Cabrillo National Monument is one of the little gems of the National Park System. Located at the tip of Point Loma, a peninsula that’s on the northwest side of San Diego Bay. Only 160 acres and surrounded by a major Naval base and Coast Guard station, Cabrillo is nevertheless a tiny treasure — and because of its proximity to one of America’s largest urban areas, it’s one of the most heavily visited pieces of the park system.

Cabrillo preserves the story of Juan Rodriguez Cabrillo, who became the first European to land a ship on the Western coast of North America. When his flotilla of three little sailing ships entered the bay on the 28th day of September 1542, he described the harbor, which he named San Miguel, as “Un Puerto cerrado y muy bueno.” A closed and very good port. The United States Navy apparently agrees, because today San Diego Bay is homeport to the Pacific Fleet.

Cabrillo and crews of ships named San Salvador, La Victoria, and San Miguel remained inside the bay for six days to wait out a storm. Then they set sail again with the intent to follow the coast north and then west until they finally reached Asia. In the next few weeks they sighted Santa Catalina and San Clemente Islands before turning into what is today the bay of the city of Los Angeles. Cabrillo’s expedition reports tell us that the lands around there were so smoky that he named the place Bahia de Los Fumos — the Bay of Smokes.

Then, tragedy. In November the expedition stopped for fresh water on what is now one of the Channel Islands. What happened is unclear. One story is that Cabrillo jumped from a boat and broke his leg. Another says he slipped on a rock and broke his upper arm. In days when medical care was at best primitive, Cabrillo’s accident proved fatal. He died on January 3, 1543. Probably due to infection. But before dying, Juan Rodriguez asked his chief pilot, Bartolome de Ferrer, to take command and continue the expedition. He did, and after burying Cabrillo, the expedition continued perhaps as far north as present day Oregon.

Then, in March, the small fleet was hit was hit by a storm and La Victoria disappeared. After three very anxious weeks, the fleet somehow reunited. That was enough, and Ferrar and his ships’ crews abandoned the expedition to return to Guatemala from whence they had started so many months earlier.

Even though they failed to reach Asia and failed to find any gold or other treasures, the expedition of Cabrillo and Ferrer did manage to bring back a store of knowledge and a claim of the California coast for Spain.

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Volunteer Gary Reilly helps visitors understand what 16th century conquistadors looked like and the weapons they carried/Lee Dalton

Today’s visitors to Cabrillo are met by a smorgasbord of things to see, do, and learn. I got there fairly early on a Monday morning, and the first person I encountered was a Spanish Conquistador toting a long gun and wearing a very uncomfortable looking iron helmet. Gary Reilly is just one of large flock of volunteers who spend time portraying some of the kinds of people who might have been with Juan Cabrillo. He’s a musketeer carrying a 58 caliber arquebus. As I stood talking with Gary, a bunch of 5th graders came tumbling along the sidewalk from the parking lot. The ranger who was supposed to meet them wasn’t ready yet, so Gary jumped in and told the kids and me a wonderful tale that had the kids (and me, too) spellbound.

In the days of Cabrillo, young men who didn’t have money and didn’t hail from prominent families had very few choices in life. Basically you could remain a peasant or you could become a mercenary soldier. As a mercenary, you’d hire out to anyone who needed men willing to fight. You could choose to carry a crossbow — as Cabrillo himself had done earlier in life — or you could buy yourself a more modern weapon like an arquebus and use gunpowder. Whether a crossbow or a gun was a better weapon is open to debate. The crossbow was probably more accurate than a musket, but the big noise the musket made sometimes set potential enemies to running.

Gary had the kids literally sitting on the edges of their rocks while he showed us the intricate steps needed to load and fire the musket — using a smoldering wick to touch off the powder. Then, borrowing one young man to serve as an enemy, Gary showed us some tricks we could use to try to stay alive in an old fashioned sword fight. His best advice for survival was simple: “Run as fast as you can unless somebody is paying you to be a soldier."

Just as Gary finished, Ranger Amanda Gossard showed up to take over. I wandered away but then, very happily, caught up with Amanda and the kids twice more as she introduced them to Cabrillo. Thank goodness I did, because I was able to share in discoveries I’d have missed if I hadn’t. I was there when she introduced them to spices sought by early explorers and merchants. As valuable as gold, she said. A little later, inside the museum, I listened as she told them about the tiny ships Cabrillo and his men used and what their lives must have been like aboard them.

Keeping wiggly kids interested and attentive for any subject can be a challenge, especially when there are all the distractions of someplace that’s a lot more fun than a stuffy old classroom. But Amanda rose to the occasion like a master teacher. She had us all hanging on to every word, especially when she brought up a subject that 10 and 11 year olds really seem to enjoy for some reason.

Ranger Amanda Gossard has over the years attracted a very loyal following of teachers/Lee Dalton

She explained, with a lot of happy humor, why a ship’s potty is called a “head” and helped them imagine what it would have been like to use the head on one of Cabrillo’s little vessels. Especially in rough weather when waves were breaking over the head. I’ll suggest to any of you who don’t know why a head is a head to look it up on the Internet; suffice it to say that those kids will certainly remember it.

I had wanted to find a chance to talk with Amanda when she finished, but she pulled a disappearing act that was just stunning when she had to rush off to meet the next class of youngsters. I did talk for a few moments with the kids’ teacher who said she’s been bringing students to Cabrillo for many years and that Amanda has entranced her young’uns every time. She even schedules her class trips only at times when Amanda will be available.

I learned, too, that Cabrillo is a place where school field trips fill most of every day. While I was there, I saw four or five groups. Like so many of our other historic sites, Cabrillo provides a living textbook into which students of all ages can dive and immerse themselves in ways that no words on a printed page could ever do.

