The Olympic Peninsula Paddlers invited me to give a talk on marine mammals in Sequim. As long as I was headed to the neighborhood anyway, I decided to do a little kayaking.
The November days were too short to paddle the bigger areas on the outer coast such as Cape Flattery or La Push, so I re-visited a favorite stretch of the Strait of de Fuca: the passage from Freshwater Bay to Crescent Bay and back.
Route map. Freshwater Bay is one of the better-protected launch points along the Strait of Juan de Fuca.
Surf was low, winds were calm, and rain was merely light and intermittent, which is all anyone can hope for in November. Just for fun, I cut between Observatory Point and the rock offshore, even though this gap is a shoal passage. Wave heights were under one foot (30 cm), so I was able to punch across the reef without too much risk of kissing the rocks.
View of Observatory Point with offshore rock. During periods of higher swells or lower tides, the gap between the shore and the rock can be impenetrable to kayaks.
Paddling the shoreline of Observatory Point. Most of the shoreline is vertical cliffs, but there are a few pocket beaches of gravel where it is possible to land, at least when the swell is low.
Paddling through kelp off Tongue Point. The kelp belt offshore is up to fifty yards wide in some places.
Paddling westbound up the Strait of Juan de Fuca. On a clear day, a paddler can see all the way to Cape Flattery and Carmanah.
The winter seabirds had returned to take up residence in the Strait of Juan de Fuca. I saw all four of the “Big Four” alcids: common murre, pigeon guillemot, marbled murrelet, and rhinoceros auklet. Sea duck species included surf scoter and white-winged scoter, bufflehead, harlequin duck, common merganser, and a single, female hooded merganser. All three species of cormorant were present in high numbers.
On shore, I saw two spotted sandpipers in Freshwater Bay, one of whom was perched on a raft of kelp. Around the corner, I passed a mixed flock of about two dozen surfbirds and black turnstones, our classic wintertime saltwater shorebirds.
Hunting decoy in Freshwater Bay. Most of the sea ducks were not very approachable, but this one didn’t mind being picked up and held.
Common murre off Observatory Point. The dark line extending behind the eye makes this species easy to identify even from a distance.
Pigeon guillemots, Strait of Juan de Fuca. Guillemots dip their heads beneath the water to search for fish and only dive if they think they have a chance to catch one.
Marbled murrelet, Strait of Juan de Fuca. This is the smallest of the Big Four alcids, although there are other, smaller alcid species that also occur in Washington, including the Cassin’s auklet and parakeet auklet.
Rhinoceros auklet, Strait of Juan de Fuca. This is our most approachable alcid species.
Surf scoter, Strait of Juan de Fuca. As usual during fall and winter, this was the most numerous species of sea duck.
Brandt’s cormorants off Observatory Point. This is our largest species of cormorant, although the double-crested cormorant can sometimes subjectively “feel” like a larger bird.
Surfbird off Observatory Point. I usually see more surfbirds than black turnstones, even though black turnstones are supposedly the more numerous of the two here in Washington.
Always before when I have kayaked Crescent Bay, the surf has been large enough to prevent my entering Salt Creek. This time, the waves were no more than a foot and a half high (45 cm), so small that only a handful of the local surfers had even bothered to paddle out. The creek mouth created a gap in the surfline. I paddled across the bar with a few feet of draft.
Even with the tide at peak ebb, the current in Salt Creek was no more than half a knot against me. The creek was shoaling near its banks, but there was a channel in the middle deep enough to accommodate my kayak. To my surprise, I encountered an American dipper in the estuary, very unusual in such slow-moving waters.
The farther I went up the creek, the more trees had fallen across the watercourse. Just under a mile from the mouth, I was stopped by a logjam thick enough that fighting past it would have been more trouble than it was worth. I turned around and made it back to Crescent Bay while the tide was still high enough to float across the river bar.
Island in Crescent Bay. At low tide, this island connects to the sandy beach.
Approaching road bridge across Salt Creek. There were a few other paddlers in Freshwater Bay and Crescent Bay, but I was the only one on the creek.
Kayaking down Salt Creek. Salt Creek is a natural watercourse, but its channel has been incised in past decades.
Upon my return to Freshwater Bay, I met one of the kayakers from the Olympic Peninsula Paddlers who would attend my talk on marine mammals. We compared notes on kayaks and the weather and, most importantly, agreed that the stretch between Freshwater Bay and Crescent Bay is one of the prettiest anywhere along the strait.
—Alex Sidles