Sailing the San Juans: The Wrapup Takes Us Many Places

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.