A Day Trip to Central Santa Cruz Island: Preparedness, Wildlife Encounters, and Painted Cave Wonders
Join us for wildlife stories, field notes, and plenty of coastal surprises - from sea lions at the marina to hidden tide pools and a shop full of nature-inspired art.
Santa Cruz Island, Channel Islands of California, USA // September 10th, 2025
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Locations
📍 Island Packers, Ventura Departure — 1691 Spinnaker Dr #105B, Ventura, CA 93001
The trusted gateway to the Channel Islands since 1968. Family-owned and mission-aligned, Island Packers makes it possible to cross into one of California’s last true wildernesses. Departures leave from Ventura and Channel Islands Harbor.
📍 Painted Cave — Santa Cruz Island (see all locations on map below!)
One of the most breathtaking natural features of the Channel Islands: a sea cave 1,227 feet deep, with an entrance nearly 160 feet high and 100 feet wide. It’s the largest sea cave in California, likely the longest in North America, and ranks as the fourth-largest sea cave in the world by length.
📍 Prisoner’s Harbor — Santa Cruz Island
Historic and rugged. One of the only landing sites on Santa Cruz Island. Half managed by the National Park Service, half by The Nature Conservancy. Facilities include shaded picnic tables and pit toilets - but the real draw is the feeling of remoteness, where island foxes and butterflies cross your path.
📍 Profile Point — Santa Cruz Island
A rock formation that resembles a human face, watching the sea. You’ll pass it just before reaching Painted Cave.
📍 Tinkers Cove — Santa Cruz Island
A tucked-away cove with Hollywood roots, used as a filming location in the 1920s Peter Pan silent film.
📍 Platform Gilda — Offshore, north of Santa Cruz Island
An active oil platform, still operated by DCOR. Also serves as an unexpected wildlife perch - pelicans, sea lions, and schools of fish weaving through the steel legs below.
📍 Diablo Point & Diablo Anchorage — Santa Cruz Island
Craggy volcanic cliffs drop into cobalt water, Diablo Point is dramatic and fast-moving as you pass. The anchorage beside it is used for boat stops and sometimes shelter, but not for landings.
📍 Arch Rock — Santa Cruz Island
Not just one, but a trio of natural arches carved by wind and sea. A known favorite for photographers and seabirds alike.
📍 Toppers Pizza (Channel Islands Harbor) — 2701 Peninsula Rd, Oxnard, CA 93035
Pizza with a view. Spacious indoor seating, breezy patio tables, and everything from pepperoni classics to salad bar breaks. It’s the kind of place that feels exactly right after a day on the water. Casual, reliable, and full of other people who probably just got off a boat too. (The buffalo chicken pizza is our favorite!)
Prisoner’s Harbor & Painted Cave Excursion with Island Packers
Packing & Preparedness
There’s no such thing as “just in case” packing for the Channel Islands. Every ounce counts, and every choice is a trade-off between comfort, preparedness, and how much you want to haul up a ladder in front of strangers. I start with the camera: Sony α6700. The 70–350mm lives on the body for ninety percent of the day. The Sigma 18–50mm reminds me landscapes are still a thing. The 200–600mm, affectionately called “the bazooka,” gets packed when I’m feeling ambitious or when Mike agrees to carry it. He agreed.
Pack: Gregory Maya 15L. Big enough for gear and snacks. Small enough to thread through elbows and daypacks without apologizing every two steps. Water shoes that actually stay on, my gorgeous Reef Water Vistas I picked up in Huntington Beach last summer. Therm-a-Rest Z seat (worth it, every minute, and recommended it to no less than a dozen people on board). Windbreaker. Hat with a strap because the wind has opinions. Sunscreen. Sunglasses. Rechargeable hand warmers. Snacks, both nutritious and delicious. Battery pack. Quick-dry towel. A change tarp that will try to fly away the moment you need it. Water for the day. More water than that.
At the top of this post you’ll find a custom Google My Map with our route, wildlife sightings, and each stop from Prisoner’s Harbor to Painted Cave and back. It’s the only way I know to show how much sea and story a single day can hold.
The Pull of the Channel Islands
From Hollywood Beach the islands look close enough to touch, then drift away again as the haze thickens. Some nights they are a clean cutout on the horizon. Other nights they sink into the sky and you’re not sure they were ever there. I never knew exactly which island I was looking at. It didn’t matter. The sight of them at sunset made me feel unreasonably lucky. To live here. To stand on sand and watch a wilderness glow across the channel. To be able to go.
