Kayaking San Juan Island's West Side: Seals, Eagles, and Maybe Orcas

Before the sun rises I'm awake, fidgety and excited to paddle once again in the San Juan Islands. With a banana and Clif bars stashed in the car for breakfast, I'm on the road early from Friday Harbor. My goal is to get on the water before the winds pick up.

When I arrive at Smallpox Bay in San Juan County Park a bit after 7 o'clock this cool May morning, a southwesterly breeze is already causing the big American flag at the park office to dance and flap. But no one else is here yet.

(Actually, the park doesn't open until 8 a.m.)

Thankfully, no whitecaps are forming on the small bay and in Haro Strait beyond, so I park and start hauling my Mariner Coaster kayak and gear down to the beach.

Here on the western side of San Juan Island, separated from Vancouver Island by the long sweep of Haro Strait, resident orca whales can sometimes be seen passing through or even feeding close to shore. I'm hoping I'll be lucky enough to spot orcas today from my kayak.
 
After launching from the beach, I paddle out to open water and then steer southward toward Lime Kiln Point State Park a few miles away. So far the sun hasn't risen high enough to clear the rocky shoreline of shadows, so I stray far enough off shore to catch the morning sun.

When I pass the historic lighthouse at Lime Kiln Point, I swing out even farther offshore to avoid getting tangled in the lines of several guys fishing in this bottomfish preserve.

Just before I reach the point, a big bald eagle glides straight overhead. A kayak guide I met the day before said there are a couple active eagle nests along this stretch of shoreline.

After paddling hard for 90 minutes while scanning the sea for signs of orca, I decide to slow down and start exploring the shoreline instead. While the orcas continue to elude me, I never tire of spotting seals, sea stars, and waterfowl.

First, though, I just let myself hang in the water and drift for a few minutes in the protected water behind the rocky outcrops of Pile Point.  When I round the point close to the rocks, a smallish gray seal less than 10 feet away slips into the water with a splash.

Group hug!

With strong tidal exchanges and huge volumes of Salish Sea water flooding and ebbing through Haro Strait, the San Juan Islands shorelines are rich with sea life. I skirt around kelp forests and eelgrass beds, some of the most productive ecosystems on the planet. 

Kelp are also a great way to gauge the tidal currents. As I turn around to kayak back north, the long bull kelp strands are all pointed due south, indicating a strong ebbing current. (A reminder to myself and all you kayakers out there - remember to check the tide tables before heading out on any kayak outing in the Salish Sea.) With the wind now at my back, the currents are flowing in the opposite direction, which makes for some choppy, squirrely water around the points I pass heading back north.

Historic Lime Kiln Point Lighthouse. Note the big spotted seal on the rock outcrop to the left.

As I round a point while hugging the shoreline below a rocky bluff north of Lime Kiln, the oncoming current is so strong that I can't make any headway despite paddling as hard as I can.  Time to retreat.  I paddle back to a protected cove and wait 30 minutes. When I see another kayaker coming from the north, I try again, farther away from shore this time.

Next time I make it by surfing some big waves from the wind at my back. 'Twas a little scary exciting.

Four hours after I started, I glide back into the calm water of Smallpox Bay. Numerous kayak tour groups are now heading out for half-day paddles. This is the most popular put-in spot on the island for kayakers because of the nice public beach launch in the protected, scenic little bay.

So I didn't see any orcas, but a big seal did roll over on its back and scratch its belly as I glided past (just for me, of course :).  And whales or not, by my reckoning, not much beats four hours of breathing fresh sea-kissed air while kayaking in the San Juan Islands.

So have you had the thrill of seeing orcas while you were out kayaking? Or something else equally exciting?  Let us know with a comment below. Thanks!

When You Go

Numerous outfitters offer kayak tours out of Smallpox Bay, with some tours heading north and others heading south.  Discovery Sea Kayaks, San Juan Outfitters, and Outdoor Odysseys are few that offer guided tours for beginners as well as seasoned kayakers. If you're on your own, be sure and check the tides/currents for the day.

Seattle Parks: Join a Naturalist-Led Bird or Beach Walk

Early on a sunny Saturday morning—way earlier than I'd get to the office during the work week—a group of us  gather at Seattle's Discovery Park Environmental Learning Center. It's International Migratory Bird Day, and I'm here to go birdwatching with some ace birders.

With the early morning sun filtering through the verdant canopy of spring green trees, several people with binoculars hanging around their necks are scattered nearby. 

Volunteer naturalists Arne and Kate are here to lead this outing sponsored by Seattle Parks and Recreation.  For a paltry $3 each, six of us get 2 hours with seasoned birders.

And things get started before we even leave the parking lot. 

"Look for movement up in the trees," says Kate  "like right there!" Rustling high up the big-leaf maple on the edge of the lot is a western tanager, newly arrived from the tropics of Central America. It's a beautiful yellow bird with bright red on its head.

