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Sampling the San Juan Islands
Frederick News-Post, February 25, 2007
As the ferry pulls away from Anacortes, I stare out the rain-smeared window, disappointed but not surprised. Rain is a trademark of the Pacific Northwest, but since the San Juan Islands offer an abundance of outdoor pursuits, I was hoping for nice weather. With only a weekend--just long enough to explore one of the four islands in the San Juans served by the Washington State Ferries--my husband and I don't have time for rain. Fortunately by the time our ferry pulls into Friday Harbor, the main town of San Juan Island and the only incorporated town in the islands, blue skies have chased away the grey clouds. There is clearly some credence to the claim that the islands average 247 days of sunshine a year and receive only half the rain of nearby Seattle.
Well-to-do but low-key (I joke to my husband that the island uniform is jeans, a fleece, and sandals, probably purchased at REI), the islands have broad appeal. Bikers come to climb up and then race down the islands' many hills. Kayakers ply the waters, seeking out wildlife by day and camping under the stars by night. And others with less specialized interests file off the ferry to sample the many delights of these emerald gems. As samplers ourselves, our itinerary includes a winery, an outdoor sculpture park, a dinner of regional specialties, a sunset kayaking trip, and a stake-out for the island's most famous residents--orca whales. It will be busy, but here in the San Juans, it will still somehow manage to be relaxing.
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Comfortable is the first word I think of when I try to characterize San Juan. Bits of it are quirky. Parts of it are almost quaint. Century-old chapels and luxury yachts, historic army camps and eco-friendly farms. What seems like it would be in conflict anywhere else, fits easily together here.
One of the first places we visit is the Westcott Bay Sculpture Park, an outdoor display of over one hundred artworks. Works of stone, wood, clay, and metal are scattered over nineteen acres, each piece complementing rather than competing with the natural scenery of meadow, lake, forest, and wetland. The pieces--many of which are formed from elements of the earth--seem as if they grew up here along with the tall grasses and trees. Pillared wooden sculptures resemble abstract, polished totem poles, and a silver windwheel spins in the breeze, scattering sunlight and tinkling lightly with each turn. Our favorite piece is one that baffles us at first: a large mirror resting on a wooden easel. "Art?" we wonder. "Art, of course," we decide as we peer into the mirror, which reflects a cerulean sky, pillow clouds, and a madrona tree, whose burnt orange bark is curling away to reveal pistachio colored wood.
Across the road from this thoroughly modern park is one of the most historic areas of the island--Roche Harbor. Serving as the centerpiece is the Hotel Haro, a three-story gleaming white hotel with a porch that wraps around the building and a guestbook that includes the signatures of Theodore Roosevelt and John Wayne. If you can raise yourself out of the lounge chairs on the hotel's porch, there's a lot more to be enjoyed. A ramble through the garden--luscious, fragrant, and boldly colorful--leads toward Our Lady of Good Voyage, a century-old chapel perched on a rocky crag. We can feel the history of generations of families praying for the safe return of loved ones at sea. Then, venturing inside, we realize that the church is not just historical but also belongs to the present: the remembrances of a recent wedding are scattered throughout--flowers on the altar, a stray program in a pew. The harbor, too, attests to the vitality of the area with luxury yachts filling nearly every slip. Yet mixed in are a few small, brightly painted fishing boats. In order to better take in the scene, we grab crab quesadillas and clam chowder from the Lime Kiln Cafe and eat at picnic tables outside.
The island's bounty is indisputable, and making the most of it is how many of the locals make their living. Pelindaba Lavendar Farms, a model of sustainable agriculture, evolved from owners Susan and Stephen Robins desire to preserve the land they owned after deciding to build a home elsewhere. They wanted to prevent development but simultaneously provide employment opportunities for islanders and create a destination for visitors. They've succeeded on all counts. We're drawn in by the carpet of purple that is literally abuzz thanks to the legions of bees doing the work of pollination. It's a feast for all the senses, and the gift shop makes us debate just how we prefer our lavender: as a scent encapsulated in soaps and sachets, as a taste captured in cookies and lemonades, or as a visual pleasure displayed in earrings and wreaths.
San Juan Vineyards is another local agribusiness we find worthy of a stop. Ten varieties of wine are produced at the vineyard, with two light whites--Madeleine Angevine and Siegerrebe--produced from grapes grown on the island. In a renovated one-room school house (chalkboards still hung on the walls), we sample the wares. I prefer the reds, my husband the whites. We end up going with the Siegerrebe, as it is the vineyard's specialty and an award winner. We contemplate drinking it on the schoolhouse's porch in the company of the resident dog and cat, but we decide against it as dinner awaits us at the Duck Soup Inn. Focusing on regional specialties, the Inn grows the herbs, fruits, vegetables, and edible flowers used in the restaurant's dishes in a garden right outside. Everything on the menu tempts, but the one thing we're certain about is the apple-wood smoked oysters fresh from the island's Westcott Bay. Slightly salty and perfectly smoky, each bite is a study in complementing contrasts.
