The kids and I met up with our friends James and Chelsea for a Father’s Day weekend paddle on Puget Sound. At age three, my son Leon is still a little young for kayak-camping, so we needed a trip close to home, to minimize driving time, with a short and sheltered paddle, to minimize boat time. Middle Point in Manchester State Park fit the bill.
Route map. There are signs at Pomeroy Park that say no overnight parking, but there is an electronic kiosk that sells overnight parking passes for $10 a night.
The currents through Rich Passage, between Bainbridge Island and the mainland, can run several knots. We timed our passage so that the current was just turning to a favorable flood—but not too favorable. Slow and steady are our watchwords when we’re paddling with kids.
Along the way, we passed the US Navy’s fuel depot at Orchard Point, the largest underground fuel storage facility in the continental United States. Pigeon guillemots were roosting inside one of the massive fenders hanging from the fuel dock. They must have mistaken the fender’s opening for their natural habitat, which is burrows excavated from seaside cliffs.
Leon at launch beach, Pomeroy Park. Even in late June, we had to dress warmly.
Alex, Maya, and Leon paddling past Orchard Point. Grandpa John’s enormous Long Haul folding kayak easily accommodated all three of us plus food, water, clothes, and camping equipment.
James and Chelsea paddling on Puget Sound. In the background, the Seattle skyline looms out of the mist.
Leon nad Maya in kayak. Usually, the kids fall asleep in the boat, but today they stayed awake to make mischief.
Chelsea in kayak. At age nine, Chelsea is almost ready for her own boat.
Pigeon guillemot inside fender, Manchester Fuel Department. I can’t imagine they would nest here, but they did seem to enjoy roosting.
Middle Point was formerly a military installation, a substation of Fort Ward on the far side of Rich Passage. Fort Ward, in turn, was part of the harbor defense scheme of Puget Sound, constructed during the Endicott Period prior to World War I. At the time, the most serious threats to American national security appeared to be the fleets of Great Britain, Spain, and Japan. In the days before airplanes, a defender might easily fail to detect or destroy an attacking fleet at sea. The only reliable defense was forts ashore.
Puget Sound’s main line of defense was the Triangle of Fire, a trio of sprawling forts lining Admiralty Inlet, bristling with heavy guns. Formidable though the Triangle of Fire was, a sufficiently determined enemy fleet might survive the gun line, or might be able to slip through the “back door” of Deception Pass, where it would face only the less formidable Fort Whitman on Goat Island. A secondary line of harbor defenses seemed prudent.
Fort Ward and its subsidiary Middle Point constituted the secondary line. Unlike Admiralty Inlet, the calmer, narrower Rich Passage was well suited for the emplacement of underwater mines tethered to the seafloor. The fort’s mission was to emplace and maintain the mines, defend them against sabotage, and, if necessary during wartime, fire them to disable passing enemy warships. Spotters ashore would plot the warships’ locations so the commander would know which mines to detonate and when. The only guns at Fort Ward and Middle Point were small, quick-firing batteries intended to defeat enemy minesweepers, torpedo boats, and other small vessels that could maneuver around the minefield.
Times have changed. Today, the waters of Puget Sound are almost entirely free of naval mines. Fort Ward and Middle Point are now both parks, accessible by land but with special campsites reserved for kayakers. The military fortifications serve as playgrounds for children.
Climbing the mines at Middle Point. The brick building is the old torpedo storehouse, “torpedo” being the nineteenth-century name for any underwater explosive device, including tethered mines.
Maya clambering up a mine. Maya, age six, was careful to ask whether the mines could still explode before she jumped on them.
Chelsea clambering onto road. The old road between the mine casement and the quick-firing gun battery is starting to wash away.
James and Chelsea atop Battery Mitchell, Middle Point. Battery Mitchell was intended to house a pair of three-inch, quick-firing guns, but the guns were never actually emplaced.
Maya exploring Battery Mitchell. The fort consists of two stories below grade, plus the “roof” of the fort at grade, so it is a maze of stairways and passages.
Maya descending to a magazine. Ammunition for the guns was stored in chambers beneath the guns.
Leon exploring Battery Mitchell. Leon chased after the older girls as best he could.
Maya dancing on Battery Mitchell. The fort is in amazingly good condition considering its age.
Middle Point was crawling with rabbits and chipmunks. The rabbits appeared to be introduced cottontails. They were not shy of humans, but they were not excessively fond of them, either. The chipmunks were native Townsend’s chipmunks, and they had no objections to humans whatsoever. Several times, they allowed the kids to approach within a few feet.
Foresighted James brought a frisbee, so we went down to the fields to play. Leon and Maya are a little young for frisbee, although they did their best to keep up. More their speed—especially Leon’s—was the sandpit for beach volleyball. They brought their stuffed animals and toy monster trucks down to the sand and played all afternoon.
It rained a little overnight, but Sunday morning dawned merely overcast. After final rounds of frisbee, fort exploration, and sandpit, we packed up the boats and paddled back to Pomeroy Park. A strengthening adverse current encouraged us not to dawdle, a message that was reinforced by the thickening rainclouds. Occasional periods of drizzle didn’t bother us, and we managed to load into our cars before the truly torrential downpour began.
Eastern cottontail, Middle Point. Most of the rabbits, including this individual, appeared to be immature.
Townsend’s chipmunk, Middle Point. Chipmunk species can be difficult to distinguish in the field, but the Townsend’s is the only species in Puget Sound, so identification here is easy.
Maya and Leon watching Townsend’s chipmunk. We were close enough to see it stuffing individual pieces of grass into its mouth.
Maya in mine casement with frisbee. The kids clambered in and out of the windows of the mine casement, taunting me to follow them.
Leon preparing for bed in the tent. Our giant, six-person tent barely fit in the kayak-campsite.
Leon and Maya asleep in kayak. Leon, a true rain baby, did not even notice the drizzle falling on his face.
The fort at Middle Point was mostly a boondoggle. It never fired any of its various weapons—never even emplaced any of its guns—and was only manned for a few years before it was deactivated and abandoned.
All along, it turns out, the fort’s highest and best function was to serve as a playground and campground for children and their dads on Father’s Day. After a mere 130 years, it has finally accomplished its mission.
—Alex Sidles