The Scourge of Ghost Lobster Traps and the Battle to Save Marine Life in California

Ghost lobster trap off Santa Cruz Island in California’s Channel Islands (Photo: Erik Olsen)

Lobster is delicious. Let’s just get that out of the way. Yes, I’m sure there are some who either don’t enjoy the taste of this prolific crustacean, or who are allergic, but for my part, lobster (with a small vial of melted butter) is ambrosia from the sea.

But beyond its place on the plate, the California spiny lobster plays a vital ecological role: hunting sea urchins, hiding in rocky reefs, and helping to keep kelp forests in balance. Its value extends far beyond what it fetches at market. But beneath the surface, particularly around the Channel Islands lurks a growing problem that doesn’t just threaten lobsters. It threatens the entire marine ecosystem: ghost traps.

Dive ship Spectre off of Anacapa Island in California’s Channel Islands (Photo: Erik Olsen)

In Southern California, lobster fishing is both a cultural tradition and a thriving industry, worth an estimated $44 million annually to California’s economy from commercial landings as well as recreational fishing, tourism, and seafood markets.

In late April, I traveled to the Channel Islands with my colleague Tod Mesirow to see the problem of ghost lobster traps firsthand. We were aboard the Spectre dive ship and pulled out of Ventura Harbor on an overcast morning, the sky a uniform gray that blurred the line between sea and cloud. The swell was gentle, but the air carried a sense of anticipati on. We were invited by the Benioff Ocean Science Laboratory, which is conducting research and outreach in the area. Our visit took us to Anacapa and Santa Cruz Islands, where I would be diving to observe the traps littering the sea floor. Tod, meanwhile, remained topside, capturing footage and speaking with marine scientists. Even before entering the water, we could see the toll: frayed lines tangled in kelp, buoys adrift, and entire areas where dive teams had marked clusters of lost gear.

California spiny lobsters alive when the ghost trap was recovered (Photo: Erik Olsen)

Ghost traps are lobster pots that have been lost or abandoned at sea. Made of durable metal mesh and often outfitted with bait containers and strong ropes, these traps are built to last. And they do. For years. Sometimes decades. The problem is, even when their human operators are long gone, these traps keep fishing.

“It’s not uncommon to find multiple animals dead inside a single trap,” said Douglas McCauley, a marine science professor at UC Santa Barbara and director of the Benioff Ocean Science Laboratory who was onboard with us and leading the project. “It’s heartbreaking. These traps are still doing exactly what they were built to do, just without anyone coming back to check them.”

Douglas McCauley, director of the Benioff Ocean Science Laboratory at the University of California Santa Barbara holding a lobster caught in a ghost trap off the coast of the Channel Islands (Photo: Erik Olsen)

Around the Channel Islands National Marine Sanctuary, where fishing pressure is high and waters can be rough, thousands of traps are lost every season. Currents, storms, or boat propellers can sever buoys from their lines, leaving the traps invisible and unrecoverable. Yet they keep doing what they were designed to do: lure lobsters and other sea creatures inside, where they die and become bait for the next unfortunate animal. It’s a vicious cycle known as “ghost fishing.”

“They call them ghost traps because, like a ghost sailing ship, they keep doing their thing. They keep fishing.” said McCauley.

Statewide, the numbers are staggering. Approximately 6,500 traps are reported lost off the California coast each fishing season, according to The California Department of Fish and Wildlife. The folks at the Benioff Ocean Science Laboratory said as many as 6,000 may lie off the coast of the Channel Islands alone. Ocean Divers removing marine debris have found traps stacked three and four high in underwater ravines—rusting, tangled, but still deadly. These ghost traps don’t just catch lobsters; they also trap protected species like sheephead, cabezon, octopuses, and even the occasional sea turtle or diving seabird.

Diver and Project Scientist Chase Brewster of the Benioff Ocean Science Laboratory collecting data on ghost lobster traps near California’s Channel Islands (Photo: Erik Olsen)

Nowhere is this more evident than around the Channel Islands. These rugged islands are home to some of California’s richest kelp forests and underwater canyons. The islands and their surrounding waters are home to over 2,000 plant and animal species, with 145 of them being unique to the islands and found nowhere else on Earth. In fact, the Channel Islands are often referred to as North America’s Galapagos for the immense diversity of species here.