Rangers and volunteers spend a lot of time guiding and teaching about an almost endless variety of subjects. Tidepools are popular. So is the old lighthouse with its lightkeeper’s quarters and small museum. Then there are the remnants of historic artillery installations that once protected San Diego Bay against invasions. 

Even a passing Navy destroyer brought about a series of announcements on the Visitor Center’s PA, and the crowd of awed visitors standing on the patio learned the type of ship, its name, and a host of other details about it. I got the idea that whoever was making the announcement must have been retired Navy.

There seemed to be no end to things to see and do out at the end of Point Loma. I’d planned on just part of one day there, but wound up spending all of Monday and a good chunk of Tuesday trying to see all I could.

Salt air and other elements have taken a hard toll on outdoor placards at the national monument/Lee Dalton

Yet there are signs of distress everywhere. Museum exhibits that don’t work properly and wayside interpretive panels so sunbleached they’re hard to read. Once again, money rears its green and ugly head. The place is crowded all the time and it’s very apparent that without all the volunteers who step in to help in every way imaginable, Cabrillo would simply collapse.

Thankfully, Cabrillo’s urban location in the ideal climate of Southern California means there is a huge pool of retired folks who are looking for something to engage them. The monument takes full advantage of that, and the volunteers I met are a mighty dedicated bunch ready to do almost anything the place needs. I’ve never met a bunch of volunteers in any other parks I’ve visited who seemed to have as much involvement and concern for the park as they do here. Perhaps it’s because they are locals who spend a great deal of time, effort, and dedication and who appear to feel that they are really valued as team members. Whatever it is, it’s noticeable.

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It must be very, very interesting to try to run a national monument where the U.S. Navy makes the rules. Visitors to Cabrillo must pass through a mile or more of the base. Gates open at 0800 and close promptly at 1700. Y’all just better be out by then. Period.

Park historian Roy Munson shared a story with me. Seems he was working on a big project once and, to try to avoid interruption, he broke the rules and stayed late. Around 2100 hours he headed for his car in the parking lot. It was pitch black, but he has the lot memorized “like Braille.” He suddenly became aware of three men. He never actually really saw them. They were just awarenesses in the night. Everyone stood still for a moment or two and then one of the apparitions said, “He’s not the target, guys.” Then, just as stealthily as they had appeared, they were gone.

It seems the Navy SEALS who train nearby use Cabrillo after park hours for whatever SEALS do in the dark. . . .

Someone told me that when Roy retires soon, his historian position will be lapsed permanently. I heard a remark in Death Valley a few days earlier that historians are becoming an endangered species in the NPS. After all, who needs historians in an Internet world?

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NOT EVERYTHING IS HAPPY HERE

Like too many of our national parks and monuments, Cabrillo is in Big Trouble. I wish it were possible to separate our national treasures from the specter of politics, but it’s not.

On the first of November, Cabrillo National Monument lost eight people from its staff. Eight term positions ended and the people who had filled them were suddenly out of work. Five were interpreters. Now, only three interpreters remain.

One person told me there is simply no way now that the park will be able to meet all the requests for ranger-led activities for visiting school groups. The average is about six groups every day. One staffer said all eight who are gone were absolutely top-notch people who were great contributors to the park. A volunteer remarked that “morale in the park is in the sewer.”

What now?

No one knows.

I spoke with a number of people, and won’t quote any by name here. I don’t fully understand what’s involved with those term positions. Apparently, however, a term position is the product of some Congressional abracadabra from 15 or 20 years ago that demands that any positions filled in a government agency must be funded.

Okay.

But that means now that when an agency needs more people, it must somehow find some kind of dollar source to pay for it. It’s necessary to sell someone higher up that whatever the job may be is actually worth doing. Once that is done, someone must go hunting for dollars to pay for it. Finding money eats an enormous amount of time and talent that is usually needed somewhere else. That means sacrificing some other job while the search is on. Most money comes in four-year bundles and at the end of four years those dollars disappear unless someone has gone out and captured enough to extend the term.

I asked if the current Washington administration has something to do with it. The answer was, “No, not really. This goes back 20 or so years to Congress.”

I asked if someone at the local level had dropped the ball. “No. Sometimes, it’s way beyond local control. Trouble is, finding funding is challenging and very time-consuming. In addition, it’s often dependent upon a long and intricately complex chain of command extending far beyond just an individual park so no matter how much a park may try to obtain funding, it just may not be possible.”

So who is to blame?

No one you can find, really. It’s often hidden behind a curtain or smokescreen. It’s totally impersonal. That’s just the way it is. And here, I need to add that everyone with whom I spoke had nothing but praise for Andrea Compton, who is Cabrillo’s current superintendent. One person said, “If she had anything to do with it, it wouldn’t have happened. She’s doing a tremendous job, but is facing some nearly overwhelming challenges.”

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And so, Cabrillo, like so many of our other parks, is hanging in there. Volunteers are Cabrillo’s saviors — for now, at least.

But what’s coming next?

Who can say?

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One thing that hit me as I was typing this is that most park visitors probably have no idea what is going on behind the scenes in our parks. They come through the gates expecting the place they are visiting to be another national treasure that’s well run and clean. The fact that they are in such good shape is real testimony to the incredible hard work and dedication of the people who wear the Arrowhead on their sleeves. And those who volunteer to help.

Most Americans, I’ll wager, have absolutely no idea how endangered our precious parks are. Maybe it’s up to us who do know what’s really happening and are free of any restrictions on what we are able to say to somehow find ways to begin educating everyone who will listen. Before it’s too late.

This website is one avenue we may use to do that. Kurt has asked for our support. Let’s give it to him.