We continue for the next couple hours, wandering the forested trails and then up to the bluff past remnant buildings of historic Fort Lawson.  Along the way Kate and Arne point out to us lots of birds: a northern grosbeak, lots of sparrows, goldfinches (the Washington state bird), hummingbirds, red-winged blackbirds, juncos, a big osprey, and more.

 

Of course I don't get photos of the birds, which move too fast (like the Anna's hummingbirds we see). And I can't capture them adequately without a bigger lens. But trust me, it's a thrill to see them.

If you're on a tight schedule, bear in mind that when birders spot birds, they tend to lose track of time. I had to cut out ahead of the group to get back to my car a little after 9 to be somewhere else.

Are you a birder or wannabe? What are some of the most memorable birds you've seen in Seattle or in the region? Would love to hear your comments below.

When You Go

Besides these Saturday morning bird walks, Seattle Parks and Recreation is also sponsoring low-tide beach walks this spring and summer. For the bird walks, bring binoculars and dress for the weather. You need to preregister. Call the number at this link for a schedule and directions. And be prepared for an early morning, because, as most of us learned, the early birds get the worms.

Northwest Flavors: Raspberry Love, Mother Love

My oldest sister pestered me for years to start an edible garden, dropping not-so-subtle hints with gifts of gardening books, gardening gloves and tools, and seed packets.  While I never found much time to stay home and tend my neglected yard (think hiking, kayaking, skiing, bicycling, traveling....), this year I finally installed a raised bed garden. Why now?

Because of a very special raspberry plant.

About 6 years ago, my stepmother (and only surviving parent) Bonnie gave me a start from the row of raspberry bushes growing happily in her front yard in east Multnomah County, Oregon. Her raspberry patch came from a start that she had transplanted from the house where I grew up a few miles away.

So I toted that slender young start in a plastic bag on the train back home to Seattle and dumped it in a big pot, for lack of a decent spot in my little yard.  I thought it wasn't going to survive since it was so droopy, but Bonnie told me to keep watering, and within a couple days it perked up.

Raspberries, after all, flourish in our temperate climate west of the Cascade Mountains here in the Pacific Northwest.  I grew up picking raspberries for local farmers to earn money for summer camp. Fresh-picked berries were a summer highlight  in our home, a special treat served over homemade ice cream, heaped atop bowls of cold cereal with milk, or eaten naked and unadorned in their sweet sun-kissed splendor.

 

Bonnie loved her berries as much as any of us, and from her years growing up on a farm in Troutdale, she was blessed with a green thumb and instinctive wisdom about how to keep plants happy and thriving. And, as it turned out, she knew how to keep me happy and thriving, bringing stability and a mother's touch to our family sorely in need of such. 

You see, I unexpectedly lost my mother just a month after I turned five. My father was left a widower with five children between 5 and 16 and an all-consuming newspaper business to run.  While he loved us kids to bits, he was overextended, and for the next 6 years I was tended to by my older siblings, kindly teachers, other neighborhood moms, a few of my father's employees, hired housekeepers, camp counselors, and I'm sure others I don't recall. It was not ideal, but it was my childhood.

After a few years of mourning and then dating several women, my father hit the jackpot when he married Bonnie when I was 11.  Life became much nicer in ways I hadn't known I was missing, and I was blessed through the rest of my youth with a father and a mother in a loving home. And lots of fresh berries each summer.

With Bonnie's mind slipping away more rapidly in the last year after a long life well-lived, I suddenly felt a sense of urgency to do right by that raspberry plant. I recently looked at it, struggling to spread beyond the confines of that old pot, and knew I had to give it a better home where it could thrive.  

Just like Bonnie would. 

Despite my carelessness, that plant has grown and given me sweet fruit for several years now. (All the photos in this post are of and from that plant.) So about a month ago I hired a friend to help me install a raised bed in my front yard. I called a garden expert for advice about how to carefully transplant raspberries. 

I'm pleased to tell you that the raspberry plant is very happy in its new, bigger digs. Just look at that sweet little shoot coming up (pictured below).  Since I took that shot a couple weeks ago, more shoots are coming up and spreading their feet.

I'll tell Bonnie about it, and she'll be thrilled, although she won't remember after a few minutes. But she'll be equally thrilled when I tell her again. 

My hope is to share starts from this plant with the next generation of my family so its fruit continues to provide a sweet burst of summer for years to come. And, hopefully, an enduring connection to their grandma and auntie.

Happy Mother's Day to all you mothers, future mothers, mothers come and gone, and anyone who loves their mother, living or alive in your hearts.

And as always, I'd love to hear what you have to say on the topic of moms, gardens, raspberries, love, and life or anything else that this blog prompts you to think about. Just leave a comment below, and you'll make my week. :) Thanks!