The islands are also the site of the state’s most productive spiny lobster fisheries. Every fall, hundreds of commercial and recreational fishers flood the area, setting thousands of traps in a race to catch California spiny lobsters (Panulirus interruptus). But rough swells and heavy gear mean traps go missing. Boats sometimes cut the lines of traps, making them near impossible to retrieve from the surface. And because this region is a patchwork of state waters, federal waters, and marine protected areas (MPAs), cleanup and regulation are anything but straightforward.

California Spiny Lobster off Anacapa Island (Photo: Erik Olsen)

The traps are often difficult to locate, partly because of their remote placement and the notoriously rough waters around the Channel Islands. But the Benioff Ocean Science Laboratory has a powerful asset: side scan sonar. From the ship, they can scan and map the seafloor, where the ghost traps often appear as dark, rectangular shapes against the sand. Once spotted, the team uses GPS to log their exact location.

“It’s creates a picture made of sound on the seafloor and you see these large lego blocks staring at you in bright yellow on the screen and those are your lobster traps,” sayd McCauley. “There’s nothing else except a ghost trap that looks like that.”

Plunging into the frigid waters off Santa Cruz Island was a jolt to the system. Visibility was limited, just 10 to 15 feet, but I followed two scientists from the Benioff Ocean Science Laboratory down to a depth of 45 feet. Their task: to attach a rope to the trap so it could be hauled up by the boat’s winch.

Dive ship Spectre off the coast of Santa Cruz Island in California’s Channel Islands (Photo: Erik Olsen)

The water was thick with suspended particles, the light dimming quickly as we dropped lower. My 7mm wetsuit was just barely enough to stave off the cold. On the seafloor, the ghost trap emerged, a large rectangular cage resting dark and ominous in the sand. And it was teeming with life. Fish darted around its edges, lobsters clambered along the frame, and inside, several animals moved about, trapped and slowly dying. It was easy to see how a single trap could wreak quiet havoc for years.

California law technically requires all lobster traps to include biodegradable “escape panels” with zinc hinges that degrade over time, eventually allowing trapped animals to escape. But enforcement is tricky, and the panels don’t always work as intended. In practice, many traps, especially older or illegally modified ones, keep fishing long after they should have stopped. That’s what we were out here to find.

A baby octopus caught in a ghost trap in the waters off California’s Channel Islands (Photo: Erik Olsen)

Complicating matters is the fact that once a trap goes missing, there’s no easy way to retrieve it. Fishers are not legally allowed to touch traps that aren’t theirs, even if they’re obviously abandoned. And while a few small nonprofits and volunteer dive teams conduct periodic ghost gear removal missions, they can’t keep pace with the scale of the problem.

“At this fishery, we can’t get them all,” says McCauley. “But by going through and getting some species out and getting them back in the water, we’re making a difference. But in the process, we’re coming up with new ideas, new technologies, new research methods, which we think could play a role in and actually stopping this problem in the first instance.”

Once abundant along California’s coast, this large abalone spotted off Santa Cruz Island is a rare sight today—a quiet reminder of how overfishing, disease, and environmental change have decimated their populations. (Photo: Erik Olsen)

Back topside, the recovery team aboard the Spectre used a powerful hydraulic winch to haul the trap onto the deck. After climbing out of the cold water, still shivering, I joined the others to get a closer look. The trap was heavy and foul-smelling, but what stood out most was what was inside: lobsters, maybe ten or more. Some had perished, but many were alive and thrashed their tails when lifted by the scientists. Females could be identified by their broader, flatter tail fins—adapted to hold eggs. The team carefully measured each one before tossing them back into the sea, the lobsters flipping backward through the air and disappearing into the depths.

There were other animals, too. Large, rounded crabs known as Sheep crabs, common to these waters, scuttled at the bottom of the trap. Sea snails were clustered along the mesh, and in one cage, there were dozens of them, clinging and crawling with slow purpose. Even baby octopuses made appearances, slithering out onto the deck like confused aliens. I picked one up gently, marveling at its strange, intelligent eyes and soft, shifting forms, before tossing it back into the sea in hopes it would have another chance at life.

