Day 33: Fourth of July Beach to James Island (Part 1)

We spent the following couple of days with Tim and Angela in an enchanting little apartment above an antique shop right in the middle of Friday Harbor. The apartment has this great balcony perched over the street, and in the morning I would sit out there and journal, watching the locals and tourists walk to and fro up and down the street. Across from the apartment is a bakery, and this being Covid times, patrons lined up, wearing masks, six feet apart outside the entrance waiting for the fresh-baked croissants, muffins and other pastries to go with their latte or americano. It was quite a change from waking up in our tent, camped out on a rocky shoreline or under a forest canopy. 

We awoke around 7:00 am on Thursday September 3, 2020 so Tim could drive us back to the launch at Fourth of July Beach. We wanted to be on the water by 10:00 am to catch the ebb current through Cattle Pass. Our goal was to cruise around Iceberg Point and the southern coast of Lopez Island before turning north for James Island where we would spend Labor Day Weekend camping with our friends Laurel and Omar. I had heard from many kayakers that Iceberg Point and the south end of Lopez has the most beautiful coastline in all of the San Juans. Looking at our chart, the bays and peninsulas seemed to form a labyrinth of waterways just begging to be explored. Unfortunately, there is no camping along the whole stretch of shoreline and so we were committing to another long day of paddling without any bail out points if conditions turned sour. Like our previous paddle down the west side of San Juan Island, this one would expose us to whatever swell and wind were in the Strait of Juan de Fuca, so conditions had to be pretty ideal. Thankfully, the currents would be in our favor. The were set to run east along Lopez for the first half of the paddle and then turn north in Rosaria Strait, right about the time we would round Watmough Head. The marine forecast looked good, with winds less than ten knots, but there was still the chance of fog, which would preclude us from crossing Cattle Pass in time to catch the currents and could spoil the whole endeavor. 

Squeezed between Whale Rocks and Mummy Rocks, the currents here were moving faster than they were in Cattle Pass, but without all of the turbulence. We were like a couple of corks bobbing down a stream, twisting and turning, but with no threat of capsizing. As we tried paddling closer to the sea lions, we were swept sideways to the east towards Long Island, the current pulling us farther away from these big, stinky marine mammals. Off in the distance, we saw one in the water, its head bobbing and then turning to look at us as it dove underwater. It was coming our way. I looked at Giovannina and she said, “I think we’re close enough.” We turned our boats and let the currents pull us away from there.