Swell Time for Mom on Birthday Boat Trip

If it weren’t for El Nino, I could have given my mother the perfect birthday present: a day of boating, hiking and sun.

Instead, the unusually choppy waves we endured on the two-hour boat trip from Oxnard Harbor to Santa Cruz Island left her green, head hung over the rail.

This was my mother’s first visit to Ventura. She had been planning the trip for months, scheduling a flight from Rochester, N.Y., to sunny California--yeah, right--during February, usually the coldest, dreariest month back home.

She also had planned the trip to fall on her birthday--Valentine’s Day--so we could be together and do something fun.

I thought, “Perfect. I know exactly what we’ll do for fun.”

So I called Island Packers and reserved a spot for us on a cruise to Santa Cruz Island, despite warnings of El Nino-driven storms. I had heard that the Channel Islands were probably Ventura County’s best natural gifts and that not too many people took the time to view these spectacular mountains of the sea.

Even if it rained, I figured, we certainly weren’t going to let a little water deter us.

But after several days of downpours, I seriously wondered about being able to go to the island.

On the day of the trip, however, the sky was clear. When we called Island Packers’ updated answering machine, the recorded voice said the boat was going out, even though the waves I could see from my Pierpont apartment looked treacherously high. We decided to place our faith with Island Packers’ good judgment, though, and we packed lunches, smeared on sun lotion and strapped on our hiking boots, ready for a day of adventure.

At 8:30 a.m., we set sail on a small passenger boat hauling about 30 other hearty souls who were also prepared to brave the windy weather.

And for an hour, things were fine.

In fact, I was having such a good time watching fat brown ducks eat crab straight out of the ocean and chatting with crew members, I barely noticed that my mom had disappeared.

To the back of the boat.

Her head was down and she was heaving up her morning oatmeal.

The acupressure bands she was wearing around her wrist obviously weren’t worth the dollar or two she had paid for them.

I told her to stop looking at the rolling waves and to get some fresh air on her face.

But she was down for the count again.

I scrounged around and bummed an anti-nausea patch from a fellow passenger. I stuck it behind her ear, hoping the drugs would work quickly.

And for a few moments, I thought luck was on her side. She stood up, and just then we glimpsed a majestic Pacific gray whale coming up for air.

“Honey,” she said, “that was great. Now I’m going to lie down.”

And she slept for the rest of the five-hour cruise.

She missed the roly-poly sea lions perched royally on buoys. She missed the dozen black-and-white dolphins that jumped in unison, making arcs in the surf alongside our boat. She missed a close-up view of Scorpion’s Anchorage on Santa Cruz Island, where we tried to disembark--but couldn’t--because of tumultuous waves, the likes of which crew members said they had never seen. She missed it when we passed by Anacapa Island, where we also tried to land--and couldn’t--because of the same choppy surf.

Near the end of the tour, though, I saw this short woman in a pink-and-black jogging suit making her way up front, trying to be a good sport and hang in there, even though she wasn’t feeling well.

“Happy birthday, mom,” I said, trying to catch up with her and point out the second whale of the day spouting water from its blowhole.

But when I turned around to share my good lookout perch on the bow, she wasn’t there.

I could see her, though, head hunched over the back of the boat, leaving a trail of fish food to float out to sea.