Salt water, sounds, George and Scoop

The Lime Kiln State Park lighthouse on San Juan Island.

Finally, the left coast!

If you are one of the brave souls who read our last blog posting, you are aware we traversed the state of Washington from east to west, settling into the harbor town of Anacortes for our first “left coast” ventures. This entry will summarize our coastal forays on the Salish Sea, including visits to San Juan Island, Whidbey Island, and the state capital in Olympia. Soon we will post a summary of the Olympic Peninsula trip. Also, we are making sporadic trips into Seattle across the sound and will sum those up its own posting.

We are now in the area charted by George Vancouver, who we found played a significant role not just in discovering the many islands, sounds, bays, inlets and coastlines on a 7-day 160-mile voyage in 1792, but also in naming many of the landmarks. They were the first non-native people to explore the area.

While George and his crew on the HMS Discovery didn’t find the long-desired “Northwest Passage,” they surveyed and mapped much of the territory. This documentation provided a basis for the Lewis and Clark’s 1804 journey. Vancouver was also responsible for naming of many of the local landmarks. In this and later posts, I will reference these naming examples as being “F.O.G.” for “Friends of George.”

Our first coastal stop was Anacortes, which is another of those town names bastardized from the original. The founder named the town after his wife Anna Curtis but it got shortened to Anacortes. This is the jumping-off ferry point for the touristy San Juan Islands, and for some a trip to Victoria Island in Canada. Since our passports had unexpectedly expired, an oversight caught too late by us, we refined our original plans to forego an international side trip.

On our first night in this marine town, we decided to try out the local brewpub to get a growler of local beer and stumbled onto some live music. It was a delight to hear the jazz band at a reasonable hour for us pensioners (i.e. before 8 p.m.). We chatted with a local at the bar, also named Betsy, who is the host of a local entertainment radio program, and she was full of great advice about the area. 

San Juan Island

The next morning, we boarded the ferry for the glacier-carved San Juan Island, where we had reserved an apartment-style AirBnB in Friday Harbor. That afternoon we got our bearings on the tourist trolley that circumnavigated the small island. Our driver had some questionable “facts” to share, but we felt good about what to do – and not do – the next day, our only full day there. 

On other island trips we have rented motor scooters, which can be a fun way to get around. But when we swung by the local (and only) rental place, it became apparent the scooters were much bigger than usual, and I was unable to reach the ground appropriately while seated. So we had to settle for a goofy bright red “scoot coupe,” and reserved one for the next morning. We finished the day dining on a dozen oysters and dinner at a local restaurant, after getting a complete rundown of the oyster industry from a local at the bar.

The San Juan Island lavender farm was in full colorful bloom and featured several art pieces. This was dubbed “Lavendar Pi.” Love it.

Our trip the next day included visits to the two ends of the island that featured camps for American and British soldiers engaged in the uneventful “pig war” of the mid-1800s. Of course this would give us another check-off for our National Park site list. 

This obscure conflict began with confusion about the nationality of the islands, since the 1846 Treaty of Oregon that defined the territory neglected to assign nationality to the 170+ islands in the San Juan chain. British and American settlers took advantage, setting up farms. It was when an American settler shot a British officer’s interloping pig that tensions escalated and soldiers were deployed.

The British soldiers settled on the tree-heavy scenic northwestern part of San Juan, which was near the town of Victoria where they could have frequent provisions. They hosted social events and planted a formal English garden. On the other hand, the Americans soldiers were isolated to the open, dry Cattle Point section on the south end, leading a much more spartan existence. 

There were no armed encounters. In fact, the only casualty was the pig. And the conflict was resolved in 1872 when Kaiser Wilhelm (!) mediated the dispute, resolving that the U.S. had claim to the islands. Dave and I both decided the U.S. soldiers isolated on this western outpost during the Civil War got the better deal than their military colleagues out east.

Friday morning, we squeezed into the “Red Avenger” (our name to offset the lameness of this vehicle) and putted south to the American camp. 

Betsy was pressed into driving the “Red Avenger,” after failing to meet the height requirements of the motor scooter rentals. Luckily we didn’t see anyone we knew on the island. It would be a shame if our family or friends saw us in this goofy vehicle.

As we approached the visitor center, we noted a small mounted telescope. It turns out a local Bald Eagle family resides in a nearby tree, and the scope revealed a huge female eagle perched on a branch aside a large nest. Bertha, the mom, is a 28-year-old 14-pound mom who has been in the park all her life. She was looking over two juveniles who were just getting ready to leave the nest, according to the NPS volunteers and Ranger.

