September 14th
We were supposed to leave Sunday for this trip, but there was a small craft warning in Rosario Strait, so we opted for an early start on Monday, catching a ferry to Orcas and launching from Deer Harbor. Gio prefers not to take ferries on these kayak trips, and after waiting in line for 90 minutes, spending an hour with 50 middle schoolers on their way to a camp on Orcas, and then driving around Deer Harbor to find parking, I have to agree with her. But crossing Rosario is no joke, and if we wanted to spend two nights on Jones, this was the best way to do it. Plus, we got pastries in Eastsound, which was pretty awesome.
It took us less than an hour to paddle from Deer Harbor to Jones Island. A breeze stirred the leaves on the maples, which had begun to turn yellow, but the seas were placid and there were few boats on the water. We arrived at the Cascadia Marine Trails campsite on the west side of Jones around 3 pm, plenty of time to set up camp and enjoy some hammock time.
I’ve written about Jones before. It may be one of the most idyllic state parks in all of Washington. It’s large enough to get some solitude, yet also has open fields for big groups, such as the kayak tours I used to bring here 20 years ago. We had the whole west side to ourselves for the first day. With views of bipolar Speiden Island (the north half is forested and the south half is a dry grassland) and the Canadian Gulf Islands in the distance, it feels like you can sail off into eternity. And the sunsets are sublime. The sky alight in fire over San Juan Island as the clouds erupt in ecstasy. Ok…that might be a little over the top, but lord is it beautiful.
Most importantly, it’s just a great place to chill, which is what I’ve been wanting to do for the last month. Summer is Seattle is heavenly, but as one friend put it, “Everyone’s FOMO is at 11.” We all know the rains will start soon so we try to get as much outdoor time as we can, whether that be play or work (We spent the last week cleaning the roof, painting trim and cutting grapevines). At some point, all the activity begins to wear on me, and by the end of August, my inner pluviophile begs for rain. But a few years ago, Gio and I started coming to the San Juans in mid-September when the weather is still warm, and the place is a lot less crowded.
September 15th
We were awakened at 5:24 am by the sound of scurrying animals. Sleepily, we listened to grunts and patter for a few minutes before climbing out of the tent to find two pairs of glowing eyes staring at us from behind a clump of salal. Raccoons. We’ve been raided before on kayaking trips and are always wary when we camp on a popular island like Jones. Giovannina is trying out a new kayak that has clips that seal the hatches, and we stored all the food in her boat. Small, dirty paw prints covered her kayak. Mine was clean. The buggers knew where the food was; they just couldn’t get to it, thank goodness. Content that we had foiled the trash pandas this time, we went back to bed and didn’t wake up until 8:30 when my back and bladder insisted I greet the morning.
We had thought about paddling down to Friday Harbor for lunch, but we have enough food to last us a week, and once on the water, the last thing I wanted was to be back in a town. So we cruised the west side of Shaw Island looking for a lunch spot. We found several beaches along the southwestern tip of Shaw, but all of them had large, yellow signs that read “Research area. Positively no trespassing on tidelands, beaches or forests.” Who wrote that? Why not just put “No trespassing.”? Why add “positively”? If you really wanted to make your point, an “absolutely” would suffice, but “positively”? This was obviously…sorry, unnecessary adverb…This sign was written by someone from the University of Washington to let people — mostly kayakers — know not to mess with their research. That’s fine. I get it. The researchers’ careers rely upon unadulterated data, and we want our science to be as objective as possible, but this kind of arrogance is why people don’t like privileged academics. They could have written something like, “We’re doing important work that is largely supported by your tax dollars. We want our research to be of the utmost integrity, so please avoid this area. It really means a lot. Thanks.” But no. We just get “Positively no trespassing.” And there’s nowhere that even says it’s the UW’s land. I just happen to know that because I’m one of those privileged academics who are aware of these sorts of things.
