Apologies for my recent hiatus. Evidently, blogging bodes itself much more difficult when the extent of your computer and internet access is limited to a less than weak signal being received from a now outdated iPhone 4.
Over an extended four day weekend, I participated in a sailing* trip through the San Juan Islands. Aaron, Mike, Catherine and I set out Thursday morning, from Port Townsend, Washington, for what suggested to be the start of a frightening journey.
Thursday greeted us with gray clouds, rain, and fog so thick you could cut it with a knife. We were soaked and chilled to the bone before we even pulled anchor. With no wind to sail, we turned on the engine and began motoring, with no more than 20 feet visibility. Needless to say, my over-cautious self was verging on the cusp of a nervous breakdown, and Catherine's susceptibility to sea sickness was in full fledge. Most of this anxiety erupted when we entered the shipping lanes, with no way to tell if we were flying solo or seconds from colliding with a container ship. We made it through the shipping lane alive and well, where shortly after the fog began to clear, and my clenched fists slowly loosened.
Still no wind to catch in our sails, we continued motoring until we made it to Lopez Island. The grey sky seeped blue, and the sun's glow warmed the horizon line as we pulled into Fisherman's Bay. After dropping anchor and suiting up with backpacks and sleeping bags, we rowed to shore to find a place to camp. Unfortunately, high season in the San Juan Islands does not lend itself to travelers with small pocketbooks. We found campgrounds (if you can call them that - a large patch of grass neighboring a parking lot is not exactly my idea of camping) that cost $25 per couple. Outrageous! Irritated, tired, and cold, we set up camp in the dusk, and went to bed.
The morning greeted us with overcast skies, but no rain. To this we rejoiced, packed up and were on our way (only after stopping at a delightful bakery where we filled up on flaky, savory pastries.)
With no wind (again), we continued our sailing* trip, headed for Deer Harbor and Orcas Island. As we approached the harbor, the clouds began to break, and the bright sun warmed our chilled skin as we pulled up to the dock. Excited to use the facilities, we eagerly jumped off the boat and relieved ourselves. We set out on foot to explore the island, and enjoyed the picturesque nature that Orcas housed. As late morning turned into mid-afternoon, and plans of sailing* to San Juan Island before sundown were still included in our itinerary, we said our goodbyes to the beautiful island and ventured out once more.
Ready for this? There was wind. Actual, real wind. And to sweeten the pot? Sun! Warm, hot sunshine, mixed with cool, soft winds, strong enough to sail to, and gentle enough to bask in. To celebrate, we uncorked a bottle of wine, stripped down to shorts and tank tops, and made our way to San Juan Island, and Aaron's uncle's property on Roche Harbor.
We pulled up to the dock, tipsy and warm, and set up camp. Once set up, we walked into town where we filled our bellies with warm, savory food, ice cream, and played a bocce ball in a community courtyard. The evening brought us cool, sea-kissed air, a roaring fire, and good conversation. In the morning we would be visiting Sucia and Cypress Island.
The wind and sun were gone come morning, but the air was fairly warm as we motored our way to Sucia Island, a small island in the San Juan's that was home to no one, except the wildlife that dwelled in this enchanting park, and the campers who visited it. After touring a bit of the island and making our way back to the boat, the clouds parted, revealing a hot, late summer sun. Aaron, Mike and Catherine all jumped in the icy water to refresh their skin, but I, tending not to be the best at enduring the cold, stayed on board, living vicariously through them.
Everyone dried off, and we pulled anchor yet again, this time headed to our last campsite: Cypress Island.
On our journey to Cypress, we saw harbor porpoises and various sea birds, all illuminated by the shimmering water. The last leg of our journey greeted us with strong winds, and we sailed our way into Cypress. Cypress consists almost entirely of DNR land, except for a small strip of houses on the island's edge. Before rowing to shore, we made a dinner that consisted of whatever hodge-podge of hot food we had left on the boat. After warming and filling up, we grabbed our camping gear and headed for shore. The most beautiful of the islands, Cypress is secluded and nearly untouched.
Despite our stale exhaustion, we built a fire, filled up on beers, and chatted late into the night, before retiring to our tents. We would be leaving bright and early for our return to Port Townsend.
The sun gleamed gently in the morning, growing stronger with each passing hour. There was no lack of wind on our journey home, and we sailed almost the entire way. We made it passed the San Juans, through the shipping lanes, and in just a few, short hours, we were pulling up to Port Townsend.
Tired, weathered, hungry, and dirty, we were excited to be on land. What began as a frightening, stormy trip, turned into a great adventure, but never had the thought of my warm, soft bed been so inviting.
*most of the trip was spent motoring, but we were in a sailboat, so we'll just call it sailing anyway, right?
xo.
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