Days 18-20: Sucia

Early in the trip, whenever someone asked where we were headed, I always said, “Sucia.” Well, after almost three weeks, we were about to finally land on our destination.

When I was a kayak guide, over fifteen years ago, I was told by my company NOT to take clients to Sucia. Even though it was a beautiful island, the crossing from Orcas was treacherous. The seas between Orcas and Sucia were full of shifting currents, and were unnavigable – the current atlas was useless in predicting their finicky nature. Worse, the weather could change drastically leaving you totally exposed to the full brunt of wind and swell from the Straight of Georgia.

When I stopped guiding and began paddling with friends in Seattle, I soon learned that a lot of kayakers go to Sucia. Yes, the currents can be hard to predict. Yes, you can get big swell from the north. But it’s all manageable. And more importantly, Sucia is a beautiful island (or series of islands), a jewel of a destination that you can explore via kayak (or on foot) for days. The real big downside to Sucia is that too many people like to go there, especially the boaters, and in this pandemic summer, we had word that the bays and coves of the island were overflowing with sailboats, motorboats, dinghies and rafts. It seemed like anyone with a floatable vehicle was trying to get on the water and Sucia was the destination.

Given all of the above, we were a bit apprehensive when it came time to paddle from Clark to Sucia. We originally wanted to spend a night on Matia, but foul weather was in the forecast and Matia, like Clark, didn’t have any water. If we were going to be stuck somewhere, Sucia seemed like the place to be. So after a slow morning waiting for the tides to shift, we loaded the boats and started heading north. The weather was ideal – light breeze from the south pushing us along without a single cloud in the sky. In the distance, we could see Mt. Baker rising high about the horizon, snow capped and white, like a sentinel watching over us. About an hour into the paddle we encountered the finicky currents everyone had mentioned. They weren’t dangerous or anything – no tide rips or eddies. They just sort of moved us from side to side, making it feel like we were slipping away from our destination. It was annoying, but I never felt like the crossing was problematic. And given the beautiful conditions, I couldn’t help but enjoy every minute of the journey.

A brief note about Sucia’s geography-

While looking for a suitable campsite to hunker down at for a couple days, we heard a voice shout out, “Is that Giovannina and Woody?!” It was an old SCUBA friend, Gene Coronetz, on a kayak trip with a group of buddies, all of them in their seventies (amen.) They had been dropped off with kayaks and camping gear and then, over about five days, were planning to paddle back to Anacortes. What a great group of fellows, all welcoming and generous with their treats (those guys have great taste in whiskey.)

We spent quite a bit of time with them over the next few days as we all were weathered in as the storm passed over us, bringing squalls of wind and rain. Gene is a natural storyteller and regaled us with tales of SCUBA diving with seven foot halibut and hunting for abalone, back when they were plentiful enough to hunt. Thankfully, there are several picnic shelters around Fossil Bay and I was able to find some dry spots to do my grading (yep, still teaching my online class, even on a kayak trip) while Giovannina explored the island’s many trails. I should note that the picnic shelters (and many other amenities on Sucia) were donated by the International Yacht Club for Boaters, a private group that wanted the boating public to enjoy the island. It’s always nice when well-to-do folks give money so the rest of us can enjoy neat things. I just wish they did it a little more often.

When it wasn’t raining (and I wasn’t grading), Giovannina and I explored some of the trails together and got to do some more tidepooling at Ewing Cover. These pools weren’t as diverse as the ones on Lummi Rocks, but were still full of bright encrusting algae, miniature sea urchins, limpets and chitons.