Ghost lobster trap lies on the seafloor off of Santa Cruz Island in California’s Channel Islands (Photo: Erik Olsen)

By then, the day had brightened and the sun had come out, easing the chill that lingered after the dive. The traps would be taken back to Ventura, where they’d likely be documented and disposed of. But this day wasn’t just about saving individual animals or pulling traps off the seafloor—it was about data. The Benioff team wants to understand just how big of a problem ghost traps really are. It’s not just about the number of traps lost each season, but the broader ecological toll: how many animals get caught, how many die, and how these traps alter the underwater food web. Every recovered trap adds a piece to the puzzle. This trip was about science as much as rescue.

State agencies, including the California Department of Fish and Wildlife (CDFW), have started pilot programs aimed at tackling ghost gear. In 2023, CDFW launched a limited recovery permit program that allows fishers to collect derelict traps at the end of the season, provided they notify the state. But participation is voluntary and poorly funded.

Elsewhere, states like Maine and Florida have created large-scale, state-funded programs to identify and remove ghost traps, often employing fishers in the off-season. California, despite having the nation’s fourth-largest lobster fishery, has yet to make a similar investment.

Ghost lobster traps recovered from the seafloor off the coast of California’s Channel Islands (Photo: Erik Olsen)

Some solutions are already within reach. Mandating GPS-equipped buoys for commercial traps could help track and retrieve gear before it’s lost. More robust escape hatch designs, made from materials that dissolve in weeks rather than months, would shorten the lifespan of a lost trap. And expanding retrieval programs with funding from fishing license fees or federal grants could make a big dent in ghost gear accumulation.

But even more powerful than regulation may be public awareness. Ghost traps are out of sight, but their damage is far from invisible. Every trap left behind in the Channel Islands’ waters becomes another threat to biodiversity, another source of plastic and metal waste, and another reminder that marine stewardship doesn’t stop when the fishing season ends.

Key to the whole effort is data:

“Every one of the animals that we put back in the water today, we’ll be taking a measure,” says McCauley. “After a little bit of crunching in the lab, we’ll be able to say, oh, actually, you know, every single trap undercuts the fishery by x percent for every single year that we don’t solve the problem.”

Doug McCauley with a lobster trap retrieved from the seafloor off the coast of California’s Channel Islands (Photo: Erik Olsen)

As we headed back toward Ventura, Tod and I talked with Douglas McCauley and Project Scientist Neil Nathan from the Benioff Ocean Science Laboratory. The team had collected a total of 13 traps that day alone, and 34 over the several days they’d been out. There was a sense of satisfaction on board, quiet but real. Each trap removed was a small win for the ecosystem, a little less pressure on an already strained marine environment.

“I would call today an incredible success, ” said Neil Nathan. “Feeling great about the number of traps we collected.”

California has long been a leader in ocean conservation. If it wants to stay that way, it needs to take ghost fishing seriously, not just around the Channel Islands, but up and down the coast. After all, we owe it to the lobsters, yes, but also to the underwater forests, reef communities, and countless species whose lives are tangled in the nets we leave behind.

Unraveling the Geology Behind Palos Verdes’ Ongoing Landslide Crisis

A neighborhood threatened by landslides at Portuguese Bend on Palos Verdes (Erik Olsen)

For decades, geologists and engineers have been aware that the Portuguese Bend region of Palos Verdes is prone to landslides. Early maps and aerial surveys from the 1930s show continuous movement from the upper hills towards the high cliffs and bluffs that reach the Pacific Ocean.

Buy us coffee? We’d appreciate it!

Over the years, with a few exceptions, the ground movement was relatively slow, averaging about a foot per year. However, after the intense rains of the past year or two, the land is now shifting much more rapidly—up to 9 to 12 inches per week—plunging neighborhoods and communities built on this unstable terrain into panic and disarray. This accelerated movement has caused irreparable damage to some homes and led California to declare a state of emergency.