When I first moved to California, I kept a quiet list of “someday” trips. Catalina was on it. Busy life in Los Angeles swallowed that plan whole, but moving to the Channel Islands Harbor erased the excuses. The islands became part of my daily backdrop and also a promise I kept making to myself: stop staring, start going.
While working on a grant proposal, I found myself pulled deeper into the story of these islands. What started as casual curiosity turned into something closer to obsession. I kept thinking about Point Bennett on San Miguel, a place I hope to see someday. Santa Cruz felt like the first page of that story. It also happened to be the easiest trip to book, schedule-wise, which is sometimes how these things actually get decided.
Island Packers: From Check-In to Open Water
The morning of the trip, I was jittery. Island Packers made the process easy, but my brain still found things to fixate on. Would the boat feel chaotic? Would I embarrass myself on the ladder? Had I packed enough snacks, or would I end up hungry and sunburned?
Island Packers ran a tight, but kind, ship. Check-in moved quickly. The NPS boot brush might have looked like a formality, but it was the first reminder that these islands were fragile, not just another backyard to wander through. We claimed the top starboard seats, set down our Therm-a-Rest cushions, and settled in.
The boat was full but not overwhelming. The bathrooms on board were fine, better than I expected. (The pit toilets at Prisoner’s Harbor were another story entirely, but more on that later - Michael went in as the brave one. I decided I could wait.) We were on the Islander, a 65-foot catamaran, sturdy and steady as it pushed us out into the channel.
The marine layer was thick, the air grey and a little humid, and everyone was just getting settled into their corners of the boat. People fussed with jackets, shifted packs around, opened snacks too early. The anticipation was quiet but obvious - quick glances toward the horizon, hands already hovering near cameras.
The Long Line to These Shores
Island Packers has been the way out to the Channel Islands since 1968. Started by Bill and Lil Connally and their kids, the company began by running small trips to Anacapa. Over the decades it grew into the family-run concessionaire that carries thousands of visitors each year to every island in the park. More than a million people have crossed the channel with them, chasing dolphins, sea caves, and stories like mine.
But the human story of crossing these waters goes back far longer. Archaeological evidence shows that Santa Cruz was the heart of island Chumash life - home to the largest population in the Channel Islands, with villages thriving here for at least 9,000 years. Human presence on the northern islands as a whole reaches back more than 13,000. The island Chumash built tomols (redwood plank canoes sealed with pine pitch and asphaltum) strong enough to cross open water. They used them for trade, ceremony, and daily living.
Santa Cruz, called Limuw, was the center of that world. Shell beads carved and drilled here became currency, traded across the coast. Villages dotted the island, from sheltered anchorages to ridge tops.
One of the Chumash teachings passed down from Limuw, or Santa Cruz Island, is the Rainbow Bridge story. In it, Hutash (Earth Mother) created the first people on the island from the seeds of a magical plant. When the island became crowded, she built a rainbow bridge to the mainland. Some who crossed grew dizzy and fell into the waters, where she transformed them into dolphins. The Chumash still speak of dolphins as their ocean kin.
What humbles me most is knowing how many generations have looked out at these waters before me, carrying their own stories. We aren’t the first to marvel at these cliffs or the glow of sunset on the horizon. We’re just the latest in a line that reaches back thousands of years.
Filmed while swimming off Prisoner’s Harbor. Island Packers’ Islander, a 65-foot catamaran, waiting offshore in clear seventy-degree water.
Wildlife on the Ride Out
No sooner had we cleared the harbor than the channel began to show itself. The ride out became its own moving aquarium. The first thrill belonged to dolphins. At first just a few, then hundreds - common dolphins and bottlenose, adults and calves mixed in. They stayed with us for more than ten minutes, surfing the bow and skipping through the waves like stones. Pods stretched as far as the eye could follow. Some leapt in pairs, some in threes, others in full waves of bodies racing the boat. It was a magical moment, something I’d only experienced before in media, and something that will stick with me for the rest of my life.
I kept hesitating between observing and photographing. Every time I raised the camera I worried I was missing the moment with my own eyes. Every time I lowered it, something even better happened and I cursed myself for not being ready.
Whale Encounters in the Channel
On the ride out the captain called a whale at our 12 o’clock a minke. It surfaced briefly, gone before I could even raise my camera.
Not long after, another whale surfaced at our 3 o’clock, and this one felt different. Its back seemed to roll on and on before the dorsal finally appeared. I caught a burst of photos, but I’m still not sure what it was. The captain didn’t call this one out, so if you know your whales and have a good guess, I’d love your input - drop a comment or reach out. One of those frames even caught the whale surfacing with Platform Gilda in the backdrop, wild ocean life and industry crossing paths in the same breath.