Timberline Lodge: 75 Years of History and Mountain Fun

"This is my favorite building in the world on my favorite mountain in the world," says Richard. We're sitting at a rustic wooden table in a window alcove at Timberline Lodge on Mount Hood, overlooking what seems like half the state of Oregon spread across the horizon below us.

I completely agree with him.

When I was a teenager, I fell hard for Timberline Lodge and Mount Hood.  Our relationship started during my occasional trips there as a girl, deepened when I spent a week rooming at the lodge for ski race camp, and  cemented when I began and ended a week-long backpack trip on the TimberlineTrail at Timberline circumnavigating the mountain.

Richard and I aren't alone in how we feel about the lodge. This National Historic Landmark on Mount Hood is beloved by many for its massive free-standing stone fireplace, impressive collection of vintage 1930s artisan works, beautiful woodwork and majestic timber beams, and much more.

While Timberline Lodge has always felt grand and historic to me, this year she's celebrating her 75th anniversary as a glorious example of the Great Depression-era Worker's Progress Administration output. After some troubled early adulthood and middle-aged years, the lodge and much of its art has since been carefully restored and preserved.

Here at 6,000 feet on the southern flank of Mount Hood, historic Timberline Lodge offers a cozy refuge to sit and watch the world below, or a base for more active mountain adventures. 

This afternoon I skied the wide open, mellow slopes off the Magic Mile chairlift above the lodge. At the top of the lift, wind gusts were hitting over 30 mph and bringing the wind chill to well below freezing, so we bundled up  this April day in layers of fleece and down.

While the skiing here is not challenging, it's always exhilarating to ski down the slopes of this dormant volcano. In the summer the Palmer Lift is packed with racers and riders from around the world training in the off season.

This evening after a tasty dinner in the Ram's Head bar, we relax beside the massive stone fireplace and play old-fashioned Scrabble. Later we strike up a conversation with the couple on the sofa across from us. People are generally happy and friendly under the spell of this special place.

Part of the charms of Timberline are the many nooks and hidden places to discover, like the tiny Blue Ox Bar in the ground level (not open today). A typical room decorated in vintage 1930s-era style has been recreated on the ground level also, as a museum piece. While the old typewriters are long gone, the rooms are still cozy.

I never tire of coming to Timberline Lodge, either as a base for skiing or hiking, or to hang out and wander around. I'm just happy to help her celebrate 75 years of rustic magnificence.

What are your favorite memories of Timberline/Mount Hood? Have you ever climbed or circumnavigated the mountain?  Thanks for sharing your comments below!

When You Go
Here's a link to a list of events going on this year at Timberline, which is about an hour drive east of Portland via Highway 26. While night skiiing is done for the season this year, the Magic Mile is still operating days, and of course the Palmer Chairlift will be open for the summer on May 29.


 I

Intrigue Chocolates + Zen Dog Tea: A Perfect Pair

 
At Zen Dog Tea House Gallery in Seattle’s Crown Hill neighborhood, a delicious event is happening the third Tuesday evening each month.  You’ve probably heard of chocolate and wine tastings, but chocolatier Aaron Barthel of local Intrigue Chocolates has teamed with tea master Zen Dog for tea and chocolate tastings.  

And oh are these pairings sensational!

Zen Dog already has a growing cadre of followers for his fine Chinese teas served gong-fu style and his monthly lunar music and art events, sponsored talks, and summer tea festival.  I anticipate a whole new wave of fans now.


While having tea at Zen Dog last week, ZD (Zen Dog for short, as he likes to be called) shared with us one of Intrigue Chocolate's Zen Dog Bark chocolate truffle bars created by Barthel using Zen Dog teas.  While I don't claim to be a fancy connoisseur, I've had enough high-quality chocolate across the U.S. and Europe to know an incredible chocolate when I taste it.

The intriguing mix of exquisite dark chocolate mixed with white pu-er  and lavendar teas teased then pleased my palate. While I let the intense, rich flavor of the chocolate melt on the tongue, I felt blissful and thrillingly alive.

A good chocolate can do that.

At the time ZD and tea master Steve Bonnell were tasting a darker pu-er tea, which was not a good combination with the chocolate. For the Zen Dog Bark, the two teas infused within the chocolate (Moonlight white and  lavendar) would pair nicely, but the Dian Hong red tea, according to ZD, "really nailed it and added depth to the flavors. That pairing is a  perfect marriage in the mouth."

I stopped by Intrigue Chocolate's tasting room in Pioneer Square a couple weeks ago to taste chocolates with Aaron Barthel.  He's a happy, jovial man who loves his chosen path in life--making artisan chocolate in the French tradition. His chocolate truffles are made from mostly local and fresh ingredients using premium chocolates. I ask if he went to school to learn his craft, assuming an advanced degree.