Aerial survey from the 1930s showing landslide potential at Portuguese Bend in Palos Verdes (Ranch Palos Verdes city government)

People have been allowed to build homes at Portuguese Bend largely due to a combination of historical oversight, demand for coastal real estate, and limited understanding of the area’s geologic instability when development first began. In the 1950s and 1960s, when much of the residential development in the area took place, there was less awareness and fewer regulations regarding the risks of building on unstable ground. Additionally, the picturesque coastal views and desirable location made Portuguese Bend an attractive area for developers and homeowners. Despite known landslide risks, building permits were often issued because of insufficient geotechnical assessments, political and economic pressures, and a lack of stringent land-use policies at the time. Over the years, as the understanding of the area’s geologic hazards has grown, there have been more restrictions and efforts to mitigate risks, but many homes already exist on land prone to movement.

CALIFORNIA CURATED ON ETSY

Purchase stunning art prints of iconic California scenes.
Check out our Etsy store.

The situation is similar to building homes in fire-prone areas – well-known to Californians, of course – within the so-called Wildland-Urban Interface (WUI), where human development meets and mixes with natural landscapes, creating a high-risk zone for natural disasters.

Small landslide at Portuguese Bend in Palos Verdes (Erik Olsen)

Portuguese Bend is one of the most active landslide zones on the peninsula. Here, the earth moves continuously, almost imperceptibly at times, but the effects are undeniable. The land isn’t just sliding; it’s flowing—like a slow-moving river of rock and dirt—down a natural depression, a sort of bowl or gulch formed by the interplay of tectonic activity and erosion. This gradual yet relentless descent toward the sea is driven by a combination of factors: the underlying geology of ancient marine sediment layers, heavy rainfall, and the constant forces of gravity pulling on the steep slopes. As a result, roads buckle, homes crack, and entire sections of land shift over time.

The geological makeup of Palos Verdes is complex and varied. The most prominent rocks on the Palos Verdes Peninsula, and the most crucial in terms of slope stability, belong to the Miocene Monterey Formation, which we wrote about in a previous article. This formation, over 2,000 feet thick in some areas, has been divided into three distinct members based on their rock types: the Altamira Shale, the Valmonte Diatomite, and the Malaga Mudstone, arranged from oldest to youngest.

Portuguese Bend at Palos Verdes

The Altamira Shale primarily consists of thin-bedded sedimentary rocks formed from layers of clay, interspersed with numerous layers of tuff, or volcanic ash that has largely transformed into weak clays over time. Thick deposits of volcanic ash, laid down millions of years ago, have been compacted into a clay-like material known as bentonite. When bentonite comes into contact with water, it becomes extremely slippery, acting like a natural lubricant. This slippery nature has been a major factor in triggering landslides throughout the Rancho Palos Verdes area, where the land’s stability is continually undermined by these underlying geological conditions.

Another factor contributing to landslides is the region’s tectonic activity. Palos Verdes sits above several active faults, including the Palos Verdes Fault. The movement along these faults exerts stress on the rock formations, leading to fractures and cracks that weaken the slopes. These cracks often become pathways for water to seep into the ground, further destabilizing the already precarious terrain.

The road along the coast at Portuguese Point has been moving for decades, a slow but relentless reminder of the dynamic nature of California’s landscape. (Erik Olsen)

Water plays a crucial role in triggering landslides in this region. Heavy rains, especially those associated with El Niño events like the atmospheric rivers of the last few years, can lead to a rapid increase in groundwater levels. When water infiltrates the ground, it increases the pressure within the soil and rock, reducing the friction that holds everything together. In Palos Verdes, where irrigation, septic systems, and urban development are common, human activities can exacerbate this natural process by altering drainage patterns and increasing water saturation in vulnerable areas. This convergence of natural and human-made factors makes the slopes more prone to sliding, particularly during or after intense rainfall.

To combat this, construction teams have installed a series of dewatering wells and pumps to actively extract groundwater from deep within the hillside. By lowering the water table and reducing the amount of water that saturates the soil, these efforts help to decrease the pressure within the slope and mitigate the risk of further ground movement. This method of dewatering is a crucial element in stabilizing the land, as it helps prevent the soil from becoming too heavy and reduces the lubricating effect that water has on the bentonite clay layers.

