THE EVER-CHANGING ISLAND 189 



Arid appearing, desolate, wind-swept, Anacapa is 

 withal a valuable possession to its owner, and one of 

 the picturesque islands of the entire group. Its strange 

 rocks, moving, passing, interminghng, made a strong 

 impression on my m.ind, an impression of warring 

 nature, conflicts of wind and rock, of seas eating into 

 its very vitals, of caves that undermine it, and of 

 the old rock fighting for its very life against the sea. 

 Yet the last day I rowed along its shores the sea was a 

 disk of steel, the wind was soft as velvet, and the 

 deep blue water played in musical rhythm on its sands 

 and rocks. 



In going north to Anacapa from Santa Catalina, 

 though the distance is only one hundred miles or so, 

 the change is marked. The winds are heavier in sum- 

 mer; it is cooler; and the fog banks, in grim and black 

 menacing shapes, come in like night, encompassing 

 all things. 



In summer the mornings up to ten o'clock are usually 

 calm, the so called trade wind, which is confined to 

 about fifty miles offshore, begins to blov>^, and by one 

 o'clock, or two, it is often blovving stiff and heav}^ from 

 the west, dying away at night. The island is sur- 

 rounded by deep water. There are no shoals, and a 

 deep channel four miles wide separates the v/est end 

 of Anacapa from the east end of Santa Cruz. The 

 islands in the Santa Barbara Channel are so in line, 

 forming a chain about fifty-five miles long, west by 

 south, that the conclusion is irresistible that they once 

 formed a sierra, and are the remains of a submerged 

 coast range. 



Anacapa is owned by sheepmen of San Buenaven- 

 tura, and occupied continuously as a sheep ranch, but 



