Here in Washington, the gray whale migration gets underway during spring. From February through May, gray whales pass through our region en route from their winter calving grounds in Baja California to their summer foraging habitat in Alaska’s Bering and Chukchi Seas.

Most gray whales migrate along the outer coast. You can hike out to Shi Shi or Rialto in Olympic National Park on any given day during the season and see any number of gray whales right off the beach. These individuals typically only pause to forage for a day or two before resuming their northward journeys.

However, there is also a population of a dozen or so “sounders,” so called because these gray whales divert into Possession Sound each year and spend the spring months foraging for bottom-dwelling ghost shrimp. Unlike the coastal individuals, the sounders linger for weeks for months, although they do eventually join the rest of the gray whales in Alaska. Many of the same individual sounders have been coming to our waters each spring for twenty-five years or more and have become well known and much beloved by us locals.

Since February, the Orca Network had been reporting sounders every day in Possession Sound, the body of water between Everett and Whidbey Island, as well as Port Susan, the body of water between Camano Island and the mainland. I decided to take an overnight trip down across Possession Sound and down to Possession Point State Park to try to find the whales.

After much deliberation, I decided to launch at Port of Everett, even though this was near the southern limit of the sounders’ preferred foraging grounds. Launch sites farther north were either too far (Kayak Point), too inconvenient to reach (Langley), or closed to outsiders (Tulalip). To extend my time in the prime whale-watching waters, I first paddled north along Jetty Island to the line of sunken wooden ships outside the river mouth, then across to Hat Island.

I kept my eyes peeled for spouts all the way across Possession Sound, but by the time I reached Hat Island, I still had not seen any. Only rarely do the sounders go further south than Everett, so I figured I had missed them and would just have to try my luck the following day.

Just as I was altering course to head in earnest toward Possession Point, I looked over my shoulder and spotted the whale-watching boat San Juan Clipper idling in the bay. A throng of tourists packed the decks, so I knew they were watching something. Soon enough, I saw two spouts in rapid succession. They were larger than orca spouts but smaller than humpbacks. It was two gray whales!

One of the whales swam about a mile south of Hat Island. I paddled over and spent a wonderful half hour in its company. Every couple minutes, it would bob to the surface and emit a deep, whooshing breath, linger for a few seconds, then dive again. The whale was resting here, so it did not breathe deeply nor stay underwater long. Its intervals at the surface tended to be brief but frequent.

The gray whale was not as energetic as an orca, nor were its dives as splashy as a humpback’s, but what distinguished this animal was its beautiful, mottled skin. The gray and white spots on the whale’s back reminded me of the barnacle-speckled stones that cover most of our beaches, as if the whale’s body had evolved to mimic its surroundings.

After the whale encounter, I picked up a favorable southbound current on the afternoon flood, which gave me a welcome boost on this sixteen-mile day.

Unfamiliar as I was with this area, I confused Possession Point State Park, which does allow camping, with nearby Possession Beach Waterfront Park, a municipal park that does not. A passerby on shore set me straight just as I was setting up my tent. I loaded everything back into the boat and continued south another quarter mile to Possession Point proper.

To my delight, there were very few people about, so I had the long, bluff-lined beach almost all to myself. Better yet, there was a fantastic array of sea ducks loitering offshore. I saw all three species of scoter, including the black scoter, which is uncommon in Washington waters, plus both species of goldeneye, harlequin ducks, and bufflehead. Also present were red-necked and horned grebes, and red-throated and common loons.

I took a folding chair down to the beach to read science fiction novels and watch the ducks diving for fish and picking at mussels.

On Sunday, I wanted to get home in time for my brother-in-law’s birthday party, so I departed early into the afternoon flood, even though this meant I would still face a moderate adverse southbound current. I battled northward for several hours in the expectation that a favorable current would soon come to my rescue. Instead, the current remained adverse the entire way back to the port. A ten-knot north wind added to my woes, slowing my progress and generating chop that poured several gallons of water into my kayak by way of my leaky, worthless Folbot spraydeck.

Despite the strenuous return voyage, it was a great trip. The gray whales were absolutely magnificent animals, I got to see some very cool scoters, and the beaches and bluffs at Possession Point were even lovelier than I’d imagined.

—Alex Sidles

I had so much fun visiting the spring-time gray whales in March, I decided to go again in April. Now that I knew better how the whales behave, I was able to find one after just a couple hours’ paddling, as opposed to the overnight trip I took the previous month.

What a difference a month makes. In March, I encountered tons of scoters of all three species. In April, however, I found all the black scoters gone, as well as half the white-winged. The surf scoters, though, had actually increased their numbers—I found hundreds.

The grebes had not only changed their plumage; they had changed their behavior. Horned grebes are usually one of the most human-tolerant species on the water, but of the forty or so I encountered today, not one let me get within 200 yards. I’m not sure if this has something to do with their new plumage, or if it was just some kind of coincidence, but they sure did seem shy. It’s too bad—I would have loved to get a little closer to see their magnificent tufts.

I crossed most of the way to Hat Island before I finally found the gray whale. I spotted its spout at a distance of about two miles and hurried over. There were several “sounder” gray whales in Possession Sound, so I have no idea if the one I found this time was the same one from last month. If it was, it had moved a couple miles inland from where I previously encountered it. It was now just a couple miles out from the south end of Jetty Island.

I was proud of myself for having found it on my own. Gray whales are harder to spot than humpbacks or orcas. Last month, I paddled past the whale without seeing it. I only found it by following the whale-watching boats. This time, however, I found the spout myself. It was wonderful to enjoy the whale’s company without the distraction of a whale boat’s chugging engine and exhaust fumes.

The whale was much more active this time than before. It dove more frequently and for longer periods. Perhaps this one was foraging, whereas the previous one was resting. I still don’t know enough about whale behavior to say. At any rate, this whale was considerably more difficult to photograph, because it exposed less of its body for shorter lengths of time.

The whale had drawn me far to the south of my launch point, but not quite far enough to justify using the south entrance of Jetty Island to return home. Instead of paddling all the up to the north entrance and all the way down to my car, I landed on the outside of Jetty Island and portaged across.

In retrospect, it was a little silly to undertake a twenty-minute portage just to save a forty-minute paddle, but it ended up bring a lucky decision. I had all of Jetty Island to myself, and I encountered a large flock of dunlin and black-bellied plovers foraging like crazy on the beach. I crept as close as I dared, which was not very close, and spent half an hour enjoying the company of these lovely shorebirds.

—Alex Sidles