Island Scrub-Jay makes up for seasickness!  We arrived at Ventura Harbour to blue skies, no wind and calm water, what a great day for a boat trip across to the Channel Islands way out in the Pacific.  As we motored out of the glasslike waters of the harbour, our birding began with Clark’s, Western and Eared Grebes and near the mouth of the harbour, a pair of Black Oystercatchers shared a beach with Black and Ruddy Turnstones.  It was all going so well.  Great birds, great weather, great anticipation.  Then we rounded the harbour wall and the horror began.  We were standing at the front on the upper deck right next to the bridge.  It wasn’t a good omen when we saw the captain’s face change as he consulted with the other crew members about the state of the ocean ahead.  No sooner had we cleared the shelter of the harbour than the huge swell began.  The boat pitched and tossed at an alarming angle.  Crew members scrambled to remove people from the front of the boat where they were likely to be swept overboard and issued dire warnings that everyone must stay seated and hang on with both hands at all times.  From our position at the front of the boat, we could see what was coming and it didn’t look good.  The prow of the boat would rise up metres into the air as we rode up on the roller only to come crashing down and be covered by a wall of water – a white-knuckle ride, and we had two hours of this to survive.  Birding was near impossible: not only were we too scared to look but the mountainous seas prevented us following a bird for more than a few seconds.  But we persevered and did manage to get satisfactory glimpses of a couple of pairs of Xantus’s Murrelets and a small group of Cassin’s Auklets skimming the water.  After just over an hour Alan’s stomach finally gave up the unequal battle and tried to attract more seabirds by chumming over the side (providing food for seabirds).  If anything the waves got even bigger and the screams from people on the decks below became even louder - was this because of the rough sea or the chumming?
Eventually, the boat reached Scorpion Landing on Santa Cruz Island, the first stop of two.  We were scheduled to get off at the second where we’d been told we had a reasonable chance of finding the endemic Island Scrub-Jay.  However, there was no way Alan was staying on this boat a second longer than necessary, so we opted to disembark here instead of going on to Prisoners’ Landing.  Staggering ashore, it was great to feel terra firma under our feet, even if it did still seem to be rolling and pitching under us.  We sat down in the sun and waited for the internal churning to lessen.  We were very disappointed to have missed the jay but very relieved to be off that horrendous boat.Ruth wandered off to explore while Alan tried to recover a little.  She found an information leaflet suggesting a trail into the hinterland that may possibly produce the jay so we set off at a very slow pace and hiked inland up a narrow dry canyon.  The wind was incredibly strong as it funnelled down the canyon so few birds were in evidence, Loggerhead Shrike being the only notable species.  But the air was still blue as Alan swore never, EVER to get on a boat again, apart from the awful spectre of the return journey in just a few hours’ time!  We found a vantage point overlooking a good chunk of the canyon and sat down to scan the area.  Over an hour passed with only a Red-tailed Hawk to show for our efforts.  With his seasickness now abated, Alan’s scanning became more intense, when suddenly a bird appeared on top of a low bush, and there it was, Island Scrub-Jay!  Luckily the bird liked this perch and stayed in full view for several minutes allowing good scope views. What a relief to get this endemic.  It would have been appalling to have gone through all that and missed this very special bird.But by now time was slipping away and we knew we had to return to the quay, a slow plodding march back down the canyon with no enthusiasm for what lay ahead.  If anything the wind was even stronger than when we’d landed and we could see the enormous waves just offshore.  How bad would the journey back be?  Boarding the boat we took up a position at the back in the centre in the hope that this would provide a slightly better ride: survival was more important than birding right now!  This proved a good move as, with the wind behind us, the ride was slightly smoother despite the fact that the waves were much higher than the boat, and towering over us, regularly engulfing us in spray.  Alan spent most of the journey with his eyes tight shut which seemed to help and he managed to keep the few remaining contents of his stomach just where they should be.  Ruth managed to pick up a few birds on the way back, nudging Alan to open his eyes for a split second to record Sooty and Pink-footed Shearwaters.At last we arrived back into the calm waters of Ventura Harbour, never had we been so glad to see dry land!  But the day wasn’t over yet.  Despite our gruelling adventure, more was to come.  We met up with Santa Barbara resident Hugh Ranson, a birding friend of Alan’s from the old days in North Wales.  Alan and Hugh had shared some great birding adventures in the late 70’s and early 80’s and relived some of their epic twitching tales including Belted Kingfisher and Ivory Gull.  Hugh had lined up an evening of owling for us with his local birding pal Peter.  We left Hugh’s house after a lovely home-cooked meal with his family at 9.30pm and climbed steeply out of Santa Barbara into the hills at 4000 feet.  Unfortunately that high wind that had plagued us early was still blowing, not ideal for owling.  But we tried anyway and two-and-a-half hours later, after numerous stops we had a Western Screech Owl on our list.  We enjoyed wonderful views of this diminutive owl right over our heads but sadly our other targets failed to call, let alone show.After an incredibly long and traumatic day, we limped back to our motel to grab a few hours’ sleep before an early start for a full day’s birding with Hugh around Santa Barbara.