A Quiet Late-Summer Interlude

Our Travel Columnist ponders some marriage-savers that make for smoother sailing on a small boat.

You may have heard the definition of sailing, as penned by one witty writer, as being: "the slowest, most expensive and uncomfortable way to travel third class." Having been stuck in the boatyard doing repairs through most of our planned vacation time—that covered both the slow and expensive part—Russel and I finally got the boat into the water at the end of July. Though we’d planned a summer-long cruise, we knew that three weeks on board a sailboat in the San Juan Islands would still be a glorious gift, so we purposefully banned all talk of previous expectations, and headed out to enjoy the end of summer.

That first morning we left the marina in Port Townsend in a dense fog so we stopped at a favorite spot at nearby Fort Worden State Park. We’d purchased a State Park Mooring Permit for our boat, so all we had to do was pick up the chain on an empty mooring ball, fasten our mooring line to it, and we’d be done for the day.

Before I went up on deck, Russel handed me one of a pair of new headset walkie-talkies called “marriage savers,” for use during mooring or anchoring. Always looking for the best sailing technology for us, he’d researched the best kind of communication devices, so we could avoid yelling at each other (it is a fact that yelling out of necessity leads to irritation and more yelling, which can lead to silly arguments). I’d doubted how useful the headsets would be, but quickly saw how nice it was to be able to stand far up on the bow with my mooring-grabber pole while he was at the wheel and direct him to the ball without shouting.

The next day we motored across the Strait in calm but lumpy seas. Russel let me take the wheel because he knows I can get seasick in that sort of cross-sea and driving helps me. Finally, the conditions improved and we sailed up to Spencer Spit, at the north end of Lopez Island. Lopez Island, at thirty square miles, is one of the largest of the San Juan Islands, only Orcas Island and San Juan Island itself are larger. It is mostly farmland, surrounded by gorgeous rocky bays and beaches. One of the best known of these beaches is Spencer Spit State Park. The beach—you guessed it, is a long spit that almost joins the state park to steep rocky Frost island.

On any given day during boating season—meaning late spring, summer, and early fall—the spit will be surrounded by sailboats and powerboats, half at anchor and the rest on one of the park’s mooring balls. People also come from the town across the island (confusingly also called Lopez Island) to the state park’s beaches and hiking paths. I like Spencer Spit, not only for its simple beauty, but because the anchorage is calm and protected, so there’s little movement in the boat, except for the slight bouncing when the wakes from passing ferries tips us side to side. Of course, as with any mooring situation, there’s the time in the night when the tide and currents switch and the ball comes tap-tap-tapping along the bow, which always wakes us both up.

The next morning, we got up and out in the dinghy right after breakfast (earlier than he’d prefer, but a bit later than I’d have gone on my own) and explored the park on foot, walking past the small lagoon out to the tip of the spit and back, then strolling up the dirt road and meandering out a leafy forest path to another vista point where yet another footpath wound back down to the sand. Massive pieces of bleached driftwood logs lay in heaps beside the lagoon and along the south side of the spit, like piles of giant Jenga pieces. Colorful kayaks illuminated the gray and tan beach, spawn of the rental booth that provides one- and two-person kayaks and SUPs. I’d kayaked on our last visit, and didn’t feel motivated to do more than ramble on foot.

When we left Spencer Spit three days later we sailed up to Shaw Island and anchored in Blind Bay on the north side of the island, across from Orcas Island. The ferries run up and down that channel frequently, along with plenty of pleasure craft and fishing boats, which makes it challenging to navigate. But the islands are “steep to” as mariners say, meaning the land drops off abruptly to deep water, so you can keep your vessel close to which ever side you find yourself on when a huge Washington State Ferry goes by.

We motored in to find that all the state park mooring balls off Blind Island State Park were taken, so we anchored in the middle of the big bay. With my new headset on, it was very nice to be able to talk quietly to Russel instead of yelling from the cockpit while we debated what spot would be the perfect place, and while he dropped the anchor and I backed up the boat to set the anchor in the bottom. Not long after that, a couple came in to anchor and I had to laugh at how much they yelled back and forth in the process. Now I was feeling smug about our quiet communication.