In the end, we turned around and found another beach to eat our hummus and veggie wraps on. And it was positively delightful
September 16th
It was a lazy day. We slept in, went for a quick dip, and then sunned ourselves on the hot rocks of the south-facing beach. The island is deserted, so we spent much of our time either naked or mostly so. I participated in one of my favorite lazy day activities: fixing gear. I sewed a hole in my pants pocket and found the act meditative and calming. Then I hit the hammock and read my book. I’m always amazed at how hot the sun is in the islands, and yet a foot into the shade, it becomes ice cold. It’s as if the air is somehow bifurcated into two coexisting worlds.
I was interrupted from my reading by the drone of several large whale-watching boats in Rosario Strait. I got up and found Giovannina with her binoculars sitting at the picnic table, following the action. About half a dozen vessels surrounded a small pod of orcas. With the binoculars, we could see one big adult male and a couple of smaller whales. Not sure if they’re juveniles or females.
September 17th
We went to Doe Bay to soak and sweat. The tubs weren’t too crowded and there was almost no one in the sauna. We paid $30 each for three hours at the spa. Amazing. We met a retired couple — John and Kelly — who had taken up sailing after their kids left home. They live in Spokane and moor their 34’ boat in Anacortes. That’s one way to swing retirement.
September 18th
The slack in Obstruction Pass wasn’t until noon, so we had a slow, lazy morning, launching at 11 am and cruising the shoreline to waste time before crossing through the pass, which turned out to be quite busy. In the 15 minutes it took us to traverse the waterway, we encountered at least a dozen boats doing the same thing. I guess we weren’t the only ones waiting on the slack.
We stopped at Blakely Marina on the north end of Blakeley Island, just inside Obstruction Pass. I had read about the marina, but we had never visited it. As I walked up to the store, I felt something wiggling inside of my booty. I took it off and out popped this.
A rock isopod, or rock louse. It must have crawled in on Doe Island when my booties were drying.
The Blakeley Marina store is a cute little joint with a sturdy wooden bar and a soda fountain feel. It’s owned by a young couple who live upstairs. They just had their first kid, born the week before they opened this season. The husband worked at the counter, while his wife worked in the kitchen. He said it was his dream job, but he admitted that he didn’t get much time off in the summer. Check that: he said it was 24-7, and his sleep-deprived look corroborated his tale.
I asked what it was like to live on the island. He said it was great, and the people were all very nice, even though many of them are filthy rich (my words, not his). As he put it, “It’s better to be rich than rich and famous.” I assured him that if I ever get to make that choice, I’ll keep his wisdom in mind.
That night we camped at Odlin County Park. It was the first time visiting in kayaks or otherwise. We met some paddlers on Jones who had stayed at Odlin and said it was “civilized”. We had no idea what that meant until we pulled up. It’s crowded. Unlike Jones or Doe Island, you can drive to Odlin, and man, there were lots of cars and campers. Bike packers too. Actually, the bike campsites were awesome, tucked in the trees and very secluded. Odlin will not be on our list of kayak destinations, but we would definitely go there on a bike trip.
The park does have a nice sandy beach, which is rare in the San Juans, with west-facing views, which gave us a great sunset over Shaw Island. We played our own version of horseshoes with Douglas fir cones.
But then, of course, we got sand all over everything. The tent. The food. Sleeping bags. Freakin’ sand.
September 19th
Oh, life by ferry. We had to be in line by 11:30 am for the 12:15 pm ferry, so we awoke at six and were on the water by seven to make it to Deer Harbor by ten, which would give us enough time to get the car, pack the gear, load the boats and drive to the terminal. Turns out we caught the currents perfectly and paddled the 10 miles from Odlin to Deer Harbor in just over two hours. Having some time to kill, we went to East Sound for some shopping and one last stop and Brown Bear Bakery. We ate our smoked salmon quiche and almond croissants in the car and then crashed out for a nap on the ride back to Anacortes.
We spent the rest of the weekend with friends and family at Washington Park in Anacortes. What a great place! The shoreline is perfect for exploring; it has miles of forested trails, and the views of the islands are stunning. But the best part was being with our people. A week on our own was lovely, but at the end of the day, there’s nothing better than being with the ones you love.
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