There were also plenty of spouts in the distance, proof we were surrounded by more whales than we could ever count. Either way, I’m grateful for the sightings. They made the whole channel feel alive. Even the oil rigs looked transformed, their industrial skeletons coated with sea lions and cormorants, industry slowly turned reef.
Before heading to Painted Cave, we made a quick stop at Prisoner’s Harbor to drop off part of the group. We waved goodbye, knowing we’d be back later for our own time on the island. Then the captain pointed us west, deeper along the coast of Santa Cruz, and the ride turned quiet with only the cave on everyone’s mind.
Painted Cave: A Cathedral in the Cliffs
From the water, Painted Cave first looked like nothing more than a shadow cut into the cliffs. But as the captain eased the boat closer, the shadow lifted, and the cave swallowed us whole.
Inside, rock walls glowed with unexpected color - pinks, greens, reds, and browns in stunning layers. The water turned a deep, almost inky turquoise. Sound bounced in strange ways, every splash echoing.
It was incredible, but also unsettling. At the cave entrance, a deceased sea lion floated on the surface. It was on my side of the boat, impossible to ignore. The mood shifted instantly. Painted Cave was still beautiful, but now it carried weight - a reminder that the wild doesn’t soften its edges for anyone.
I scanned for other life and found just one ochre sea star clinging to the wall near the waterline. Small, bright, alone. Then the captain spun us back out into the sun and the dark of the cave became a memory.
The Coastline: Profile to Arch
The ride along Santa Cruz’s coast felt like flipping through a picture book with the pages moving too fast.
Profile Point looked exactly like its name, a rock face jutting out as if keeping watch over the channel. Two smaller coves hid caves of their own, shadows that hinted at bigger secrets. Arch Rock appeared suddenly, framing the sky and sea. Nearby, a large rock coated in layers of guano, with snorkelers bobbing in the turquoise water beneath it.
Names tumbled one after another: Lady’s Harbor, Diablo Anchorage, Fry’s, Platt’s, Twin Harbors, Pelican Bay. Then Tinker’s Cove - I’d researched it beforehand and found out it was used in the 1920s film Peter Pan. The thought of Hollywood crews working in such a rugged spot stuck with me as we passed. Each cove felt like it deserved a whole day. We had seconds.
Harbor Seals in Sunlight
Then came the surprise I didn’t know to hope for.
We rounded near a quiet cove and the water flashed bright turquoise over near rocks. The boat slowed, and suddenly there they were - harbor seals, six of them in total.
A pair rested close together, four more were scattered across separate rocks - each in its own patch of warmth. Most were dark and spotted, but one was cream-colored and luminous. They barely moved, watching us with heavy-lidded patience.
As we drifted past, a few lifted their heads, decided we weren’t worth the effort, and dropped back into their naps. Our guide mentioned it was unusual to see harbor seals in the area. That only made the moment feel more like a gift.
Landing on the Island
When we finally stepped onto the dock at Prisoner’s Harbor - this time for our own stop - I skipped the infamous pit toilets. Michael went in as the brave one; I was happy to wait.
Ranger Ash gathered us for orientation, reminding everyone of the basics: pack in, pack out, and take nothing. Most importantly, they stressed caution - help takes much longer to reach the island than it does for visitors to arrive, and accidents can happen. After the briefing, most people shouldered packs and disappeared onto the Pelican Bay trail. A few set up picnics in the shade.
Prisoner’s Harbor: A Name with a Story
Prisoner’s Harbor isn’t just a pretty name on the map. In 1830, the Mexican government tried to use Santa Cruz Island as a penal colony. A ship called the Maria Ester brought around 80 convicts up from Acapulco, only to be turned away at San Diego and Santa Barbara. Eventually, about 30 of the men were left on Santa Cruz with some supplies. They built crude shelters, but a fire later destroyed their camp. Desperate, they cobbled together rafts and somehow made it across the channel to Carpinteria, where they were rounded up and eventually (and allegedly) absorbed into mainland society.
It’s a bizarre footnote in California history, the Channel Islands almost became a kind of Botany Bay. Today the only reminder is the harbor’s name, but stepping off the boat there, you can still feel how remote it must have seemed.
Swimming off the rocky shore at Prisoner’s Harbor. The old dock stretching right, sailboats on the horizon left, and clear water all around.
