Taking ferries to the islands is like any other public transportation: the parking is expensive and the schedules are inconvenient. But on July 11, 2000, we met our guides from Crystal Seas Kayaking at Friday Harbor, San Juan Islands. We adopted Becky's daughter, Kelsey, for two weeks to keep Robbie sane (two weeks with his parents at age 14?), and the trip was just the four of us (maybe word got out about these two fourteen-year olds...).
First surprise: no wilderness. I had always heard about how fantastic the San Juans were, so being an eco-terrorist, I pictured wilderness. Wrong. Most land on the islands is privately owned. Every inch of beach has a summer home, a teepee, or a "trespassers will be drowned" sign. We stopped for lunch on a little island about the size of our living room with a nice view of ridiculously expensive summer homes.
Second surprise: big boats. We had to cross the channel to get to our campsite on Stuart Island, and that is where the ferry and the yachts and the sailboats and the speed boats -- well, you get the idea. There we are in our itty kayaks, about six inches above the water, and all around us are these BIG boats. They are supposed to slow down for us, but if you believe that, I've got some land in Southern Arizona I'd like to sell you.
We stayed closed together, and the guides seemed unperturbed, but I kept looking up at huge keels plowing our way and muttering, "Boat. Big boat. Heading right this way. BIG boat." The worst that ever happened was a lot of wake waves, so I guess the guides were right to be unperturbed.
We camped in a state park on Stuart Island, which has no electricity, no water, no nothing except summer homes and a few winter homes. Everything has to be brought in by boat or private plane. Brad and I had read 'A Boat in our Baggage' by a woman who lives in the San Juans where she brings in everything by kayak. We asked around about her, but she must be awfully good at hiding because no one knew anything. There is a little school with eight students, and they have a little museum about the malcontents who settled on the island so they didn't have to talk to anyone (sounds good to us).
The first evening we hiked out to the lighthouse on the other side of the island to see the sunset. The kids wanted to stay in camp and play cricket (Robbie's PE teacher is British), so we left them in camp and hiked two miles for a sunset ("I'd hike a mile for a sunset"). Just as it was getting cold and we started to leave, there was a "whoosh!" sound, and a pod of Orcas started playing right at our feet. They swam through the kelp, splashing and broaching and doing their Orca thing, while we went slightly nuts up on the bank. When we got back to camp we told the kids -- "Hey, you know that four mile hike you didn't want to go on? Guess what?"
Next morning the guides suggested a little paddle to the end of a neighboring island, and we suggested a long paddle around the island, so we did that. The water in the islands is fairly calm: no big waves like we saw in Newport when we took a kayaking class, but there are currents as the tide does its in and out thing. We had to paddle pretty hard in a few spots to get through little rapids and odd fast-moving streams where the tide meets the quiet water. We had lunch on Cemetery Island (no cemetery) at the entrance to the harbor we had camped in. It had a nice white beach made by seashells being pounded to pieces (they must get big waves sometime, eh?).
The kids were ready to go back then, but Brad and I wanted more paddling (naturally--we weren't near exhausted yet), so we headed out along the south side of the island. We could see the whale-watching boats in the channel. This is how you know where the Orcas are: the whale watching tours are swarming all around them. With my binoculars I could see some Orcas jumping. We were yelling to them to come our way, but they headed toward Canada.
That night we hiked around the state park, and that evening a storm moved in. It didn't rain, but the forecast was for wind and maybe rain, so we split the kids up, one with each adult, so we could power through the currents and the wind. All of our thumbs were getting sore because of the paddling, so some of us taped them up. Just call me "Silverthunbs".
Well, the storm abated, and the wind wasn't too bad. We stopped halfway across the channel to chow down on some kelp. It's pretty good: salty and slimy. Robbie and Kelsey took some home to share with their friends (so generous). We paddled on through the boats ("Big boat! Heading this way!") and stopped again on Posey Island for lunch. Just as we set up, a dozen Boy Scouts showed up to camp. The leader (wearing no life jacket, so what kind of a role model is he?) told us they were camping there, and he had another group coming over from Stuart, so don't get comfortable. Since we had already claimed the picnic table, I ignored him. Besides, I figured I could take him. Another group showed up for lunch and chowed down on the point. Posey is the only place boaters can stop, because of all the private land.
The guides drove us back to the ferry terminal, and Kelsey discovered she had forgotten her special stick. She and Robbie had found a cricket bat stick, and we had tied it to the front of the kayak and carried it all the way back across the channel and even through the Boy Scouts. So we had to call Crystal Seas and ask for the stick back, and the guides came by and handed it off as the ferry was pulling in.
Even with all the development, the wildlife we saw was amazing. We saw the Orcas, an Osprey hunting right next to the campground, dozens of Bald Eagles, and a mink struggling with a dead shark where the boats were parked. There were sea stars of every color sitting on rocks patiently waiting for the tide to come back in (like they have a choice). Islands full of seals lolling about in the sun (and losing their sunning rocks as the tide came in), and seals popping up out of the water to take a look at us ("Whoa, that is one ugly seal there!).
Next time I would kayak someplace where there are not as many people, but I still don't feel comfortable getting out into open ocean. I don't think I could handle waves bigger than I am. Brad and I decided that it was just as well we weren't reading "The Perfect Storm" while on the water. Maybe the Alaska Inside Passage next time. Their water is nice and cold, and it rains a lot there, too.