The final morning of our NatHab adventure was clear.
After breakfast Joan and I did some walking about before the bus departed. Here is a good look at the pier of Roche Harbor, from one of the floating docks.
Several shops lined the sidewalk leading to the pier, and we were particularly pleased to see this one.
Several of the lime kilns from the last century, the industry that created Roche Harbor in the first place, are still standing.
Roche Harbor began as a company town, and has evolved into a privately-owned resort where you can stay in a hotel or purchase real estate. Signs explain different aspects of the harbor's history, such as this one about the chapel ...
and these about the kilns and the making of lime from limestone. (As always, click on the image to enlarge it.)
Our first destination was the Lime Kiln Lighthouse, which we had seen from the water during our orca-watching excursions. Today we could prowl around it by land. From the parking area we followed a trail through a grove of young madrone trees, noted for their bright reddish-orange peeling bark.
We had sunny glimpses of the lighthouse as we drew closer.
The more adventurous among us clambered around the rocks surrounding the lighthouse, for the view and for photos. I really like this one, looking up.
We continued walking across the spit of land supporting the lighthouse, to investigate the cove on the far side, passing a larger, fallen madrone on the way.
The cliffs on the far side are the nesting site for several dozen guillemots. They flew in and out, dropping precipitously from the cliff to gain speed, and flapping furiously as they headed out to sea. Their ability to fly looks improbable, just as that of puffins, to which they are related. No puffins here, though, it's a guillemot spot. You can't see them in this photo; they are too far away and we did not wish to disturb them.
Then it was time to drive back to Roche Harbor to pick up the members of our group that had preferred to sleep in or engage in some shopping. Joan and I dropped off the bus to briefly inspect a sculpture garden just outside the harbor; the bus would pick us up on its way back out. The "garden" has multiple paths through mowed fields, around ponds, and through the occasional grove of trees.
I shall present just four of the sculptures, to provide an impression of the place.
It was not without wildlife, included this hooded merganser family.
The bus, after picking us up, drove swiftly to Friday Harbor, to claim a place in the queue for the ferry. Missing the ferry would disrupt the schedule for the rest of the day! Once the bus was secure, we shopped and lunched in Friday Harbor. This is a snapshot of part of the town close by the waterfront.
The ferry in the next photograph, one of 22 in the Washington State Ferry System, is a close copy of ours, which was the Elwha. (Elwha is a simple anagram of "whale," which does not signify anything except that I enjoy and notice simple anagrams.) Until I started composing this blog entry I was unaware of the Elwha's star-crossed history during the 90s. Just as well, I think.
Several of us had gathered on the forward deck of the Elwha when a loud departure horn blasted, and we all jumped reflexively. At this point the captain opened one of the bridge windows, and said, "What do you want? They won't let me fire a howitzer." There's a man who enjoys his job.
A sailboat raced in the other direction, but largely parallel to us, as Friday Harbor receded from view.
Our ferry did not return directly to Anacortes; there was an intermediate stop at Lopez Island.
The deck gave us a good vantage point.
This fascinated supervisor preferred to stay behind the windows.
Then the Elwha departed Lopez Island for the main terminal at Anacortes.
From Anacortes our bus headed north to Bellingham. It was instructive to see railroad tracks and million-dollar houses close by each other, in some sections, because close to the water is where they either needed to be or wanted to be.
Melissa had arranged a late afternoon demonstration at our Bellingham hotel (the Chrysalis Inn again) by Ernestine, a Lummi woman who is actively engaged in reviving traditional crafts. This lady had a wonderful smile and a positive approach to life, acknowledging that you cannot fix the past and that it is best to go forward with a heart unburdened by anger. Her sense of humor was always cheerful, even when she was poking fun at her second husband.
Here she and one of her daughters are splitting soaked strips of cedar.
Her hand is quicker than my camera.
She brought a bounty of examples of her work.
Then it was time for our farewell dinner, at the Nimbus Restaurant, way up on the 14th floor of one of the tallest buildings in downtown Bellingham. The olive oil bread dip had been decorated in honor of our group.
The windows on the 14th floor (some say 15th, there is a brief staircase to the restaurant itself) gave us a panoramic view of the sunset, which fascinated us with the many strata of clouds that accumulate above a coastline.
The dinner was excellent, but Melissa confided on our way back that the restaurant would be closing soon, a victim of the economic slowdown and high rent. And, sadly, the Nimbus closed on or about July 4th, but its Facebook page is still active and some "exciting news" was hinted at on August 1st. A reopening of the Nimbus at any location is on the wish list of many in Bellingham. The Facebook page (you must have a Facebook account to see it) is here.
