I’m paddling a kayak in the sunshine, fighting the choppy blue waters of the Salish Sea, and I can’t get a Backstreet Boys song out of my head.
I’m a self-proclaimed indie music snob, which has allowed me to turn my nose up at boy bands for most of my life. But recently they’ve found a weakness and invaded the inner sanctum of my hippocampus. I blame my 7-year-old daughter, Grace, who, for the past few weeks, has been begging me over and over again to play a heavy rotation of Backstreet Boys music videos on Youtube.
Now, I’m staring into the bluest of blue skies, enjoying a salt water spray on my face and humming “I Want It That Way.” This was hardly the soundtrack I envisioned for my first kayak camping trip on the Cascadia Marine Trail.
I shake my head, put my head down and give it all I have to give; I’ve got a ways to go before landing across Rosario Strait on a rocky Cypress Island beach.
Anywhere for you
During the summer months, my friend Brian drives around with his kayak strapped to the top of his Subaru Outback at all times. The thought being that he may find himself near a body of water at any moment and, if the feeling catches him, he can drag the boat down, slide it into the water and paddle out into peace and quiet.
I have three kids at home under the age of 10, so it’s a freedom I envy. When Brian asked me if I’d like to accompany him on a kayak camping trip to Cypress Island in the San Juans, I jumped at the opportunity. The fact I didn’t own a kayak was a mere formality.
We look up the tide conditions and plan for a mid-June trip, crossing from Washington Park near the Anacortes ferry dock over to Cypress Island. We’ll camp on Cypress Head, which juts out from the east coast of the island like the shape of my heart.
First, I need a little practice. A month before the trip, I join Brian and his friend April for a trip to La Conner to get some time in a boat. We meet Bob Meade, who owns La Conner Kayak, which operates on the dock south of the boardwalk. Meade is a wealth of information, and he takes me under his wing right away. He puts me in one of his favorite kayaks and explains how to paddle and use the rudder, as well as the best routes in and around Swinomish Channel.
Practice goes well and it gives me confidence that the trip will be a success. When we return, Meade offers to sell me one of his oldest kayaks for $200. Its rudder is broken, he says, but it runs true. Quit playing games, I shoot back. But he’s not. So I buy it. I’ve got a boat, a Wilderness Systems Sealution, and we’ve officially got it goin’ on. We’re ready.
Asking to drown
The morning of departure we unload our boats near the beach, load our gear in them and park our cars in the overnight parking lot at Washington Park. A woman who has the look of a rather experienced kayaker mulls around our boats and strikes up a conversation. She’s a local kayak instructor, it turns out, and she has thoughts.
April has decided to join Brian and I on our trip, and the instructor is concerned her smaller boat won’t hold up in the rougher waters in the strait. Then she turns her wary gaze to me and my second-hand kayak. I tell her I’m planning to come back on my own a day early. “Do you have a radio? Do you have a wetsuit?” she asks.
I’m taken aback. No, I say.
“Well, you’re asking to drown out there,” she says. “In that cold of water, you have 10 minutes to get back in your kayak before your extremities stop working. An hour, and you’re dead.”
Gulp. Brian has the type of gear that could help in a dire situation, but in a world like this, I’m heading out unprepared and one bad decision could turn deadly. If you stay, we’ll take care of you, my buddy jokes. I make the call to stay the extra day and come back with the group.
We push off from the beach and head straight for Cypress Island, pointing our bows across Rosario Strait. We’re running a bit late, so the tide and currents are mixing into a soupy jumble in the middle of the strait. For a while it feels like we’re taking one step forward, then two steps back. We dodge pleasure crafts, fishing trawlers and one ferry, larger than life as it passes in front of us. After two hours, we land on a beach on the south shore of Cypress Island.
We’re tired and a bit dizzy from the swaying. We still have another 90-minute trip from here to Cypress Head, but for now we crack some well-earned beers, lean back on a set of rocky outcroppings and gaze toward the sun and the mainland from whence we just came.
Show me the meaning of being lonely
Stretching from Olympia to Canada, the Cascadia Marine Trail is a set of island parks that boaters can stop at and explore, gaining the full San Juan Islands experience in the process. Some are state parks with campsites, while others are operated by the Department of Natural Resources and are just for day use.
There are 172 islands in the San Juans and nearly 50 spots to visit or stay along the Cascadia Marine Trail. Kayakers can easily visit one park after the next in succession, camping their way through the San Juans. Many of the parks on the trail can’t be reached by ferry, including the two on Cypress Island: Cypress Head and Pelican Beach.
The sites are varied in their quality. Most are primitive, with nothing more than pit-toilets and picnic tables. The sites at Cypress Head are perfect for a getaway. Nearly 10 campsites are scattered along the northern portion of the tiny island, most with plenty of room to forget anyone else is there.
We make it to Cypress Head in the early afternoon, beach our boats and start to unpack. We take turns lugging our gear up to a campsite we’ve staked on the east side of the small island. I pitch my tent on a patch of grass that looks out over the water toward Guemes and Lummi islands. The world continues to turn over there, but it stands still on the island. Boats slowly drift by and cormorants swoop and sway over the gray boulders below. Seals leap out of the water, trying to catch some lunch.
The next day, we kayak circles around the Cone Islands north of Cypress Head, and then to Eagle Harbor and beach our boats. There’s one road on Cypress Island, but dozens of trails criss-cross the northern part of the island. We hike out from the beach on Eagle Harbor up to Eagle Cliff to get a 360-degree view of Orcas, Blakely, Guemes, Lummi and other small islands.
On the day we’re set to leave, the weather turns damp, gray and foggy. We decide to take a different route home, instead heading across the Bellingham Channel to Guemes, then south toward Anacortes and east to Washington Park. I’m glad I stayed for the extra day, and not just because I’m still alive. It’s more than that. The additional time on the island allowed time to stand still for just that much longer.
As we leave, I’m revisited by the familiar dulcet tones of Nick Carter and Co. Backstreet’s back. All right, I think, and keep paddling.
More information
To learn more about the Cascadia Marine Trail, visit www.wwta.org/home/water-trails/cascadia-marine-trail. For more on kayaking, I’d recommend visiting http://www.nsska.com and taking some courses with the North Sound Sea Kayaking Association. To rent kayaks from Bob Meade, visit www.laconnerkayak.com.
Talk to us
> Give us your news tips.
> Send us a letter to the editor.
> More Herald contact information.
Gallery