A Change of Plans
I had planned to spend the afternoon photographing the endemic island fox and the island scrub-jay, both only found on Santa Cruz. But the captain told us the conditions were almost unheard of: clear skies, calm seas, and seventy degree water at Prisoner’s Harbor. We immediately scrapped the plan. Hiking and birding could wait for another trip. This was a swimming day.
The water was crystal clear and cool, with colored stones visible underfoot and kelp forests swaying farther out. Because this was a marine protected area, nothing had been taken - shells, rocks, and seaweed were still where they belonged. I pulled on my Reef Vistas and stepped carefully until the water wrapped me in a shock of cold that quickly turned perfect. (There are no lifeguards here, just a heads up - swim only if you’re confident and comfortable in the ocean.)
We swam for hours, climbing out to eat green grapes and carrots, then plunging back in again. At one point a California Sister butterfly landed in front of us on the rocks. I almost forgot to lift my camera, too busy watching its wings flicker orange, blue, and black.
Changing under the tarp afterward was a circus act - the wind had opinions, and the tarp kept trying to leave the island without us. We laughed through it. Sometimes the imperfect moments stick the hardest.
We remained the only swimmers the entire afternoon. Everyone else chose hiking boots or picnic blankets. I didn’t regret it for a second.
The Ride Back
By 4:15 we were back in line at the dock. At 4:30 we settled into a rear bench at the stern, ocean spray misting us now and then. It was colder than the ride out, but hand warmers helped.
The channel was alive again: humpbacks showing flukes, sea lions scattered below pelicans and shorebirds. Spouts rose in the distance, too many to count - reminders that even when you couldn’t see the whales themselves, you were in their company. Massive ships loomed offshore. The oil rigs we’d passed that morning glowed differently in the evening light, their industrial bones softened by silhouettes of birds.
We pulled into Ventura Harbor sunburned, exhausted, and happy. Dinner was Toppers Pizza eaten like survivors of a small adventure.
Conservation & Responsibility
From check-in to orientation, the reminders were constant: these islands are fragile. Pack it in, pack it out. Take nothing. Respect the rules.
And it showed. The beaches at Prisoner’s Harbor were spotless, the stones and shells untouched. The wildlife felt unbothered, even curious. It was proof that the rules work when people follow them.
Side note for context: Santa Cruz is a split island. Roughly a quarter is managed by the National Park Service, while the rest belongs to The Nature Conservancy (TNC), one of the largest private landholders dedicated to conservation in California. The NPS side is where most visitors land and hike, but TNC has its own trails, research sites, and restoration projects. Access there is limited (mostly guided trips and special permits) but their work is critical to keeping the island’s habitats healthy. So while you’re picnicking or swimming at Prisoner’s Harbor, you’re standing at the edge of two different caretakers working toward the same goal: keeping Santa Cruz Island wild.
A Personal Note
You might have noticed these posts have gotten a bit more open lately. Salt + Noelle was never meant to be a “talking heads” blog - the real story will always be the wildlife and nature that surround us. But with so much impersonal, AI-generated content out there, I’ve realized the best way to keep this space honest is by letting more of my own perspective show through. You won’t have to scroll through eight paragraphs about my breakfast to get to the good stuff; this is a blend of diary and field notes - an honest record of the people, places, and wildlife that shape life along the coast.
Reflections
What I love about days like this is how they don’t follow your plans. I thought I’d be chasing foxes and scrub-jays with my camera. Instead, I swam in clear water, saw harbor seals hauled out in the sun, and left with a mystery whale still on my memory card.
These islands remind you that nature sets the schedule, not you. They hand you harbor seals when you expect foxes, or calm turquoise water when you brace for wind.
Three words for this trip? Rugged. Turquoise. Serene.
Already counting down the days until the next excursion. So grateful for Island Packers and the way they make these experiences possible. We’ve got a trip to San Miguel booked in October, and I can’t wait to see what that one holds.
Wondering where Whiskers in the Wild is this week?
It’s coming soon, but with prime time to visit the Channel Islands in full swing, I wanted to share this with you first.
We just ordered the 15’ ISLE Megalodon, and we’re so excited. This oversized board is going to change how we document wildlife - giving us a smooth, stable platform for photographing sea lions, paddling out through kelp beds, and quietly drifting alongside the coastlines we love most.
We’ll be using it for future Whiskers in the Wild episodes and other on-the-water stories, so consider this a little preview of what’s to come.
Sea lion season isn’t slowing down anytime soon. 🛶
Gallery: From Launch to Landing
This gallery follows the day in order, starting with a few quick phone snaps at the dock and ending offshore before returning to the quiet calm of the Island Packers dock.
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