The most famous relics of Puget Sound’s nineteenth-century harbor defenses are the three large forts of the Triangle of Fire, a terrific kayaking destination. Less well known but more of an adventure to visit by kayak is Fort Whitman on Goat Island, guardian of the back door to the sound. Together, these forts comprised the primary components of the defense against an enemy fleet.
The defense system’s secondary components were sited just outside Bremerton, then as now a major navy base. Here, Fort Ward on Bainbridge Island and a subsidiary installation on the mainland at Middle Point formed a last line of defense. If an enemy fleet survived the gun lines to the north, Fort Ward and Middle Point stood ready to blast the ships out of the water using electrically fired, underwater mines.
Today, the waters of Puget Sound are mostly free of mines. Fort Ward and Middle Point are now both parks, accessible by land but with special campsites reserved just for kayakers. I paddled out from Seattle for an overnight visit.
Route map. Currents can run nearly five knots between Fort Ward and Middle Point, but I was fortunate to hit them at only half that speed.
Springtime had come to the Pacific Northwest. With the arrival of longer days and warmer temperatures, most of the seabirds and waterfowl that winter on Puget Sound had departed for their breeding grounds.
Some of these species nest on the outer coast, some nest in the arctic, and some nest inland on freshwater lakes or forests. Few seabird or waterfowl species nest in Puget Sound. As a result, each year between April and August, we experience something of a seabird desert.
Still, even now in mid-April, not quite all the birds had departed. I encountered surf scoters, pelagic cormorants, harlequin ducks, horned grebes, red-necked grebes, and a handful of pigeon guillemots. A few buffleheads and common goldeneyes were still lingering, as was a single, immature, male black scoter, a surprising find this late in the season.
The cormorants had all completed their transition from winter plumage to breeding plumage. The grebes had all nearly completed theirs. Three of the four pigeon guillemots had completed their transition, but the fourth guillemot was still in its full, white winter plumage.
Kayaking across Puget Sound. Kitsap Peninsula to the left, Bainbridge Island to the right, Olympic Mountains in the background.
Alki Point lighthouse seen from south. Alki Point is prominent from the north and south but obscured from the west.
Horned grebe breeding plumage. In fall and winter, this species is usually quite approachable, but it becomes shyer during the breeding season.
Steller sea lions off Bainbridge Island. These individuals were so habituated to boats they paid me no mind.
Harlequin ducks at Beans Point, Bainbridge Island. The females’ mottled plumage is perfectly adapted for camouflage among the rocks.
Fort Ward was formerly a state park but is now a municipal park of Bainbridge Island. The park is day-use only except for a single campsite reserved for kayakers only. The park consists of a long, shaded, paved road along the beach, as well as some forested uplands. There are small, three-inch and five-inch gun batteries along the beach and a larger, eight-inch battery up the slope on private property.
Middle Point is still a state park, part of the larger Manchester State Park. Originally, Middle Point housed the naval mines and mine-control station, while Fort Ward protected the minefield with its guns. In 1910, the mine storage and control mission was transferred to Fort Ward, and the mine facilities at Middle Point were repurposed.
There are a lot more hiking opportunities at Middle Point. Even though there were more visitors here than at Fort Ward, Middle Point felt less crowded because it is a larger park. There is a car-campground in the upper part of the park, but the kayakers-only campground is down near the water, isolated from the noise and crowds.
Battery Vinton, Fort Ward. One of the three-inch gun batteries along the shore.
Mines outside Middle Point torpedo storehouse. I tried kicking the mines to see if they would explode, but it appears State Parks has disarmed them.
Inside Middle Point torpedo storehouse. The building was constructed to store mines in 1901 only for the mines to be moved out to Fort Ward in 1910, proof that military boondoggles have a lengthy pedigree in the United States.
Battery Mitchell, Middle Point. This battery was intended to house additional guns to protect the minefield from interference by enemy boats, but the guns were never installed.
On my way back across the sound to Seattle the next morning, I swung north to Blakely Rock, a tiny islet of public land. The rock is nearly awash at high tide, but at low tide, a lovely sand and shell beach emerges, perfect for picnicking.
Harbor seals, dunlin, black turnstones, and a lone bald eagle occupied the rocky portions of the island, but the birds and animals left enough room on the beach for me to pull ashore for a leisurely lunch in the sun.
Secretly, I was hoping to find space for a tent on Blakely Rock, so I could use it as a private campsite on some future trip, solitude guaranteed. Unfortunately, the only flat parts of the island submerge at high tide, so it is suitable only for day visits.
In 2013, a local artist installed a twelve-foot-tall statue on Blakely Rock without permission. I had heard about this thing but never seen it. I don’t normally approve of artistic installations in the wild, so upon my arrival at Blakely Rock, I was gratified to discover the statue was gone.
It turns out the statue toppled over—or was pushed—less than a year after its installation. It must have been the harbor seals who took it down.
Harbor seal asleep at Restoration Point, Bainbridge Island. Thanks to my approach from downwind, the sleeping seal did not hear or smell me until I was quite close.
Pigeon guillemot at Restoration Point. This was the only seabird I encountered still completely in its winter plumage. It’s springtime, buddy, time to put on new feathers!
Kayaking to Blakely Rock. Onshore flow, a common phenomenon in the warmer seasons, kicked up a little chop in Puget Sound but not enough that I felt the need for a drysuit.
Reading on Blakely Rock. A rare opportunity to be alone in the middle of densely populated Puget Sound.
Despite being such a short trip so close to home, this paddle offered a little of everything that is important about kayaking: wildlife encounters, quiet campsites, lonely islands, and a little bit of history.
—Alex Sidles