Closed road at Portuguese Bend in Palos Verdes (Erik Olsen)

Coastal erosion is another critical factor. The rugged cliffs of Palos Verdes are constantly being eroded by the ocean’s waves, wind, and rain. Over time, wave action undercuts the base of the cliffs, removing the support for the upper layers and leaving them hanging precariously over the ocean. As the base erodes away, the upper cliffs become more susceptible to collapse. When combined with the weakened geology and increased groundwater levels, this coastal erosion sets the stage for dramatic landslides.

Portuguese Point cliffs are part of the constant coastal erosion process at Palos Verdes aerial photo (Erik Olsen)

Recent studies are shedding new light on why landslides in Palos Verdes continue to be a concern. Geologists are now using advanced technologies, such as ground-penetrating radar and satellite imagery, to better understand the underground conditions that contribute to landslides. A study from the University of California, Los Angeles, has explored how even minor shifts in groundwater levels, exacerbated by climate change and increasingly unpredictable weather patterns, can tip the balance and trigger significant slope failures. This research emphasizes that it’s not just the obvious heavy rainfall events that pose a threat; subtle changes in water content due to human irrigation, drought, or even slight variations in precipitation can also destabilize these slopes over time.

CALIFORNIA CURATED ON ETSY

Purchase stunning art prints of iconic California scenes.
Check out our Etsy store.

Moreover, new geological mapping and subsurface studies have provided a clearer picture of the fault lines and the fractured rock layers beneath Palos Verdes. These studies suggest that the interaction between multiple fault zones may be more significant than previously thought, potentially increasing the region’s susceptibility to movement. Understanding these interactions is crucial for predicting future landslides and developing mitigation strategies.

But in the end, nature will likely have the final say.

Portuguese Bend in Palos Verdes (Erik Olsen)

The picture that emerges from these studies is one of a region where natural geological processes and human activities are in a delicate balance. It’s an ongoing fight that really offers a precarious vision of the future for residents and others who use the area for recreation. The weak rock formations, intersecting fault lines, and relentless coastal erosion create an environment where the land is always moving and on the brink of collapse. Add to this the unpredictable impacts of climate change, which can bring more intense storms and alter precipitation patterns, and it becomes clear why Palos Verdes is so prone to landslides.

Efforts to mitigate the risk are ongoing. Local governments and geologists are working to develop more effective monitoring systems and better land-use planning guidelines to manage development in these sensitive areas. Understanding the complex geology and hydrology of Palos Verdes is critical to preventing future disasters and protecting the communities that call this beautiful but unstable coastline home.

Buy us coffee? We’d appreciate it! Lots of work goes into creating California Curated.

Dark Parks in California Allow Us to Reconnect with the Universe

Support California Curated with a small donation.

Despite its vast expanse (over 163,000 square miles) California offers surprisingly few places where one can truly gaze upon the night sky in all its glory. Urban light pollution has dimmed the stars across much of the state, making it a rare treat to see more than a handful of celestial points on a clear night. In California’s largest metropolitan areas, like Los Angeles and the Bay Area, the glow from light pollution is so intense that the Milky Way is almost entirely washed out, leaving just the brightest planets and stars visible.

Of course, this is not just a California problem. It’s a sobering reality that underscores a serious global issue: as of 2016, due to artificial lighting, about one-third of humanity could no longer see the Milky Way. Yikes. The problem has only worsened as many cities switch to LED lighting. While LEDs have revolutionized how we light our world and reduced the cost of illumination compared to incandescent bulbs, they have also diminished our ability to see the stars.

Light pollution in Los Angeles as seen from Angeles National Forest (Photo: Erik Olsen)

All that light at night also messes with our lives, interfering with circadian rhythms, leading to sleep disorders, increased stress, and potential long-term health issues such as obesity and cardiovascular disease, according to studies. Artificial light also disrupts ecosystems, affecting nocturnal wildlife by altering their natural behaviors and migration patterns, and can lead to decreased biodiversity. In fact, scientific evidence suggests that artificial light at night has negative and deadly effects on many creatures, including amphibians, reptiles, birds, mammals, insects, and plants.

CALIFORNIA CURATED ON ETSY

Purchase stunning art prints of iconic California scenes.
Check out our Etsy store.

