After ten years of kayaking in Washington, I finally completed a visit to each of the public campgrounds in the San Juan Islands.

My original plan was to launch from North Beach on Orcas Island and paddle a few minutes down the coast to Point Doughty, my first unvisited campsite. I’d spend a night there, then paddle across to Patos Island for an evening, then to Sucia Island, then back to the car. I’d already visited Patos once and Sucia several times, but they’re beautiful islands, and I knew I’d have them almost all to myself this time of year. For icing on the cake, I’d drive down to Obstruction Pass State Park, the last unvisited campsite, and scout it out by foot for future trips.

The trip started out auspiciously and only got better. On the drive up, I saw fourteen hundred trumpeter swans foraging in the farmers’ fields in the Skagit Valley. The swans were in two giant flocks, one of six hundred, one of eight hundred. The six hundred-strong flock was mixed with mallards and northern pintails in a kind of festival of anatids.

The weather the first day was more like the middle of May than the middle of February. I cruised gently down the north side of Orcas, enjoying the seabirds and puffy clouds.

Point Doughty had a high bluff with a staircase leading up. I set up my tent in the highest, most exposed campsite to enjoy the magnificent views of the Gulf Islands and northern San Juans.

I knew it would be windy up in the saddle, but I had underestimated the wind’s strength. By ten o’clock that night, the tent was flapping loudly, despite my many guylines, and by eleven o’clock, I couldn’t take the noise anymore. I dragged the tent down into the forested portion and was finally able to get some sleep.

The next morning was much cloudier. Even though the wind was only blowing ten knots, there was more chop in President’s Channel than I would have expected. I shipped several gallons of water launching the kayak from the beach.

I’d encountered rough conditions north of Orcas on previous trips, so I knew to be careful. If ten knots were enough to produce whitecaps, then I would have to be mindful of the forecast, which called for higher windspeeds in the coming days.

As a precaution, I skipped my intended visit to Patos Island and instead made for Sucia. Sucia is close enough to North Beach that I thought I could make a run for the car if conditions looked like getting worse in the coming days. I had work obligations back home that I couldn’t miss, and a wife and daughter who needed me!

My revised plans meant I had two days on Sucia instead of one. I took advantage of the opportunity to thoroughly explore the many miles of trails that wend through the island. I visited every bay, planning out future camping trips to see cool things and avoid large crowds. Echo Bay and especially Fossil Bay were the most beautiful campsites, but the north end of Shallow Bay would be the most secluded; it also features a sandy beach and cool sandstone caves to explore. Ewing Cove was also remote and lovely but the hiking trails were difficult of access from Ewing.

Although I’d stayed at Fossil Bay once before, I had never before found any fossils. My wife is good at spotting things like that, but I just don’t have the eye. With time on my hands this trip, I was able to explore more thoroughly, and there was an ammonite on the outside wall of the bay that even I couldn’t miss. There were fossilized clams, too, but this ammonite was a real beauty.

My decision to skip Patos was prescient. The wind picked up to fifteen knots, casting whitecaps all over the channel. Then it went to twenty, then briefly to twenty-five. I stayed on land and kept exploring. There were the ruins of old settlements on Sucia, as well as a survey marker carved in the rock by what may be the first white visitor to the island in the late 19th century. I was perfectly happy to ride out the gusty day hiking, reading, and birding and not worrying about getting stranded like I would have if I’d been on Patos.

Remembering what happened to my last tarp on Lopez Island, I did take down my tarp out of respect for the wind. Luckily, the rain fell in nothing worse than the occasional drizzle, so the lack of tarp did not infringe my comfort in camp.

On the last day of the trip, the morning dawned overcast but still. The wind was back down to five knots, and I darted across the short channel to Orcas in under an hour in the gentle conditions.

I hopped in my car and swung down to Obstruction Pass, checking off my last unvisited campsite. I discovered that Obstruction Pass would be well worth a future camping trip. I had feared it would be car-accessible, which usually makes for poor camping, but it turned out the cars have to park half a mile uphill from the campsite.

This being President’s Day weekend, I struggled to win a spot on the ferry home. No doubt the new reservation system is a blessing to permanent inhabitants of the San Juans, who need a predictable, guaranteed sailing time in order to avoid being stuck in line half their lives, but for itinerant kayakers like me, it makes travel in the islands much less free than it used to be. Luckily, I made it on as a standby passenger on the three-hour-wait boat. I was literally the last car aboard.

The ferry shenanigans notwithstanding, this was yet another grade-A trip to the San Juans. Every time I go, I see more and more cool things. This time, the highlights were the giant swan flocks, abundant common murres, courting pigeon guillemots, and the fossils. And of course, the completion of my silly, longstanding goal to visit every public campsite in the islands.

—Alex Sidles