Early Spring in the San Juan Islands: Heading North

Part Two: Having quickly resolved our hydraulic system problems, the crew of Indiscretion heads north for the San Juan Islands.

After departing Shilshole Marina, we arrive at Port Ludlow and spend the night at anchor to cross the Strait of Juan de Fuca with the tide in the morning. Weather on the Strait can be unsettled this time of year, but we have a nice window before a storm arrives on Sunday. This is our second visit to Port Ludlow and each time we wish we had more time to explore this lovely, protected bay.

The crossing of the Strait is uneventful — just lumpy. High winds the night before leave behind a confused sea that has our stabilizers flapping this way and that to keep us on an even keel. I make more than a few trips to the engine room during the crossing to ensure the hydraulic system hasn’t sprung any new leaks. We’re steering for Roche Harbor, so we take the more exposed route through Haro Strait, hoping we might see whales again near Lime Kiln Point. No whales this trip, unfortunately.

Roche Harbor and Gale Force Winds

As we weave our way through Mosquito Pass, we marvel at the empty bays. Not a single boat occupies Westcott Bay or Garrison Bay, and just one lonely sailboat sits at anchor in all of Roche Harbor as we make our approach to the marina. What an incredible change from our visit last September when anchored boats choked all three of these popular destinations.

Guest moorage at Roche Harbor can be challenging to obtain in the summer months, but we have our choice of a number of open slips on the old guest dock. We pick a slip that could easily accommodate a mega-yacht deep inside the marina. The dock is so high we need to disembark from the starboard side rail. Indiscretion looks tiny in this gigantic berth, but we like how close we are to the top of the dock.

On the morning of the storm, we treat ourselves to freshly baked donuts from the Lime Kiln Café, followed by a hike to the Mausoleum in the wind and rain. Despite many trips to Roche Harbor, we had never made the trek. We time our visit with the ringing of the bells from the Roche Harbor Church on this Sunday morning. A solemn dirge drifts through the forest as we take in these sacred grounds. I can’t imagine a more peaceful place of eternal rest than this magical spot, dappled by sunlight, in a forest by the sea.

We continue our walk in search of a famed isthmus that the guidebooks suggest is just a mile past the mausoleum. We ignore road signs that proclaim the road ahead is restricted to property owners and guests. About a quarter-mile in, I start to feel nervous. We are almost certainly trespassing as we walk by mansion after mansion along this private road. More signs remind us of our ingress. We later discover we each made up a different name of the family we were supposedly visiting in case we were stopped.

As we took in a spectacular seaside estate, I turn to Lisa. “If we were black, would we dare take this walk?” She shakes her head and we talk though this blatant inequality. A black man and woman walking down this country lane would almost certainly be noticed. We exchange waves and smiles with the locals as we make our way past these beautiful homes. I feel shitty about the racial privilege we take for granted and get a glimpse of what it must feel like all the time to be black in this part of the country. We are both unsettled.

We take the long way back to the marina to avoid further trespassing and end up on a gravel and dirt road the carries on up and up through dense woods for some long while in the rain before descending again past the airport and back to the harbor.

After the morning rain subsides, we take the dogs for a walk up the hill to the off-leash dog park. Franklin is a Puggle who simply can’t be trusted off-leash. One interesting smell and he’s gone, no matter how emphatically we implore him to return. Both dogs enjoy stretching their legs around the large park, but soon Frank begins a systematic search of the perimeter for a way to freedom. Sigh.

We return to the boat as the wind builds for storm watch. The marina is well protected from south winds, so there isn’t much drama. We get some hail and lots of shifting and swaying boats. A friend anchored in Prevost Harbor reports 40 knot winds, but the highest gust we see is far below that. It’s nice to watch it all from the security of the dock, all warm and cozy in the panoramic pilothouse.

Reid Harbor on Stuart Island

We depart Roche Harbor the next morning for a short trip to Reid Harbor on Stuart Island. We motor slowly through the empty anchorage and vacant mooring buoys. Two small boats occupy the main dock, so we head for the floating dock. A north wind blows the boat off the dock as Lisa struggles with securing mooring lines to the bull rail.  We neglect to don our headsets, so there may or may not have been some unfortunate curse words that carried over the quiet bay as we made fast (by the end of our trip, Lisa ties up to bull rails like a cowboy in a rodeo). 

Within a couple of hours, the main dock itself is vacant, and we have the entire bay to ourselves.

We stay three full days at Stuart Island, establishing a pattern that would stick with us throughout our cruise. While most parks limit your stay to three days, this feels like the perfect amount of time to settle in and really see a place without feeling hurried.

Our first night on Stuart is magical. All is calm. The water reflects the hillside in near-perfect clarity. The sun sets against the backdrop of the western shore of the harbor. I put Linda Ronstadt’s Round Midnight on the boat’s stereo as the wonderful smells of Lisa’s cooking waft through the boat. I feel the stress of the journey sloughing off me, and something more: a warmth welling up inside me of peace, bordering on joy. We enjoy a fabulous meal and good red wine in the salon, taking in the beautiful evening, grinning at one another as if we’d just won the lottery.

We tied up to the disconnected float in Reid Harbor instead of the dock because of our two dogs. Since there’s no access to shore, the dogs have free rein of the float for as long as no other boats join us. We had this romantic notion that the dogs might pee on the dock in the wee hours of morning and night instead of demanding us to take them ashore in the tender. They do race down the dock to chase off the cackling geese that dare to waddle too close to us, but alas, they fail to consider this 100-foot dock as a suitable place to pee, despite all forms of coaxing. Their dog-logic must consider the dock as part of the boat and thus off limits. Oh well.

The weather remains sunny and calm throughout our stay. I use the float to launch and land our drone for some aerial views of the bay, but my flying skills need a lot of work.

We criss-cross the island on hikes, taking in amazing vistas and getting exercise in the process. We make the six-mile round-trip hike to the lighthouse on the western edge of Stuart. It feels like we have the whole island to ourselves.

Our final night in Reid Harbor finds us lacking some important essentials. A trip in the tender to Roche Harbor would take just 15 minutes, but would involve crossing a pretty wide expanse of water in a small boat. The water inside Reid Harbor is glassy. After a little give and take with Lisa about the importance of beer on a boat, I make the trip alone in millpond-like conditions. I loved our sailing years and appreciate our trawler’s fuel economy and ocean capabilities, but I sure love going 25 knots every once in a while.

Keep reading for Part Three of our Early Spring Cruise in the San Juan Islands: Island Jewels.