Rachel and I began taking Maya kayak-camping in the summer of 2019, when Maya was not quite three years old. All along, I’d been planning someday to take her to Strawberry Island, my favorite place on Earth. Finally, this year, Maya was old enough that I felt comfortable exposing her to the steep cliffs and long paddle associated with Strawberry Island.
Route map. A flood tide moves water northward up Rosario Strait, which is helpful, but eastward up Guemes Channel, which is not helpful.
Just as I’d hoped, Strawberry Island proved the perfect place for a little girl to explore. I’ve remarked before that Strawberry Island is like a diorama of the planet’s ecosystems: there is a miniature mountain range, no more than fifty feet high; a miniature plain of grass, no more than thirty feet across; a miniature forest, no more than a hundred feet wide. None of it takes longer than a few seconds to traverse. All of it was just the right size for Maya.
Maya made up various new games on Strawberry Island. Her favorite involved taking her stuffed dogs down to the beach (yet another miniature landform), where I would hide them for her to find. The dogs hid in all sorts of unexpected places: behind boulders, under driftwood, high up on cliffs, and even inside our kayak and gear!
It rained and blew a bit the first afternoon, so we had lots of time in the tent to bounce around on our huge, two-person air mattress, an innovation I copied from our camping friends James and Chelsea. The thing is so comfortable I might start using it for my solo trips.
Kayaking past Cypress Island. I timed the currents less for speed and more for avoidance of any tide races.
Maya arrived on Strawberry Island. The first thing she did was put her doll, Cupcake Babe, in a baby carrier so the two of them could explore the beach.
In the tent, Strawberry Island. My hope of sleeping without a rainfly was dashed Saturday night by fifteen-knot winds and rain.
Alex and Maya on a hike. The Nootka rose bushes in the forest were head-high to Maya, so I had to carry her “up top” on my shoulders until we reached open ground on the east side of the island.
Building a dog prison (later a dog house). Everything on Strawberry Island, including the beach, is perfectly sized for childhood adventures.
Oh no! Sedda and Biscuit have escaped their prison and climbed the cliff! It will need an extra-long stick to get them down!
Looking over Rosario Strait. Maya was proud of her ability to climb these rocks without any assistance.
Strawberry Island is no longer listed as a campsite in the guidebooks, but it has not yet faded from the communal memory of local kayakers. During the three days and two nights we camped, we were visited by no fewer than seven other kayakers. Most were day visitors, but on the second night, two other kayakers camped on the island. They politely sited themselves high up in the interior, out of eye- and earshot from our campsite on the grassy plain.
Birdwatching, Strawberry Island. Heermann’s gulls and black oystercatchers were the species of greatest interest.
Maya playing with Chips, one of the principal members of the dog pack. Chips fixed a plate of dog food consisting of grass and the cones of Douglas-firs.
Maya herself took this picture of three of the dogs on a log. Strawberry Dog, Ruby, and Chips are wearing limpet shells for decoration.
Sunset, Strawberry Island. Days like these are precious.
Dinner in the tent. Maya stayed nice and warm in Rachel’s enormously thick down sleeping bag.
Kayaking back to Anacortes. We just barely caught the tail end of the morning ebb.
This two-night camping trip was Maya’s longest yet. She did miss Rachel and Leon, but she was so busy having adventures she never became homesick.
The adventures will never end. They will only get bigger and longer.
—Alex Sidles