This was a 14 hour hiking day and 20 hour adventure day so be warned it’s a long post.

We woke up at 2am to start our summit attempt. I was so super excited that I didn’t really care about how early it was. While getting out of tent I heard an unfamiliar voice. A guy, severely under-dressed, and shivering had entered our campsite asking if we were the pros and telling us not to dump any of our water because he needed some. Other guys in the group chatted with him and directed him to the cistern we had dug, but little did I know he would try tagging along with us the rest of the day. The first thing I had to deal with in the morning was breakfast. Because of my Hunger attack on a previous day, I was only left with Peanut Crunch Clif bars, which aren’t exactly tasty. I knew today was the last day, though, so I thought it wouldn’t be a big deal. As I gnawed on my chunky wedge of food, Dave came over and told me that a cold Clif bar just wouldn’t work for the summit morning. He had made four packs of oatmeal and insisted that I eat some. He finally handed me the bowl and told me to finish it off. With all of our gear in place we attached to our rope lines and headed off in the dark towards the summit. Our headlamps lit the way and to conserve energy we were constantly looking at the ground to step where our guides had kicked steps in the snow and ice. Jenny had acquired severe shin splints, and to accommodate her our rope line was going very slowly and making painfully small steps. We trudged onward through the dark for hours. As the sun rose we had reached the cloud level and the view was spectacular. The point when the sun rises is my favorite moment while mountain climbing. We continued onward intermittently making contact with our leech from earlier in the morning. At one point we found him wandering in a crevasse field in the dark; Margaret gave him a warning about his lack of safety which was obviously ignored. Later we came across him lying in the middle of the glacier, apparently exhausted. Margaret once again asked if he was ok, and told him, “You do realize we’re on a glacier, right? You know, with crevasses?”. When he replied, “I liked to climb alone”, we moved on. We continued onward as the wind began to pick up and the ice crust on the snow became thicker. It was at the point when the wind was whipping me in all directions, as I anchored each step with my ice ax and hiking pole, that a familiar sensation often felt on my vacations struck. I began wondering why I couldn’t just do a beach vacation, a sunny warm beach with the ocean.

After a couple more hours of hiking, we finally reached a col below the summit ridge. Here, we stopped to put on our crampons. Crampons are sharp steel spikes that attach to the mountaineering boots to provide better traction on ice. The wind at this point was indescribable and nearly unbearable. I was truly miserable at this point. The only thing getting me through was the view of the summit. The summit was hardly visible, however, because of the snow and clouds aggressively blowing over it. I tried to take some photos of this but the photos couldn’t do it justice and did not capture the wind. As we climbed up the huge ridge towards the summit, it started becoming apparent that we would not reach the top. Dave, a software engineer, had already made the calculation that we were moving too slowly to accomplish it. Forest, not wanting to crush team morale tried to tell us that the summit was still possible although we knew otherwise. After some time, Forest and Margaret collaborated and informed us that we would indeed not make it but that we could climb for another fifteen minutes to get more experience. Turning around is an important learning experience and the whole situation brought to mind the basketball quote, “Your team is only as good as it’s weakest player.” On a rope line if a single member is having a problem it affects the entire group. That, combined with the nasty wind and poor snow conditions, made our guides concerned that they could account for our safety. We started climbing back and we stopped at a somewhat sheltered area to have a group talk and eat. My stomach had been audibly rumbling for hours by this point. As I pulled out yet another Peanut Crunch Clif bar (I had eaten at least 4 earlier in the day), I watched as a smile grew over Steven’s face and he reached in his pack to produce a pristine, non crumbled PAYDAY bar. The Hunger took over. A fight ensued over Steven’s hoarding of this delicious commodity. I won’t go into details here but Steven did give me half the bar, despite me having already eaten half his Twix bar and not having shared any of my own candy. As we continued to descend, the clueless leech, who had at one time cut in between our two rope lines (a serious no-no), and who had been following us for hours because he didn’t know the route, continued up the mountain. His crampons were not on correctly, his food source was a value pack of Hersey bars, and he was carrying a JanSport backpack. Every so often he would flop on the glacier to rest, because he wasn’t pacing himself. We were concerned about him going on, but there was no stopping him.

After eleven hours of climbing we finally made it back to our camp. Everyone sprawled on the ground around our tents, and pulled out more food to eat. We started packing up camp when we noticed a man glissading down the mountain. Glissading is basically sledding on your backside, using your ice-axe to control your speed. It is a dangerous practice because you cannot see crevasses or other obstacles that might be in your path. As he slid down the mountain, we noticed he was headed straight towards a moat, a place where the snow has melted away from a warmer surface (in this case a ravine with a creek). The moat dropped down about ten feet to the creek. He was several hundred yards from our campsite but we all began yelling in hopes of catching his attention. Jumping up and down while waving our arms we yelled and yelled. Finally hearing us, he frantically began trying to stop himself. Forgetting his ice axe, he flailed wildly at the slope with his arms and legs. He skidded to a halt with his feet resting on the edge, sending piles of snow cascading down into the gap. It was another extremely close call.

