Monday, August 8, 2011

Orcas Island and How to Make a Million Bucks

One of the things I'd hoped to do while I was in the San Juans this time was to go around the south end of Lopez Island. I've been told it's especially beautiful and, since I'd not been there, I was missing out on more San Juans awesomeness. And I wanted to bag another island. As it turns out Leon and Shawna  and a group of friends were going to play in a place I'm apparently not allowed to tell you about. But it's around the south of Lopez. My plan was to paddle from Eastsound to James Island, spend the night, and then paddle around the south side of Lopez and meet up with L&S and crew and get a ride back with them. Just in case I missed them or I otherwise couldn't get a ride back I was bringing plenty of food and wine to last me back to Eastsound.

Unfortunately for me that just didn't happen. As I wasn't on vacation, just working in a different place, something happened and I couldn't go. At all. I couldn't go with L&S and crew even for a day and certainly not overnight because Lopez has seriously spotty cell service. My job requires me to be wired basically 24 hours a day Sunday - Friday so that just wasn't going to work. Ah well. I stayed and watched the store and did some work. Watching the store was pretty cool because I was "in charge". So I gave out 10% discounts to a couple of BASKers from my neck of the woods who were up paddling the San Juans on their vacation.

Anyway having missed out on the Lopez trip I planned an overnight for the weekend. Eastound to Blind Island State Park, spend the night and back. Blind Island is a truly weird state park in terms of size and location. Size wise it has 1,280 feet of shore line and it's located, I dunno, 200 yards from the Shaw Island ferry terminal. You can walk from one end to the other in, easily, 60 seconds and it's location is noisy and busy because of the ferry landing as well as the boats that go up and down the channel that's right over there. I love Blind Island because of the irony it offers me. The first time I spent the night I had the entire island to myself all night. I've never had an island, big or small, to myself before so that was just cool. And, being from a fairly urban area, there's something vaguely comforting in a troubling way about the noises of humanity all around you.

My plan was simple as could be. Leave from Eastsound (the town) on Saturday, paddle down the west side of Eastsound (the water) staying close to shore, cross Harney Channel and end up on Blind, spend the night and come back more or less directly (because of work) the next day. Simple, as I say. The trip down was as nice as one would expect being in the San Juans. I was yelled at by an otter. Here he is:



I was on the opposite side of Eastsound (the patch of water) from where Leon and I had gone to lunch. Here's Rosario Resort as seen from the other side.



A truly disappointing facet of the San Juan islands is that some time ago Washington State sold it's tidal rights to private individuals. In California, where I live, for example land that is mumbledy-mumble feet above high tide is public land. Technically you can land on any beach and, technically, nobody can tell you you can't. Some groups of people, with a strong concentration in too rich land owners, don't seem to know this so one might actually have to argue, get arrested or otherwise be required to suffer illegal indignities in order to press ones rights. In Washington though they've dispensed with this sort of institutional disingenuousness leaving us with this:


Basically the entire length of Orcas that I travelled was private. That makes landing for any reason sometimes difficult and results in commando pee breaks, if you take my meaning.

Deer though, deer are just way too cool to give a damn about property rights. Here's a couple deer on private beaches:




I'd have never pegged deer as anti-establishment vanguards of the coming class equality movement, but there you go. Those are deer on private beaches. Go deer, go!

When I got to Blind Island I discovered it was full except for one campsite. Well, technically it's never full because it's a Cascadia Marine Trail site and the etiquette is that there is always room at one of those. Which makes a lot of sense if you think about it. Planning a trip where you may or may not be able to land where you want is doable of course, but it's a pain. Not having to worry about it too much is great. You might be a little crowded, but you can get off the water for the night for certain.

The site I was in wasn't a particularly good one, it not having a truly level spot. I set up my tent on the place I thought best and made some food, drank some wine and engaged in many, many AHHHS. You know, like AHH, this is great. AHH, everyone should try this. AHH, just AHH. Here, look:



My night on the island less then stellar. I'll spare you the details but it involved fireworks, loud seals, and a bunch of kids on a guided trip that decided breaking camp at 4:30AM was just funny as hell and laughed  (loudly) until they got on the water. I was up, making coffee, at 5:15AM. I got in a few AHHs then too. You know, like AHH I'm gonna kill those f'ing kids.

The paddle back was uneventful. Here's a (bad) picture of the water:



That's Mt. Baker way back there covered in snow. During my paddle back, it being really calm and not requiring very much attention I got to thinking about my night and how much I enjoyed it. Especially the food. It was just outstanding. There is nothing, says I, nothing better than food cooked after a day's paddling. To this day I'll tell anyone foolish enough to listen that one of my best meals ever was macaroni and cheese with hot dogs after a 19 mile day.

And that's when it hit me. I know how to make a million dollars! I've never been terribly interested in making money (having it, yes, making it, no) so here's how you can do it if you're so inclined. Fair warning, it's in the food services industry.

  1. Get a restaurant that is on the water. Install a dock and a bunch of kayaks
  2. Greet patrons at the door with a warm and welcoming smile
  3. Walk them to the dock and put them in a boat
  4. Have them paddle, I dunno, a dozen miles along a scenic route
  5. When they land serve them more or less and damn thing you'd like
  6. Charge a lot. Nobody'll complain since it will be one of the best meals they've ever had

I'm tellin' ya, I would work.