Five islands off the Southern California coast that were never connected to the mainland; everything living on them swam, flew, floated or was carried. The result is a park routinely called the Galapagos of North America, home to the oldest securely dated human remains on the continent and a fox the size of a housecat.
Channel Islands is one of 63 national parks in ParkStamp, each with original stamp designs drawn in the WPA poster tradition. Every design illustrates a specific real place (or, in one case here, a specific real animal).
Recording the visit is free. Check in from the islands, log a crossing you made years ago, or let the app read the dates and locations from photos already on your phone.
The isolation is total and always was. Even at the bottom of the last ice age, when sea level dropped enough to fuse the four northern islands into one big island geologists call Santarosae, a deep channel still separated it from the mainland. Nothing ever walked here. Every plant and animal arrived by sea or air, and the castaways evolved in isolation into what the park counts as about 145 species found nowhere else on Earth.
People crossed that channel astonishingly early. Human leg bones eroding out of Arlington Canyon on Santa Rosa Island, known as Arlington Springs Man, date to roughly 13,000 years ago, among the oldest securely dated human remains in the Americas. Since the island was never walkable from shore, whoever it was arrived by boat, which makes these bones a standing argument for a coastal, seafaring route into the New World.
The Chumash built a maritime economy on them. Island villages ran on the tomol, a plank canoe sewn together and sealed with tar, used to trade across the channel. The islands were also the mint: shell beads manufactured there by the million circulated as currency across a wide swath of southern California. Chumash communities on the mainland still build tomols and make the crossing.
The park came in two installments. Franklin Roosevelt made tiny Anacapa and Santa Barbara islands a national monument in 1938; the national park of March 5, 1980 added San Miguel, Santa Rosa and big Santa Cruz, plus a mile of ocean around each island. The larger islands spent more than a century as sheep and cattle ranches first, and most of Santa Cruz is owned and managed by The Nature Conservancy in partnership with the park. Despite sitting within sight of several million people, the islands remain among the least visited national parks. The moat still works.
The island fox nearly vanished in a decade, then set a record coming back. Each of six islands has its own subspecies of this housecat-sized descendant of the mainland gray fox. In the 1990s the northern-island populations collapsed: DDT had wiped out the fish-eating bald eagles, golden eagles moved into the vacancy, and golden eagles eat foxes. Some islands were down to a few dozen animals. Captive breeding, eagle relocation and bald eagle reintroduction reversed it, and in 2016 three subspecies came off the endangered list in what was announced as the fastest recovery of any listed mammal in US history.
The islands once dwarfed mammoths too. Columbian mammoths swam out during low-sea-level periods (elephants are strong swimmers), and their marooned descendants shrank over generations into pygmy mammoths standing only five or six feet at the shoulder. In 1994 researchers on Santa Rosa excavated a nearly complete skeleton, one of the best pygmy mammoth finds anywhere.
One bird, one island. The island scrub-jay lives on Santa Cruz Island and nowhere else: bigger, bluer and heavier-billed than its mainland cousin, with one of the smallest ranges of any bird in North America. For a birder it is the rare species you cannot see without buying a boat ticket.
The richest habitat is below the waterline. The park boundary extends a nautical mile out, taking in giant kelp forests that shelter garibaldi, sheephead, sea lions and harbor seals. The surrounding channel sits on a cold-water upwelling that loads it with krill, and in summer it is one of the most reliable places on Earth to encounter blue whales.
A forty-foot arch of volcanic rock standing in the sea off the east end of Anacapa, near the 1932 light station, the last permanent lighthouse built on the West Coast. It is the first thing the boat shows you and the image on half the park's literature. The obvious pick if the crossing itself is what you remember.
One of the largest sea caves on Earth, cut into the volcanic cliffs of Santa Cruz Island: roughly a quarter mile deep, with an entrance around 160 feet high, named for the lichens and mineral stains coloring its walls. It is enterable only by boat or kayak, and sea lions haul out in the dark interior. A stamp for people who went in.
The park's animal, not a place: a fox the size of a housecat, six islands with six subspecies, descended from mainland gray foxes that reached the islands thousands of years ago. Nearly lost in the 1990s, recovered by 2016 in record time. Pick it if one trotted through your campground like it owned the place; on Santa Cruz, one probably did.
Open ParkStamp inside the park boundary and check in. The app confirms you are actually there and logs the date.
Already been? Pick the date yourself. Trips from decades ago count the same as last weekend.
Let ParkStamp read the dates and locations off photos already on your phone. Most people find parks they had forgotten.