Early the next morning Joan and I flew to Seattle. We connected not to go home, however, but to fly to Pasco/Richland, also in Washington, to visit Lyn and Elisabeth Neely, longtime friends. Our tour of Washington sights will be the subject of another series of posts.
Our breakfast, as always at Roche Harbor, was at the Lime Kiln Café at the end of the dock. If you click on the photo, the nearer building says "Roche Harbor Lime & Cement Co. Largest Lime Works West of the Mississippi." We'll see more about the history of this place in a later post.
Melissa greeted us wearing a hat woven from cedar strips, the traditional material and technique used by the original islanders for many articles of clothing.
We headed off towards American Camp, on the far south side of San Juan Island. This is the encampment site for the U.S. troops protecting the American claim to the San Juans, a twin to the English Camp we visited earlier (documented halfway through the previous post).
On the way the bus stopped at the Westside Preserve.
The view included Vancouver Island, just across the strait, and the Olympic Mountains that give the San Juans their drier climate, to the left in this panorama.
We continued south, and bypassed the main Visitor Center for American Camp in favor of driving down to South Beach. The extensive grasslands on the southwestern side of the island show how little rain falls compared to the other sections.
In the above photo we are paused on Pickett's Lane to admire the grasslands. Yes, that Pickett, who in 1859 was a captain in the U.S. Army and landed with the first U.S. troops to contest ownership of the island with the English. Four years later he would lead a division of the Army of Northern Virginia at Gettsyburg, a continent away.
South Beach had the usual signage about park rules and regulations; of particular interest to me was this diagram of the rules of orca-watching. The sign is actually out-of-date, recently the no-go radius was increased from 100 to 200 yards.
The tides and winds deposit a lot of driftwood on South Beach, as this Google Maps image shows.
View Larger Map Absorbing the landscape, we scanned further and further along the horizon, and then spotted what we eventually decided was Mt. Rainier shimmering through the haze on the horizon.
Candy and Pat also strolled up the beach to admire a bald eagle perched on the driftwood.
On leaving the beach the bus turned southeast. Our goal was to walk down to a lagoon on the northern side of the island, which is not far at all because the island is less than a mile wide at this point:
View Larger Map However, the bus could not turn around on the narrow road, and we continued down Cattle Point Rd. until we could take advantage of a loop. On the way, we made a fortuitous stop wherein we discovered a fox in the flowers.
Once the bus was pointed in the right direction, those who wanted to stroll down to the lagoon disembarked and followed a nature trail through the woods. This pocket of the island was still wet enough to support banana slugs, including this black beauty.
The lagoon was enjoyable to see, and the leg stretch was welcome, but we didn't discover as much wildlife as we had hoped. It turned out this would be compensated for in the afternoon.
We returned to Roche Harbor, and sailed out for a second and final orca-watching expedition around 2:30pm. There was a lot to see just leaving the harbor area, but first, a picture of our boat for the afternoon.
On the parallel dock, the most important service boat offered by the harbor.
Leaving the harbor, we saw this floatplane come in ...
and there was this sailboat ...
and the seals were hauled out in the sun.
Traveling by water parallel to our morning's track on land, we soon approached the Lime Kiln lighthouse.
The kayakers had likely put into the water just north of the lighthouse, at San Juan County Park.
We began to see various creatures as we continued southbound. Here, a guillemot (in the rather large Alcidae family) has popped up to the surface with a beak full of small fish.
For a while there were harbor porpoises also feeding.
Then J pod appeared, and this time they were awake and barreling up from the south. Some of these photos stretched the limits of my point-and-shoot camera, but they should give you an idea of what we were seeing in person and through binoculars.
This orca is falling back into the water after having leapt completely out of the sea.
Several of the orcas were also lobtailing, or slapping their tail fins against the sea, making a loud splash. You can feel the exuberance radiating from them when they do this.
This jumper is perfectly posed, so I offer it despite any fuzziness or graininess in the image.
As the pod swiftly approached and passed us, we had many excellent looks at the orcas. The speed and unpredictability of their actions made it hard to always snap the camera at the right time or at the right orca, but here is a good shot of a youngster swimming with his mother; only her fin is showing.
Here a jumper is landing on her back with a big splash. The rings from the jump out of the water are just behind her.
One orca passed by so close to the stern of our boat that all our jaws were agape.
J pod continued to zoom north, and Melissa laid out a spread for us to nosh on after we calmed down.
We stayed out a while longer, as the laggards of J pod passed by, but this trailing edge was not as acrobatically inclined, and any pictures would just be more fins, and just fins. Then it was time to return to Roche Harbor, grinning.
We had a satisfying group dinner at McMillin's restaurant, overlooking the harbor, despite the glare of the lowering sun on our table. Unfortunately, tomorrow we would leave Roche Harbor, to eventually return to Bellingham, and that meant it was time to pack again.
