Twenty-six miles across the sea, Santa Catalina is the place for me.

This is the city of Avalon on Catalina Island. Where is that you might ask. If you live in southern California you probably have heard of it. Chances are you've been. But from experience, most who have lived there entire lives in the southern California area have never even had the pleasure of going to what I call my happy place. Many others from the rest of the United States have never even heard of it but take it from someone that has been going there my entire life, it is a place that I cherish and love. The memories that I have acquired over the years are endless and I know the Island like the back of my hand.

The Island was was originally inhabited by Native Americans thousands of years ago. It was officially founded in 1542 by the Spanish explorer Juan Rodriguez Cabrillo. In the 1700s life was dramatically changed for the island's native peoples when the Spanish colonized the California coast and its islands. Most of the islands population by choice or compulsion relocated to what islanders call the mainland. In 1846 the Mexican government granted ownership to a private citizen. After changing hands over the years the Wrigley family of the Wrigley Gum tycoon brought the island in 1919 and it remained in his family until it was decided to create the Catalina Island Conservancy which is charged with preserving and protecting the island for future generations.

Twenty -six miles across the sea, the island itself is one hour ferry ride from a few different southern California ports. If you have the means, you can take a fifteen minute helicopter ride or if you are a pilot or know someone that fly's and has a plane, you can fly into what some pilots call the scariest runway they ever used from the Airport in the Sky which is located at the top of the island. From there you take a winding 20 minute ride into town with views of some of the islands best lookouts. You might even see a buffalo or two...or ten. Brought there in 1924 a herd of fourteen American bison were introduced to the island to provide a backdrop for the production of Zane Grey's film The Vanishing American. Since then the herd has grown to over 150 and provide a unigue experience that most find unexpected. If you've never seen a buffalo in person they are quite large and a bit intimadating. You'll be happy your in a vehicle for that sight. Don't worry, they are not allowed to wander in Avalon. However when in town you can celebrate the city mascot by enjoying a Buffalo Milk, picking up a stuffed bison or enjoying a bison burger.

My earliest memory of the island is going out at six in the morning as a young boy amongst a group of shivering six years old's for swimming lessons provided by the towns teen center. From there I would go to see my aunt who my family describes as going to Avalon on her honeymoon and never coming home. She now worked as a waitress at the famous Pancake Cottage. After my free breakfast it was off to riding my bike up and down the streets and hills of the city looking for any of my many friends that was out. We would waste time until our favorite activity opened up...the arcade. With ten dollars from my aunt in my pocket burning a hole it was gaming for as long as five bucks would last then off to the beach once more to hang out in the sand, swim to the float for contests such as who could swim under the float fastest or who could cannonball the unsuspicting tourist. After a while all the local boys would head in and with no towels...towels were for tourists, we would form a circle and lay down in the hot sand. Much discussion would begin about what to do from after or what girl was the prettiest or what movie was on for the week. Next began the ritual of one of the boys running onto the pier to get straws from Eric's on the Pier and running back with a handful that he would stick into the top of a huge sand hill that the other boys would build in between our circle. This would decide who was going to run across the beach kicking sand up on again, unsuspecting tourists. One armful after armful by each boy until the last straw fell. Many times i felt that knot in my stomach when mine was the last straw. There was no saying no or going back. It had to be done to claim your respect. Sometimes a simple sorry would be all that you would have to say, others you kept running and didn't stop. In those instances, your day at the beach was over but at least you could walk with your head up amongst your peers.

Those memories are just a fraction of the great times the island offered for a child growing up. As I got older our games and fun became more mature but still full of laughter and mischievousness. Along with good times the island is full of sights to see, tours to go on and beautiful things and places and interesting things to do. I could go on for hours about it...and maybe I will in another blog. I just wanted to give you a taste of my happy place. Hopefully you will be intrigued enough to find out for yourself what the island has to offer and come to love the place that has such a fond spot in my heart.

In loving memory of Aunt Dorothy