Summer of ‘65 I worked on an albacore boat out of San Pedro. When there were storms we’d shelter on the north side of Santa Rosa Island (which is east of Santa Cruz). It too was privately owned. There had been some kind of military installation, but it was no longer used. We’d see abalone boats there sometimes. They were painted black and red, so they were easy to pick out. We’d take the skiff and row into a little beach—we pretty much had the island to ourselves. I harvested a low tide abalone something that people talked of doing on the mainland in the 40s. Tenderized with a mallet, it made good eating.
There had been roads cut through and you could see the Indian middens—remains of camps. It was really something.
Wow, what a great story.
I would have liked to have seen the remains of those Indian camps on Santa Rosa Island.
I never ate an abalone, but I remember seeing them for sale from time to time in markets in the Santa Barbara area.
I remember being impressed by the size of the shells with the mother-of-pearl like interiors. Many of them were the size of bicycle helmets!