At long last, Washington State had begun to re-open to camping on a county-by-county basis. San Juan County was the latest to enter Phase 2 of the governor’s re-opening plan, during which camping in small groups was allowed, but only on islands not served by ferries.
Finally, I could take my daughter, Maya, kayak-camping, our first overnight together since our trip to Saddlebag Island last year, and our first-ever overnight without Rachel, who was staying at home with baby Leon.
Originally, I had thought to paddle to James Island, because it can be reached from the mainland without the need to wait for a ferry. The forecast for Saturday was for calm winds, so getting there would be doable, but the forecast for Sunday warned of fifteen- to twenty-five-knot winds. I did not want to risk kayaking with a three-year-old in such conditions, especially in the exposed waters of Rosario Strait.
On the other hand, Sucia Island, on the north side of Orcas, had regular water taxi service during the summer. The regular taxi had been shut down due to coronavirus restrictions, but the operator told me he could pick up me and Maya and our kayak and bring us back to Orcas on Sunday for $100. No fear of winds in a motorboat. The trip was back on!
The currents between Orcas and Sucia can run over three knots, but they were much less when we crossed.
Saturday dawned rainy and cold, but Maya insisted she liked to be cold. I bundled her up in raingear and launched us both from Orcas Island’s North Beach.
Maya was alarmed at the sight of the eight-inch (20 cm) waves breaking on the beach, especially when she had to sit in the boat by herself while I shoved it into the water. To assuage her fears, I raced into the water so fast the waves came over my boot tops. As soon as we were ten feet from shore, away from the waves, Maya started having a great time, as she always does in a kayak.
There were not many birds about—just a few pigeon guillemots and pelagic and Brandt’s cormorants. There were no ducks, grebes, or loons, even in the middle of the passage between Orcas and Sucia, where I had previously encountered huge flocks of Pacific loons.
Maya on the Orcas Island ferry. The rain-slick deck of a ferry is the natural home of a native Pacific Northwesterner like her.
Maya and the kayak at North Beach. North Beach is the usual launch point for trips to the northern San Juans.
Launching kayak toward Sucia Island. Maya loves trailing her fingers in the water so much she sometimes falls asleep that way.
Sucia Island is the best island in the San Juans for children. There are fields to roam, beaches to explore, and rocks to climb on. Everywhere are wide, level paths through the forest and tunnels through the underbrush. Around each corner is a fresh child’s delight.
Maya’s favorite part of the trip was playing in the tent. We spent hours making up stories about her stuffed dogs, which had accompanied us to Sucia in their own drybag.
To protect our campsite, I hoisted my monster-sized, 250-square-foot (23-sq.-m) tarp. It was so large it covered our tent, our picnic table, and a grassy porch where Maya and I could sit and watch the rain pattering in Fossil Bay.
Alex and Maya in the tent on Sucia Island. There are more than sixty campsites on Sucia, but this one at Fossil Bay is the best.
Maya boots up to go exploring. Sucia has some of the best hiking trails and beaches in the San Juans.
Maya at Fox Cove on Sucia Island. This weekend, we were the only ones camped on the entire southern half of the island, although there were about half a dozen powerboats moored overnight.
View of Fox Cove. This little bay is one of the prettiest in the San Juans.
Canada geese on Sucia Island. In addition to this family of geese, there was a mixed flock of purple finches and American goldfinches foraging in this field.
Campsite no. 15 in Fossil Bay. Maya was happy to spend the whole day playing around here.
Campsite picnic table. The harder it rained, the cozier we felt under our tarp.
Maya overlooking Fossil Bay. When we first arrived, she wanted me to carry her over the piles of driftwood, but before the weekend was over, she was scrambling over even the biggest logs herself.
Maya herself took this photo of Sedda, one of the principal members of the dog pack. Then Maya and Sedda took the waterproof camera down to the beach and dunked it in the water.
During the night, the wind did indeed rise to fifteen knots. I congratulated myself on my foresight in arranging the water taxi, but by Sunday afternoon, the wind had died back to almost nothing. We could easily have made the crossing back to Orcas, but it was too late to cancel the taxi, so we took a ride on the motorboat.
To spare myself having to carry our things from the far end of Fossil Bay where we were camped, we loaded everything into the kayak and paddled across the bay to the boat dock to meet the taxi.
In the tent on Sucia Island. We both fell asleep long before sunset and woke up long after dawn.
Kayaking across Fossil Bay to the boat dock. There were harbor seals and a river otter in this bay, and a mink at the Orcas Island marina where the taxi dropped us off.
Climbing sandstone rocks, Sucia Island. A three-year-old will never run out of adventures on this island.
Maya in the water taxi, leaving Sucia Island. The boat driver spotted harbor porpoises at Parker Reef, but Maya and I did not see them.
Maya had so much fun she repeated several times, “I love Sucia Island.”
I love it, too. Even as the water taxi whisked us home, I was already thinking about our next visit.
—Alex Sidles