Over Memorial Day weekend, Rachel and I took our kids, Maya and Leon, to Anderson Island in south Puget Sound. From the boat ramp at Luhr to the campsite at Carlson Bay, the crossing is about three miles (5 km) each way. It ended up being a little longer for me, in that I forgot half our food at the boat ramp, so I had to paddle back to retrieve it.
Route map. The ebb was moderately adverse during the northbound passage and moderately favorable during the southbound passage.
Carlson Bay on Anderson Island is primarily a day park, but there is a lone campsite available for reservation by kayakers only. Once the sun went down each day, we had the park all to ourselves.
The kids loved Anderson Island. The island is the perfect size for exploration by a two-year-old and a five-year-old. They wandered up and down the gravel spit, picking up beach treasures and making child-sized discoveries, unencumbered by adult supervision.
The most exciting event on the island is a phenomenon Maya named “the river.” Twice each day, a tidal lagoon behind the campsite fills on the flood tide and drains on the ebb. The inlet to the lagoon is a braided channel incised into the pebble beach. On a rising tide, the channel fills so rapidly a lengthening finger of water flows swiftly upward toward the lagoon. On a falling tide, the channel develops a current fast enough to race sticks downstream.
Launching kayaks at Luhr. Wind and current were mild at all times.
Rachel and Maya kayaking to Anderson Island. Rachel told dog stories until Maya fell asleep in the boat.
Maya kayaking. Nothing is more annoying than dad’s insistence on taking pictures all the time.
Maya asleep in kayak. The gentle rocking of the waves would put the grown-ups to sleep, too, if we didn’t have to paddle.
Double-crested cormorant, Nisqually River delta. Of Washington’s three cormorant species, the double-crested was the only one we saw during this trip.
Red-necked phalaropes, Nisqually Reach. We didn’t notice these tiny, pelagic shorebirds until we were almost on top of them.
Rachel and Maya kayaking along Anderson Island. We hugged the shore during the northbound crossing to minimize the adverse effects of the ebb.
One of the highlights of Anderson Island is the interpretive trail through the forest. The signage identifies just enough plant species to be satisfying without identifying so many as to be overwhelming. Two of the most helpful signs compare the clustered wild rose to the very similar baldhip rose. Thanks to the signage, I think I might now be able to distinguish these species in the field.
The most unusual species on Anderson Island is the Oregon ash. The field guides all say this species is found throughout Puget Sound, but the Anderson Island interpretive trail is the only place I have ever actually encountered it. The largest specimen is marked with a sign, but Rachel soon spotted several others in the forest nearby, including a sapling—a promising sign for the future.
Maya and Leon were less interested in Oregon ash and more interested in berries. The evergreen huckleberries and Himalayan blackberries were at peak ripeness. Rachel harvested great handfuls to feed the kids, and even little Leon got in on the action, perched on his dad’s shoulders to reach the highest, juiciest berries.
Campsite on Anderson Island. Lagoon to the left, Puget Sound to the right, and “the river” in the foreground, connecting the two at high tide.
Maya and Leon playing in the tent. Maya had her stuffed dogs, Leon had his monster truck and helicopter.
Rachel feeding Leon huckleberries. The huckleberries were a little small for Leon’s grasp, so he figured out a more efficient way to eat them.
Sunset, Anderson Island. A smattering of rain overnight kept things cool.
The dawn chorus on Anderson Island was a battle of the bands between seabirds and forest birds. Earliest and loudest were the glaucous-winged gulls, ravens, and crows, vying with one another to see which species could produce the harshest call. From the tall trees came the more melodic calls of the chestnut-backed chickadees and red-breasted nuthatches. The symphony’s high notes were played by ospreys, who circled above the lagoon on one side of the tent and Puget Sound on the other side.
Leon storming the beach, Anderson Island. Sometimes with his sister, sometimes with his parents, and sometimes alone, Leon roamed around the island.
Rachel, Maya, and Leon in the lagoon, Anderson Island. The fast-rising water nearly cut us off from camp.
Maya wading across “the river.” When Leon accidentally flooded his boots, Maya ran all the way back to camp to bring him his water shoes.
Rachel and Leon in the lagoon. These small, gravel islands disappeared beneath the rising water.
The only unpleasant aspect of Anderson Island was the yellowjackets. There must have been a nest somewhere on the spit, because our campsite was overrun. Each day, more and more wasps swarmed around the picnic table. By the afternoon of the third day, there were so many the campsite was unfit for human habitation. We ate our last lunch on the footbridge over the lagoon, where the wind and water protected us from the buzzing menace.
The yellowjackets were particularly attracted to our garbage bag. When it came time to leave, Rachel and the kids climbed into the kayaks with all the gear, ready for a hasty departure. I went back to camp alone and kicked the garbage bag until all the yellowjackets came boiling out. Crouching low, I darted into the swarm, snatched up the bag, and raced back to the beach. I flung the garbage bag into the kayak and frantically paddled out to sea. It is a miracle no one got stung.
Lichen, Anderson Island. The lichen on the logs forms its own miniature forest within a forest.
Driftwood, Anderson Island. Rachel noticed this intricate pattern, carved by worms, insects, and the heat of the sun.
Leon on footbridge, Anderson Island. A school of tiny fish sheltered under and around this bridge, perhaps to avoid the resident pair of kingfishers.
Rachel and Maya kayaking beneath Mount Rainier. On the way back, the favorable ebb made for a nearly effortless paddle.
My favorite part of camping on Anderson Island didn’t involve me at all. My favorite part was to let the kids roam wild, finding their own adventures in the outdoors. I can’t wait to see what they’ll come up with next.
—Alex Sidles