realised just how abundant in life they, and the waters around them, would be. “There must be three whales out there,” says the captain, pointing out a small pod of dolphins nearby. It was a feeding frenzy in action. Underneath the sea, I imagine thousands of shoal fish being whipped up by predators into what they call a “bait ball”. I feel like I’m watching a dramatic scene from David Attenborough’s Blue Planet , only in real life. In this world of environmental doom and catastrophe, to witness nature in abundance doing what it’s supposed to do is pure joy.
It was a hot day in early September, and my first exploring the Channel Islands – an eight-island archipelago divided into two groups: the southern Channel Islands where my trip would end; and the northern Channel Islands National Park – one of America’s least visited – where I currently was. This group consists of five islands home to plants and animals found nowhere else on Earth, and often nicknamed the Galapagos of North America. Protected by the 1,470sq mile Santa Barbara Channel Islands National Marine Sanctuary, it’s an isolated paradise for those who love to hike, camp and kayak in peace…