Sailing fast in a fresh morning breeze and abundant sunshine, Yahtzee bounded through Race Passage wing-on-wing en route to Victoria Harbour. It was mid-August, exactly three months to the day after we left Victoria to circumnavigate Vancouver Island and, as if to welcome us back, a pod of orcas broke the surface close on our starboard side. To be sure, it was a fitting end to an incredible family journey around a beautiful, wild, and captivating island, and we were ready to slow it down.
On our approach to the city, we rolled up the genoa, fired up the engine, and dropped the mainsail, officially crossing our outbound track and closing a 1,141-mile counterclockwise loop, which had included forays into Princess Lousia Inlet, Desolation Sound, the Broughtons, and more. In the harbor, sea planes took off and landed, water taxis buzzed this way and that, and various types of boats moved in and out of the bustling waterway. It was by far the most people and activity we’d seen in a while—quite a difference from the quaint towns and empty anchorages we’d become accustomed to.
The decision to leave the wild west coast in mid-August was a tough one, but it felt like the right thing to do. We could already tell that the weather was changing, as the once consistent northwesterly breezes that we enjoyed on the ocean were becoming fewer and farther between, and the amount of fog was on the rise. When the fog came, it seemed to linger longer, sometimes all day. Also, by this point, we had put a lot of miles in during the spring and summer and we were looking forward to a month or so of hanging around our home stomping grounds of the San Juan Islands. Turns out, we wouldn’t be disappointed with the decision.
Back in the Neighborhood
After spending a few days enjoying the Victoria area and resupplying with provisions, we sailed eastward into the San Juans, and it felt like summer started again. The tranquility of the islands beckoned with open arms, welcoming us home to a place we know well and love dearly. Even though we’d seen so many incredible places throughout our rounding of Vancouver Island, we missed the scenery, the people, and the slow pace of life here.
Once we’d checked in at Roche Harbor, we turned around and headed a few miles south and dropped anchor in the familiar confines of Garrison Bay. Ashore, the white buildings of English Camp sat nestled along the former parade ground and behind them rose Mount Young. Our kayak and dinghy were quickly put in the water and we made for shore to stretch our legs and explore. With our sons Porter and Magnus in tow, we hiked to the top of Mount Young, which provided spectacular views of San Juan Island, British Columbia, the Strait of Juan de Fuca, and the Olympic Mountain range beyond. Boy, did it feel good to be back.
It was a lazy weekend around English Camp and we started to set our sights farther north. Sucia Island is a favorite for so many, including us, and we decided to use a moderate westerly breeze to wind our way up there. We aimed for Echo Bay on the east side of the island and on our approach, saw that tiny Ewing Cove was empty. There are just a couple mooring buoys inside this little nook, and we made a beeline for the entrance to snag one before anyone else could.
Entering the cove, my eyes darted quickly from the dropping depth meter to rocks on either side of us and we slowly made our way in. When the depth started to increase again, I made a sweeping turn to port and aimed for one of the state park buoys while Jill got the boat hook and lines ready. I was shocked that the mooring balls were open this time of year, but we’d gladly take it.
Heading out in the dinghy alone, rays of sunshine hit the water and spread throughout the finger-shaped cove. Interesting rock formations and panoramic views of the islands greeted me as I climbed from the water’s edge up onto a grassy clearing to take a few pictures. It was classic San Juan Islands. Later, we all came ashore as a family, landing on the rocky, crescent-shaped beach strewn with logs and driftwood. Fringed by tall trees, we set out on the island’s impressive trail system and slowly poked our way towards Echo Bay and Shallow Bay, only turning around when our stomachs began to growl. Dinnertime called our hungry crew back to the boat.
The great thing about being in the San Juans without a fixed schedule is that we could linger at places a bit longer and make our next destination decisions based on whim and weather. That feels good at any time of year, but it was a truly perfect fit for these late summer days in the islands. We happily swung on that Ewing Cove mooring for three nights and then made a move towards Orcas Island, knowing that we’d need to top up on provisions again soon.
Heart of the Islands
From Sucia we scooted down the east side of Orcas and stopped at Doe Bay in pleasantly calm weather. The anchorage between Doe Bay and Doe Island Marine Park is only good when it’s flat calm and we were fortunate to get that for a day and night.
The summer sun was baking the island when we landed at the dock for a jaunt around the tiny park and, after exploring a bit, the water we’d brought wasn’t cutting it. Off we went to get some ice cream and cold beverages at Doe Bay Resort, where we found what we were looking for and more. The resort sits on a small bluff overlooking Rosario Strait and its quaint, rustic charm is everything you love about the islands in the summer. The boys played on the swingset while Jill and I sat with a cold beverage in hand, reminiscing about our journey over the past few months and thinking ahead towards fall and what that would bring for our crew.
With the need for a grocery run gradually increasing, we decided to make one stop on our way to Friday Harbor—a family favorite, Blind Bay. We got up early and motored over flat calm water between Orcas and Obstruction Island and then into Cayou Channel (formerly Harney Channel). Approaching Blind Island State Park, the day was already hot, there wasn’t a lick of breeze, and it felt like summer might just stick around forever. Perched atop a scraggly tree on the island, a bald eagle sat watching the bay and seemed to keep an eye on us as we snagged an open mooring ball relatively close to shore. I dropped our dinghy in the water while Jill got the boys ready to head for shore, hoping for a place to splash around in the cool water. Upon landing on the beach, the boys happily dug in the sand and rocks until they were ready to go for a short walk around the small island. Wanting to see if the eagle was still in his perch, we crossed the rocky, grass- and tree-covered island together and stopped at a distance to watch this magnificent bird spin its head towards us and then take flight over the water. Beauty in motion.
When we returned to the boat, Jill and Magnus headed down below to dry off and get a snack, but Porter wanted to stay out and practice rowing. Sitting in the cockpit watching him, I felt a pang of pride wash over me. Throughout the summer, he’d taken to the oars more and more and with each passing session I could see his skills and confidence accelerating. He’d grown a lot during our voyage around Vancouver Island—we all had in different ways. Whiling away these laidback August days in the San Juans is dreamworthy stuff under any circumstance; but to be in this ideal moment after everything we’d experienced was amazingly satisfying.
I let him go at it for a while longer and when he strayed farther than I was comfortable, I went out in the kayak to offer assistance. He wanted to go around the island, he said, and I couldn’t argue with that. We made the short lap together and I had a smile on my face most of the time—it felt so good to be back.
Andy Cross is the editor of 48° North. After years cruising the Pacific Northwest and Alaska with his family aboard their Grand Soleil 39, Yahtzee, they sailed south and are currently in the islands of the Eastern Caribbean.
