I stood at the bow of a boat with my back to the continent and my face to a stiff wind. In the stern lay three lumpy duffels crammed with food, snorkels, fins, an inflatable stand-up paddleboard, and backpacking gear—just what I’d need for a week on a deserted island. Ten minutes ago I’d left the clamor of civilization behind when I boarded an Island Packers ferry in Ventura, California, a town about 25 miles south of Santa Barbara. In an hour I’d be at Scorpion Bay on Santa Cruz Island, the largest of five that make up Channel Islands National Park. 

These islands—which seem to rise from the sea like a string of floating mountains—have never been part of the mainland. During the last ice age they were only five miles from shore, allowing mammals to raft there on debris and to then evolve in a relatively protected arena. Today the islands are home to 150 species found nowhere else on Earth. They’re also home to sea caves, rugged canyons, windy peaks, pristine beaches, and kelp forests. For the cost of a reasonably priced boat ticket (fees range from $59 to $79), a visitor can enjoy a rare slice of Southern California wilderness, the state’s own version of the Galapagos Islands.

The Nature Conservancy owns the western three-quarters of Santa Cruz Island, the largest of the islands, which it manages in collaboration with the National Park Service. To explore the Nature Conservancy land, a visitor needs to volunteer with the group, or travel an additional half hour to Prisoner’s Bay. From there, an Island Packers guide will lead hikers four miles to Pelican Bay, where a fresh spring tumbles down to a rocky sheltered cove. An experienced backpacker can also head east to the Del Norte camp and return to Scorpion Bay via 15 miles of rugged trail.

Most visitors choose to explore the NPS-maintained area around Scorpion Bay. A primitive campground less than a mile away from the landing makes a great base for hiking to panoramic vistas or secluded canyons, paddling colorful basaltic sea caves, or snorkeling kelp forests teeming with psychedelic fish. Visitors need to haul all their gear; the only cars on the island are service vehicles. A wide dirt track leads past a restored ranch house, through groves of gnarled eucalyptus trees to the 31 sites, each equipped with a picnic table and a metal food storage box. 

“The Santa Cruz Island pygmy fox is the cutest critter you may ever see,” a Channel Islands National Park ranger explained during our on-shore orientation. “They will use their cuteness against you. Don’t feed them. Don’t pet them. They’re wild animals. Help them stay wild by storing your food in the metal boxes we provide.”

One of the smallest canines in the world, the Channel Islands fox is the only carnivore unique to California and the largest terrestrial mammal on the Channel Islands. It resembles its mainland cousin the gray fox, except it’s the size of a housecat. Unlike most foxes, it’s active during the day since it has no natural predators. It’s the rarest fox species in the world. “I hope we get to see one!” my friend Dianne squealed as we gathered our gear and started walking.

We saw two dozen before we reached our campsite. They were slinking among the picnic tables, climbing a fig tree, trotting across the path, lurking in the chaparral. They tried to raid our food box if we left the door open, even when we were sitting less than two feet away. We started shouting to discourage them whenever they approached. By suppertime, California’s most adorable miniature mega-fauna, the mythical creature we’d been so eager to see, had become the cutest pest in the West. 

As recently as 20 years ago, there were fewer than 200 island pygmy foxes left on the planet. Restoration efforts by NPS and the Nature Conservancy inadvertently took these animals to the brink of extinction—and then another restoration campaign was necessary to bring them back. In the 1990s, the Nature Conservancy and the Feds launched an attempt to reestablish native vegetation by removing invasive mammals. Feral sheep, remnants of the ranching era, were gathered by trained dogs and led onto boats. Thousands of feral pigs were killed in a controversial military-style offensive orchestrated by New Zealanders in helicopters. And then, strangely, the foxes started to disappear.

A decades-old ecological disturbance was the culprit. Bald eagles were once the dominant bird on the Channel Islands, until DDT decimated their numbers. Larger golden eagles moved into the vacated ecological niche. Unlike bald eagles, which prey on fish, golden eagles hunt land animals. The eagles’ preferred diet was lambs and piglets, but once the feral species were removed, the golden eagles turned their attention to the defenseless pygmy foxes. So NPS and the Nature Conservancy began aggressive efforts to restore the foxes. They started a captive-breeding program, captured golden eagles for relocation to the mainland, and reintroduced bald eagle chicks to the islands. Bald eagles have returned, driving out the golden eagles. Today over 2,000 pygmy foxes roam the islands. 

The abundance of pygmy foxes signals the return of an intact ecosystem, providing a glimpse into the wild past of coastal California. If you’ve ever wondered what kind of paradise Southern California was before land grabbers, consumers and concrete, the answer lies just 18 miles offshore. 

 This article has been modified since its original publication.