This is one of Bertha and Bob’s kids.

Bertha did a nice job of staying near the NPS visitors center on San Juan Island. Her two kids are nearby in a huge nest.

On a hike through the park, we noticed another eagle posing on the edge of a coastline rock ledge. Was it Bob, the new dad, trying to escape his fatherly duties?

The American camp also featured more of the glacial “erratics,” large boulders transported by glaciers, then left behind after retreat.

One roadside sign emphasized the large impact Washington U.S. Senator “Scoop” Jackson had on parks in the state, as he had a hand in the establishment of four parks (supposedly) within site of the interp board: The San Juan Island American camp (where we were); North Cascades National Park; Ebey’s Landing on Whidbey Island; and Olympic National Park.

After visiting the much-prettier British Camp, we took the advice of our guide and motored into Wescott Bay to sample some “barbequed” oysters before the 4 p.m. deadline. After sampling a few of the tasty grilled mollusks, a young woman answered some questions and offered a brief tour of the oyster farm, and the many ways their methods differ from those of our home Gulf Coast oyster harvests. Kendra was a native who escaped to Colorado for a college golf scholarship but decided to return home. I’m sure her parents were glad. 

We loved our visit to Westcott Bay on San Juan Island. The fresh barbequed oysters were fabulous, and we got a great tour of the small oyster farm from Kendra, a local who came home after college.

On our return day, we used the trolley to transport us to Lime Kiln State Park, which promoted its proximity to a channel used frequently by whales from May to September. According to the experts at the lighthouse, as of June 28, the whales were later than usual, probably due to reduced food levels in the ocean. (Later, we learned the Orca pod made its appearance on July 5, a week after our visit.) We took a beautiful waterside hike to the kilns perched on the hillside, where limestone was burned for use in the late 1800s.

Not a bad view of the Lime Kiln State Park lighthouse, which typically oversees several pods of Orca whales beginning in June. Sadly, they were late in their visits this year, arriving after we went back to the mainland.

One of our favorite finds on San Juan Island (and elsewhere on other islands) was the Pacific Madrone tree. We have these unique smooth-yet-peeling-barked trees in Texas in the Hill Country and at Guadalupe National Park, and it was fun to see their cousins thousands of miles away.

After our return on the ferry Saturday, we returned to our favorite brewpub for a growler fill and talked to a totally tattooed psychotherapist and former third grade teacher, who shared probably too much information about his many troubled patients.

Another Missouri immigrant

The next day we ventured south from Anacortes to Whidbey Island and Ebey’s Landing National Historic Reserve in Puget Sound. (Both Whidbey and Puget were F.O.G.s.)

The drive to Ebey’s Landing included crossing the 1939 Deception Pass bridge, connecting Fridalgo Island (home of Anacortes) and Whidbey Island. While I was viewing water flowing through the narrow pass, it took a minute to realize we weren’t witnessing a current, but instead a strong ebb tide that resembled a rushing river.

At the NPS site, it was interesting to learn about Colonel Isaac Ebey, who emigrated from Missouri to take advantage of the Donation Land Law of 1850, which gifted large plots of land in the Oregon Territory to those who could “prove” it with settlement and improvements. This was at the same time that thousands of travelers were heading just south of the current Washington State on the Oregon Trail.

This was the first view of a “blockhouse” the 1850s Ebey settlers used to protect themselves against Indian attacks on Whitbey Island.

We found a cool trail on Whidbey Island that went high up a bluff and then switchbacked down to the bay.

The farm had excellent access to water, the “highways” of the day before railroads and improved roads. Only four of the couple’s children survived to adulthood, but one was later killed by local Indians in retribution for a murder committed by another settler. The family built large one-room blockhouses built for protection. The land is still being farmed today.

We took a beautiful 7-mile hike along a bluff’s edge that descended onto a beach along the Strait of Juan de Fuca, and then checked out nearby Coupeville, founded by fur trappers and the self-designated “second-oldest town in Washington.” This claim, of course, incented us to try to identify the oldest, which nobody in town seemed to be able to name. Google told us it was Steilacoom, southeast of Tacoma and founded in 1851. 

On our stroll outside of town we had a serendipitous visit with Sylvia, an Air BnB owner (of the “Float on Inn”) taking advantage of her property’s glorious view over Penn Cove to the North Cascade mountains. She shared some local intel and described the local weather, explaining Whidbey is in a “banana belt” influenced by the Olympic Shadow. This is the effect of the mountains that keep moisture on the coastal side of the range, creating rainforests (which we would later experience) on that west side, and much drier conditions between the Olympics and Cascades. Or, as she summed up, Coupeville gets twice the sun and half the rain of Seattle.