Another headset that has been a “marriage saver” is Russel’s noise-canceling earphones by Bose. One reason is he likes to listen to music all day—even when writing and working—and watch intense aviation videos, while I do frequent Zoom calls, listen to podcasts, and even play games with sound effects. The bottom line is we all need alone time, or at least time to feel alone, to avoid maxing out on together time, and imposing quiet time allows us to do that on a small boat.\

The bottom line is we all need alone time, or at least time to feel alone, to avoid maxing out on together time, and imposing quiet time allows us to do that on a small boat.

Blind Island State Park, at two acres, may be the smallest state park in Washington. We dinghied over to see it the next morning, beaching our dinghy on the tiny beach while we hiked up the single hill to see the view of the strait and the bay and then back down to the single beach (yes, our Portland Pudgy dinghy is named Peep).

I need to walk every day and Russel often joins me, unless he can bike or row instead. The next morning he said he’d drop me off to walk, because the bay’s waterfront is private. He rowed me to shore where three signs declared PRIVATE BEACH, NO TRESPASSING. I couldn’t spot anywhere to cross the beach to get to the public road and, envisioning a confrontation with an angry homeowner, I was ready to give up. But Russel spotted a man working on his own private dock and rowed us over. After I very politely explained the situation to the guy, he very nicely said I could cross his property to the road and I thanked him with a big smile. I thanked Russel as he rowed us toward the beach, saying I would never have approached the man on the dock, and he laughed, saying, “We’re a good team, because I never would have asked him so nicely!”

Once ashore, I put on my sneakers, waved goodbye to Russel and walked off. The quiet road passed apple orchards and small farms, and I enjoyed taking photos and stretching my legs. An SUV passed me and braked, clearly waiting for me to come up beside it. It was the young man from the dock and a smiling woman who asked if I wanted a ride to town which I gratefully declined. When I reached the muddy tidelands at the end of the bay I spotted Russel rowing toward me. I waved and kept walking, knowing he prefers to row with no passenger. He picked me up from a gravel beach by the boat, still grousing on my behalf about private beaches.

The next day we visited the tiny settlement, basically the 100-year-old Shaw Island General Store and the ferry landing. Bike riders and kayakers come by ferry to explore Shaw Island, and plenty more tourists come by car and return to Friday Harbor or Anacortes on an afternoon ferry after a cone of Lopez Island Creamery ice cream from the General Store or a local beer at the handy Captain’s Bar by the landing. After we poked around the place, Russel said, “Come on, I know you’re dying to take a longer walk,” which was true. We strolled along the tree-lined road quite a ways, and talked to a friendly woman out mowing a large property. Later, stopping to take a photo, I saw Russel framing the same shot: brick-red madrone trunks against blue sky.

That night, the top of our boat’s dining table came off before dinner. We’d noticed a few screws lying on the floor the previous day, but couldn’t figure out where they were from. Russel had just the right replacement screws to fasten the table back onto its base, and it was soon back in action.

Heading west from Shaw and through the small scattered islands at the tip of San Juan Island led us to Stuart Island where we anchored in Prevost Harbor at Stuart Island State Park (the mooring balls were taken, again, and we did put down the anchor quite peacefully again). We took a short stroll the next day which just whetted my appetite for a real hike. I pointed out the Turn Point Lighthouse out on the point, but Russel and his knees balked at the idea of an 8-mile round trip. We compromised on motoring the dinghy to the County dock the next morning and hiking out to the lighthouse from there. The hike was longer than he would have liked, with a lot of knee-testing downhill stretches, but the views of the east coast of Vancouver Island were worth it.

Roche Harbor, located at the northwest corner of San Juan Island, is the first spot many Canadian boaters reach when coming from Victoria or Sydney. The Customs office is right on the dock in the marina, beside a waterside fish market. We’d visited Roche Harbor before and loved it—my favorite parts were the incredible sculpture park and simply strolling the long waterfront, admiring the historic buildings of the Roche Harbor Resort. Original poems are posted in many locations, a very cool touch.

Friday Harbor, the larger town on San Juan Island has plenty of waterfront seafood dining options and a plethora of shopping opportunities, including an incredible lavender store and a sweet little wine shop that both feature local products. I loved taking the round-the-island tour bus from one of the two companies near the ferry landing. You can get on and off the bus to see the lighthouse which we did, or visit a winery, which we didn’t, and gave me a sense of the island’s history. The bus drivers know everything there is to know and are very friendly.

There’s so much to see and do in the San Juan Islands, whether you visit by car or by boat, and I am so lucky to get to explore the islands and beaches with my favorite traveling companion and all-around good guy, who’s always a lot of fun—and so very handy to have around.

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