"I'm self taught," he says with a smile.  Aaron always seems to be smiling genuine, happy smiles.  A passion for his art shines through in his exquisite chocolates, which vary by flavor month to month. My favorite today was the Fortunato No. 4, made from a rare variety of recently rediscovered organic white cacao beans grown in a remote northern Peru valley.

When You Go
The next tea/chocolate event at Zen dog will be Tuesday, April 17 from 5 to 8 pm, with a small fee of $5. You can purchase the brick bar of truffled chocolates, which would be a perfect dessert or indulgent afternoon snack to share with a friend or lover, for $9. Or stop by Intrigue Chocolate's tasting room in Pioneer Square and taste the whole gamut of this months' flavors.

Tracing Seattle History: Alki Roots

Monument marking where the Denny Party landed on Alki Beach in 1851.

A mere 150 years ago, present-day metropolitan Seattle was full of abundant old growth forests, long-gone marshes, and just a handful of European-American settlers.  My how things have changed around here.

Today my oldest sister has organized a field trip to visit sites integral to our family's, and Seattle's, history. While the weather is rain and chilly, on a sunny day this would be a fun trip for anyone with an interest in history. 

Called the birthplace of Seattle, the low-lying Alki Point area of West Seattle was where my great-great grandfather Hans Martin Hanson arrived in 1868 and settled, 17 years after the first group of settlers (the Denny Party) landed on Alki Beach. Of course when the Euro-Americans arrived, the area was already inhabited by the local Duwamish people, who had been here for thousands of years.


Although the Hanson family owned 320 acres that encompassed Alki Point for many years, alas, this prime real estate that today is packed with beachfront condos and pricey craftsman homes is no longer in the family.

 

Alki Point Lighthouse, past and present.

 We start at the Alki Point Lighthouse, which is not open to the public today. Too early in the season.  The historic lighthouse, built in 1913, sits at the westernmost point of West Seattle and the southern entrance to Elliott Bay.  Before the lighthouse was built, my great-great gramps and his family regularly put a lantern out on the point at night as a service to passing ships.

Next we stop in front of the oldest house in Seattle at 3045 64th Avenue SW, a few blocks from Alki Point and half a block from Alki Beach. You wouldn't know it by the exterior, however, because it has been renovated and is a nondescript private residence. Yea, my Hanson ancestors lived here early on too.

Before breaking for lunch at Cactus we walk around the monument pictured above, where the Denny Party landed on the beach on a dreary November day (just like today) in 1851.

Cactus is across the street from the beach and the site of the former Stockade Hotel, which was owned and run by my great-grandfather and grandmother in the early twentieth century. I'm sure the excellent Southwestern-style cuisine at Cactus is a far cry from what they served at the Stockade. Everything we order is wonderful, including my brother-in-law's huevos rancheros, the mushroom quesadilla my sister orders, and my Southwestern Caesar salad, sprinkled with black beans and corn and topped with grilled wild Mexican prawns. And the green chile biscuits truly melt in my mouth.

Cactus's goat cheese and mushroom quesadilla with guacamole

Our last stop is the Log House Museum a block inland, operated by the Southwest Seattle Historical Society. They call the museum a local gem in West Seattle, and the building is indeed a beautifully restored 1904 log building surrounded by a Northwest native plant garden. Friendly museum manager Sarah Frederick tells us the building was a carriage house for the old Fir Lodge, which later operated as the Homestead Restaurant (now closed).

I really do feel briefly transported back to another time in this log structure so unlike most houses and buildings throughout Seattle today. There's an eclectic mix of memorabilia, including a Seafair pirate costume, a few priceless small baskets woven by  local tribal members, a replica of the vessel Dix that sank in Elliott Bay (Puget Sound's worst maritime disaster), some pieces from the Stockade Hotel, and more.  There are also many historical photographs and information for research purposes. And a cool little gift shop where I purchased a great T-shirt.

We continued on to other parts of the city, but this Alki segment was a nice little two-hour chunk of time that would be educational for kids as well.

How about you? Do you have any connections to Seattle's recent or historical past?


When You Go
Here's a map of the Alki Point area, with the museum indicated. The Log House Museum requests a small donation of $4. The Alki Point Lighthouse and tower is open on Saturdays and Sundays from June to August from 1:30 p.m. to 4:00 p.m. For more information, call (206) 841-3519. Because traffic and parking can be difficult along the Alki waterfront on nice summer weekend days, I suggest taking your bicycle  or walking between these points rather than driving.

 Also of note:  Alki, commonly pronounced Alk-eye, was originally pronounced Alkee, which is Chinook for "bye and bye." The switch was made during the 1930s, but apparently the West Seattle schools are now teaching the correct pronunciation in local grade schools. Our family always used the original pronunciation.