Dark parks in California offer a refuge from light pollution, providing a glimpse into the cosmos that most urban dwellers rarely experience. These parks are sanctuaries for stargazers, astronomers, and anyone longing to witness the majesty of the night sky. Spend a night camping in the Eastern Sierra, and you will know what I mean. There are few experiences in the natural world as profound as gazing into a blanket of millions and billions of stars and pondering the number of other worlds that might exist in the cosmos (it’s pretty much guaranteed there’s more than one, more than just us).

If only there was an organized effort to create and protect areas where darkness reigns. Enter the DarkSky International.

DarkSky International (previously the International Dark-Sky Association), founded in 1988, is dedicated to combating light pollution and preserving night skies through advocacy, education, and promotion of responsible outdoor lighting practices. They designate Dark Sky Places, including parks, reserves, and communities that meet rigorous lighting standards. As of now, there are just two designated Dark Sky Parks in California (see below) and over 130 across the United States. The IDA also works with policymakers to develop lighting regulations, supports scientific research on light pollution, and raises public awareness about the benefits of preserving dark skies for human health, wildlife, and the environment.

Dark skies are categorized using the Bortle Dark-Sky Scale, a system developed by amateur astronomer John E. Bortle to measure how much light pollution affects the visibility of stars and celestial objects. The scale ranges from Class 1, where the sky is pristine and free from artificial light, to Class 9, where the glow of urban lights makes it nearly impossible to see even the brightest stars. In a Bortle Class 1 sky, found in the most remote wilderness areas, you can see the Milky Way as a bright, detailed arc across the sky, along with countless stars and deep-sky objects. By contrast, in a Bortle Class 9 sky, such as in the heart of Los Angeles or New York City, only the moon, a few planets, and a handful of the brightest stars are visible. This scale offers a standardized way for scientists, conservationists, and amateur stargazers to assess the impact of artificial lighting and advocate for the preservation of natural darkness.

The night sky has always been a source of wonder and inspiration. For centuries, humans have looked up at the stars to navigate, tell time, and dream. Dark skies allow us to see celestial phenomena such as meteor showers, the Milky Way, and distant planets. They also foster a connection to the universe, reminding us of our place in a vast and mysterious cosmos. Beyond their aesthetic and inspirational value, dark skies have practical benefits too. They aid scientific research, support wildlife, and even improve human health by regulating our circadian rhythms, say researchers.

Advances in technology have revolutionized astrophotography, enabling photographers to capture the night sky in unprecedented detail. High-sensitivity digital cameras, sophisticated telescopes, and powerful image processing software allow for breathtakingly detailed images of celestial phenomena, from the intricate structures of distant galaxies to the ethereal glow of the Milky Way. These advancements have also made time-lapse photography more accessible, leading to a surge in mesmerizing time-lapse videos of the night sky. These videos, widely shared online (I’ve watched scores of them), showcase the dynamic beauty of the cosmos as stars and planets traverse the heavens. They offer viewers an immersive experience that reveals the universe’s grandeur and motion in a way static images cannot. This booming genre draws in audiences and encourages a deeper appreciation for the night sky, as well as the technology that makes stunning visual storytelling possible. Which raises an odd and unsettling question: what does it mean when we can have a better experience of the night sky by looking at a screen than by looking up at the sky itself?

For a glimpse into the latest in astrophotography, the Milky Way Photographer of the Year awards showcase some of the genre’s best work. Now in its seventh year, the competition by Capture the Atlas highlights 25 stunning images selected from over 5,000 entries, offering breathtaking views of our star-studded galaxy from around the world.

But all is not lost dear California friends. Outside the blazing urban megalopolises of Los Angeles/San Diego and San Francisco/San Jose, California boasts numerous places where visitors can escape the pervasive glow of artificial light. Here are a few of the best:

1. Death Valley National Park: Known for its extreme conditions and vast desert landscapes, Death Valley is one of the darkest places in the United States. The park is one of the two designated dark parks in California and the only one in the state classified as a Gold Tier Dark Sky Park. Its remote location and low humidity create ideal conditions for stargazing.The top ranger suggestions for star gazing locations in Death Valley National Park are: Mesquite Flat Sand Dunes, Harmony Borax Works, Badwater Basin and Ubehebe Crater.