At night, we settle in to the Juniper Lane Guesthouse, an establishment just as unique to the island as the sites we've visited during the day. Part boutique hotel, part hostel, the guesthouse has a combination of private rooms (three doubles and two family-sized rooms) and communal space (a living area, kitchen, and patio), all of which is decorated with richly colored paint, wood, and tile. Built, established, and run by island native Juniper Maas, the entire house reflects the personality of the San Juans--eco-friendly, luxurious, and most of all, comfortable.
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The uniting desire of the majority of visitors to the San Juan Islands is the desire to see orcas. The Puget Sound waters off the islands' coasts are home to three resident pods--J, K, and L--that are composed of approximately eighty whales in total. Transient orcas often raise that number, and during the summer months, the chances of spotting an orca are high. Multi-day kayak trips or half-day trips on whale watching boats provide an opportunity to seek out the whales. But the San Juans are unique in that they are one of only a few places where orcas can be seen from land. However, even with the many whales in residence, spotting an orca still requires an element of luck, as the whales are able to travel over 100 miles a day in search of food.
We're told most sightings occur in the morning, so we head out early to Lime Kiln Point State Park, one of the best locations for spotting whales on San Juan. In addition to being a prime location for viewing, Lime Kiln Point is a great stop for anyone in search of the orcas, because a team of employees and volunteers tracks the three pods, providing visitors with information on when and where the whales were last spotted and estimating when they might be coming by the park. Upon arrival, we learn that the nearest pod is south of us, but the park has more to offer than whales, so we linger there.
While munching our breakfast, we spot a repeated splashing offshore, so we quickly bring our binoculars to our eyes, hoping that maybe a transient whale is passing by. What we see is black and white, but when the animal leaps, we realize that it's a harbor porpoise and not an orca. Our disappointment is softened by the antics of the porpoise, which seems intent on entertaining us with an acrobatic show. Once the porpoise decides to move on, we go for a walk, taking in the lighthouse and the historic kiln for which the park is named.
Determined to find the orcas, we leave the park and head as far south on the island as we can. We're waylaid by the interesting visitors center at San Juan Island National Historical Park, where we learn about the Pig War of 1859, in which American and British troops almost came to blows over the killing of a pig. This "war," in which the pig was the only casualty, was emblematic of the struggle for ownership of the islands. Although the 1846 Treaty of Oregon established that the area of the Pacific Northwest below the 49th parallel belonged to the United States, the San Juan Islands, which lie almost exactly at that parallel, weren't officially determined to be American property until 1872.
When we make it down to South Beach, a little more knowledgeable of American history than we were before, we see a whale watch boat a bit offshore and wonder if it has come across a pod. But no such luck. There isn't an orca to be found, but the beach is nice, and we enjoy a snack of fresh Rainier cherries as we skip rocks.
With the sun sinking, it seems that our last shot at seeing orcas is on a sunset kayak trip we've booked with Crystal Seas. The trip leaves from the same side of the island as Lime Kiln Point, so we decide to leave early and stop at the park, trying to max out our chances of glimpsing the island's star residents. We never make it to the park, however. As my husband drives, I scan the water, and a few miles south of the park, I see a large splash not far offshore. We pull onto the side of the road, and sure enough, one of the pods is right in front of us. We can hear them exhale forcefully through their blowholes, and with the naked eye, we're able to count at least twelve orcas, their smooth black and white skin making them unmistakable. Sometimes we see just a fin, other times the entire body as the whales breach. Through our binoculars we get close-up views of these majestic giants. We're so delighted by them that we only leave when we're afraid that we might miss our kayak trip.
Our launch site is too far north for us to run into the whales, but we don't mind, although the idea of an orca surfacing right beside our kayak is fantastic. We cover six miles in about three hours, and even without a whale spotting, our trip thrills. On land we spot six-point bucks and red foxes. A playful sea lion trails our kayaks as we paddle along the coast and through a kelp garden that makes maneuvering tricky. Our guide Zach convinces us to taste a bit of the seaweed. "It's good for you," he claims. It just seems salty to me. Immensely knowledgeable about his home island, Zach adds great value to our trip, regaling us with stories about the Native Americans who once spread nets all the way across the bay in order to catch loads of running fish and the smugglers who used to use the island's narrow bays to sneak high-tariff goods into the US from Canada. From the kayaks, we watch the sky turn the color of cotton candy and then paddle the last few strokes to the dock. There's no denying the beauty or the bounty of the San Juans.
If you go:
Juniper Lane Guesthouse
www.juniperlaneguesthouse.com
High season runs from May 15 to October 1 with rates ranging from $88 to $135 for double occupancy.
Duck Soup Inn
www.ducksoupinn.com
Dinner only. Menu changes frequently. Entrees range from $25 to $34.
Crystal Seas Kayaking
www.crystalseas.com
From April to October. A three-hour trip costs $59.
Washington State Ferries
www.wsdot.wa.gov/ferries
Fares are paid only on westbound trips. During peak season, passenger fare to Friday Harbor is $12.80, vehicle (plus driver) fare is $49.85.
A good general guide to the islands, with information on lodging, sites, and activities can be found at www.guidetosanjuans.com
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