A “capital” idea on Dave's birthday

Dave announced the morning of his birthday that he wanted to visit the state capital. We had been to Olympia before, but felt we needed to make an official visit on this “really get to know a state” adventure.

Our first stop, however, was to validate the “oldest town” theory by visiting Steilacoom. It was on the way to Olympia, but – other than a great lunch overlooking Puget Sound – it provided no validation of the Google results. Nobody we spoke with seemed to know the details. The local museum might have provided details, but it was closed for the holiday weekend. Should we just go ahead and believe everything we read online?

A birthday lunch at Steilacoom, the oldest town (?).

Here is a brief background for the uninformed: Washington was part of the original Oregon Territory established in 1846, and then carved out (with part of what is now southern Idaho) when Oregon became a state in 1859. The creation of Idaho territory in 1859 resulted in the shape of the current state of Washington, which became a state in 1889.

From its territorial days to its entrance into the U.S. as a state, Olympia has been the capital city. Port Townsend vied for the title, but railroad routes bypassed that peninsula in the late 1800s, and Olympia, which sits at the southern end of the expansive Puget Sound, became the permanent seat.

The tour of the current Washington Capitol Building was one of the best we’ve experienced. But the building itself featured much less art or murals than we normally see. Completed in 1928, it is a huge monotonal masonry complex. The only real ornamental touches were the multiple Tiffany & Co. light fixtures. According to our guide, it was a budget issue, which makes sense considering the time of the building’s completion.

Some on the tour told us about climbing up to the 287-foot-tall dome before the Nisqually earthquake in 2001 caused the state to shore up the building and close down that feature. The guide refused to speculate on our fate if the “Big One” hits during our visit.

We viewed a lot of information about the state, learning about its first territorial and state governor Isaac Stevens, who perfected the art of claiming land from Native Americans through treaties - many of which were later violated. (Some guy from Illinois named Lincoln turned down an offer to head up the territory before Oregon became a state; probably a good career move on his part.) 

Stevens was a personality in his own right, graduating at the top of his class at West Point in 1839, and then packing up his 12-year-old son to cross the continent on horseback for his new job as territorial governor in 1853. On that trip, he commanded a group of engineers and surveyors seeking a northern route to the Pacific Ocean. After his political career, he fought in the Civil War, dying at the Battle of Chantilly in 1862.

According to the local tour guide, the seed of this spruce tree on the capitol campus went to the moon on Apollo 11, almost exactly 50 years ago.

Marcus Whitman, a controversial pick for D.C. honors. We'll learn more about him later.

We sampled some more raw local oysters at a market before heading home for the day.

Baseball and Boeing

The itinerary for our last day in the northwest corner of the mainland included an Everett Aquasox low-A minor league game. On our way to this town north of Seattle we crossed on a ferry to Mulkiteo, home of Boeing’s wide-body manufacturing facility. No cameras were allowed on the plant tour, but the scope of the buildings (largest building in the world) and plane parts was astronomical. Josh, our tour guide, came to the job from being a “sample-slinger” at Costco. Another good career move, we think. By the way, nobody brought up the 737 Max issue, and - besides - it wasn't built at this plant.

We spent some time on the Everett waterfront learning about the very smoky sawmill/shingle industries that are now long gone. Not unlike some of our other stops, union/management issues also affected this town, including a 1916 strike led by the Shingle Weavers Union of the IWW (“Wobblies”) resulting in 7 workers shot and killed during the melee.

The local fishing industry was affected by the “Boldt Decision,” a ruling by a U.S. District Court judge George Boldt’s decision in 1974 to enforce the 1855 treaty entitling half of the local fish harvest to native Americans. While it obviously impacted the industry, it seemed ironic that – finally – the U.S. honored a treaty.

The Aquasox stadium and game were OK, but Betsy was pleased to get the requisite mascot shot. One fun feature was a plaque outside the old stadium, designating the spot where in 1967 a 17-year-old Bellingham player named Ken Griffey, Jr. placed his first professional hit, a 387-foot home run.

Whew! That gets us to Gig Harbor, and our 19-night stay in the Seattle area. The next blogs will capture our brief visit to the Olympic Peninsula and the Tacoma/Gig Harbor areas, and then a summary of our five daytrips into Seattle