2. Joshua Tree National Park: Famous for its unique rock formations and Joshua trees, this park is also a haven for astronomy enthusiasts. This is the second of California’s official dark parks. The park’s rugged terrain and minimal light pollution offer excellent visibility of the night sky. There are four designated stargazing areas in the park. They are the parking lots of Quail Springs, Hidden Valley, Cap Rock, and Ryan Mountain.

Night skies ablaze with stars and the Milky Way in Joshua Tree National Park (Unsplash)

3. Anza-Borrego Desert State Park: As California’s largest state park, the 600,000-acre Anza-Borrego Desert State Park provides expansive desert vistas perfect for stargazing. The park is the third and final designated dark park in the state and hosts regular star parties and events to educate the public about the night sky. If you’re looking for a guided tour, check out the Borrego Night Sky Tours.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Night_shots_ (@night_shots_)

4. Mount Shasta: If you’re able to go further north, Mount Shasta’s high elevation and clear skies make it a prime spot for observing the stars. The area’s natural beauty adds to the experience of a night under the stars. Everitt Vista Point and Bunny Flat at Mt. Shasta are prime spots for stargazing, along with Lake Siskiyou, Somes Bar, and Shafter Campground. Medicine Lake, near Lava Beds National Monument, also shines in this celestial line-up. Lake Siskiyou offers stunning reflections of the night sky, while Somes Bar and Shafter Campground are known for minimal light pollution and excellent visibility.

5. Pfeiffer Big Sur State Park: Stretching along the central coast, this park offers stunning views of the Pacific Ocean and a dark sky backdrop perfect for stargazing. The park’s coastal location can provide unique opportunities to see the stars reflected in the ocean below.

Pfeiffer Big Sur State Park (Photo: Reddit)

6. Mount Wilson Observatory: Perched atop a 1,740-meter peak in the San Gabriel Mountains, the Mount Wilson Observatory in Southern California, founded in 1904, boasts some of the largest telescopes available for public use. While primarily an educational venue, it offers an exceptional stargazing experience and a chance to delve into astronomy, appealing to both enthusiasts and experts. It’s just above Los Angeles, so, yeah, the skies aren’t that clear, but we have seen the Milky Way up there before. The observatory provides guided and self-guided tours year-round, making it an ideal destination for learning about the cosmos.

7. Oasis. Said to be the darkest place in California, this tiny little farming town tucked in between Death Valley National Park and the Nevada state line is the gateway to some of the best night gazing skies in the California desert. There’s a whole lot of wild area to the south, between Oasis and Ubehebe Crater in DVNP, that boasts skies as dark as any in the United States.

Dark parks in California, like Death Valley National Park and Anza-Borrego Desert State Park, offer incredible opportunities to reflect on your place in the cosmos. Beneath the inky blackness of a truly dark sky, the Milky Way stretches across the heavens in astonishing detail, and countless stars shimmer with a clarity that feels almost unreal. Just think about this for a moment: The Milky Way galaxy is home to an estimated 100 to 400 billion stars. And that’s just one galaxy! There are estimated to be between 100 billion and 2 trillion other galaxies out there. I mean, what?! It’s a scale so vast it’s almost impossible to comprehend.

And that’s what makes light pollution so sad and tragic. While we gain comfort and protection in our cities, the light we generate robs us of the chance to truly grasp our place in the universe. We are so small, and yet, as far as we know, we’re the only life out there. That’s a lot more thought-provoking than any Marvel movie (no offense to Marvel fans).

It’s true that the profound experience of stargazing fosters a deeper connection to the natural world and our place within it, reminding us of the wonder and mystery that lie beyond our planet. These are important things to remember. We owe it to ourselves to occasionally step away from the glow of our homes and cities and stand beneath a truly dark sky, where the universe stretches out above in a breathtaking display. In moments of reflection, we appreciate the invaluable gift of darkness, which not only preserves the nocturnal environment but also fuels our curiosity and sense of wonder—just as it has for our ancestors for thousands of years. By celebrating and protecting these dark parks, we ensure that future generations can continue to gaze up in awe, finding inspiration in the endless expanse of the cosmos.

Support California Curated with a small donation.

Share me!

Share me!

Share me!