It’s a Small World

Rob’s were stirring long before us. The wind forecast looked lousy so we’d grabbed the chance to sleep past sunrise. Otters and seals played in the mirror like water, and our hearts were full of optimism that soon we’d see whales playing too. After all, the hand drawn maps we’d picked up on shore had a spot to the west of the island that clearly said “Here Be Whales” in a delicious ancient script.

The plan was to end up across the Strait at the John Wayne Marina at Sequim for night. It’s a little more than 30 miles across the open water, so not a big day. We figured we had time to explore some more of the San Juans, and then head across later in the day when the wind was supposed to pick up a little.

Avoiding the “frequently hit rocks” on the chart supplied by the Charter, we wound our way among the islands. There is an endless bounty to look at, like birds, porpoises, otters, seals, other boats, ferries and seaplanes. Also currents. We were happily sailing along sans motor (yes, there was wind!) when we suddenly did an abrupt course change. We’re talking a good 90* shift. Interesting, but mildly disturbing as we were now on a course headed straight for a beach. Good thing the boat motor was more reliable than the dinghy motor, or we’d have had a bit of explaining to do to Anacortes Yacht Charters.

After navigating our way through the squirley Wasp Passage, we dropped anchor and went to visit Yellow Island, an 11 acre nature conservancy that was full of fascinating discoveries. There is a 1949 cabin built almost exclusively out of rocks and whatever timber washed up on the beach. The whole cost of the project was $300, and that was mostly the windows. It has remained largely unaltered, and judging from what you can see through the windows, it seems to be inhabited.

The spring flowers were a carpet of color, and we explored the whole island. It was low tide, so we could walk out and see the squishy kelp balls, peek under rocks to uncover fat orange worms that peed like a fountain when you touched them, scare the shy crabs and watch the busy life in the tide pools. Avril was fascinated by the short pieces of rebar stuck into the rock, but we never got any answers. There was an otter family playing on the rocks and some stray kayakers on the pebble beach. Signs said we shouldn’t forage or pick anything, but some rocks dropped in my pockets while Avril looked on disapprovingly. But who do you think wore a shocked expression several hours later when she dug in her own pockets? Yes. Avril had stolen rocks as well. Clearly her disapproval was only in my less than subtle ways, not in the crime itself. Perhaps I gathered a few tips and pointers, just like people do when they go to jail.

And then it was time to make the passage. The wind wasn’t doing at all what all the forecasts said it would do, and instead we had a flat calm. Oh well, roll with the punches. Perhaps we’d see whales. We looked and looked and looked till the horizon and waves and the greebs all started to appear whale like. 1000 false alarms were raised, and a 1000 times our hopes were dashed. The occasional ship passing in the channel was a nice distraction, and Rob and Avril would try to bet on if we would pass in front or in stern of them. Avril’s cheerful shouts of “I WON, I WON, I knew you’d be right” helped keep things spicy. We resurrected the broken cockpit table and had several tea parties, cause one must be amused at sea. The memories of sitting around that wobbly table, held up by the wimpiest stick you ever did see, discussing which cheese paired best with which fig, and holding a good hot cuppa are truly epic. A bit of celebratory homemade ginger beer was shared as well, and we all told long stories about our lives.

Thanks to being held up by powerful currents just West of San Juan Island, the sun had set by the time we entered the John Wayne Marina channel. It’s a bit of a tricky run, with only a narrow deep part surrounded by shallows. You must pay attention to the buoys, or you will be in for a nasty surprise. Avril helmed us in while Rob bit his nails, Heath stood behind her to encourage and I drank in the beauty of the shoreline and chuckled over the squiggly line our boat was making on my phone navigation. We eased up to the dock without a hitch and were met by Kyle and Lynette and co, who would drive Rob’s home.

Our bed felt marvelous. A boat sleeps so well, as it gently rocks you. Seals swam around, checking us out, and all was quiet, safe and cozy. And so ended a day I sincerely hope I never forget.