After watching this near-miss, we were slightly shaken and decided it was time to leave the mountain. Camp was quickly dis-assembled, and after the gear was all packed up, we headed back down. We were all tired and somewhat miserable, but Jenny, who had never been in the backcountry before, was especially worn-out. Her shin-splints were killing her, she was out of energy, and she just wanted to be home. She was so tired that she didn’t bother to properly pack her backpack, tying a large trash bag of debris to the bottom of her pack (so that it swung and hit her legs on every step), and carrying her tent poles in her hand instead of trying to find a spot for them. Dave took pity on her, and stuffed the poles in his own pack, but it was a miserable slog for Jenny. She fell at least 4 times, sliding down the path on her backside, her boots completely filled with water as she slogged through the middle of a creek carelessly (her gaiters and boots were open to try and relieve the pressure on her shins), and that trash bag smacked her with every jolting step downward. Then, when it was nearly over, her nose started to bleed, just to add insult to injury. When we finally reached the parking lot, she tossed her bag onto the ground, collapsed, and proceeded to pour a river of water out of each boot (which prompted a “That was the most awesome thing I’ve ever seen!” from our guides).

We all piled into the cars and headed back down the mountain to the small town of Glacier, a short drive away. There, Steven and I picked up our car and we all met at a local diner for our first non-dehydrated food in a week. Each of us ordered a huge, 1/3 pound burger and a large order of fries, and nobody left anything on their plate. We all had a great time reminiscing about the trip, telling stories, and finding more out about what its like to be a guide. We also asked why more people like our unwelcome lone warrior from earlier in the day didn’t die or get injured, and our guides explained that because guides were always present on Mount Baker, clueless people were able to avoid disaster by watching what the guides who were around did. That doesn’t mean people don’t die, however, as they told us about a climber who had died in very similar circumstances to our leech only a week earlier.

When all the food was gone (which took a surprisingly short amount of time), and the conversations were done (which took a lot longer), it was time to split up and head our own separate ways. We said our farewells to the people we’d lived with (and come to really like) in the past week, hopped in our car, and sped off. 3 hours later, we pulled into the parking lot for our beautiful tree-house, took our first shower in entirely too long, and collapsed into bed. Total time awake for the day? 21 hours.

Jenny, Dave, Everett, Forest, Steven, and Lib

This was the first day for a potential summit attempt, and the night before we went to bed with the warning that we would likely be awoken at 2 AM to make the push.  I woke at 2 AM, and again at 3 AM to hear our instructors talking in the tent next door, but the call to get up never came. Forest and Margaret ultimately decided to postpone the attempt to give us an entire day to practice crevasse rescue, and to hopefully get slightly better weather for the actual attempt. They were afraid that if we did the summit attempt early, we would not be motivated to do anything the next day. What excellent foresight these guides have! Breakfast that morning was relaxed, but became increasingly exciting as we saw a sleeping mat from a campsite above us fly into the air. At first we sat watching as the mat and stuff sacks slid down the mountain, discussing the other group’s misfortune. Seconds later, however, a sleeping bag took flight – a much more serious situation. Our group immediately went scrambling out on the mountain to recover the articles. We returned them back up to their owners and returned to our camp, newly motivated to check the rocks holding down our tents. While smugly commenting on the other groups misfortune (amusingly,  they didn’t realize their stuff had gone airborne, even as we shouted to try and alert them) we saw a rain-fly literally sweep up into a funnel of air and shoot up 100 feet into the air and down the mountain. As we gaped at the spectacle of a large green tarp floating high above us, our guide shouted “Here comes the tent!” We looked up the mountain and saw a large tent rolling end-over-end towards us. The men of our team sprinted out into the snow to try and corral the tent, and Forest managed to get into its path and football tackle the tent. Once again we hiked uphill, and it was returned, without the fly, back to its campsite (this time with heavy rocks put on top of it). Apparently it is common for people to return from a summit climb and think that their tent or supplies have been stolen, as their campsite has been swept clean by the wind. With the excitement of the morning past, we put our  harnesses on and roped in as a team to walk onto the glacier so Forest and Margaret could locate the perfect crevasse to practice our rescue techniques.

After an hour and a half or so of hiking, we eventually reached an area of the glacier that was riddled with large crevasses. Our guides brought us to a halt so they could confer with one another, and soon we were hunting through the field looking for the perfect crevasse. After a short search, Forest and Margaret settled on a nice, large crevasse with no overhang and a smooth lip for us to leap off of into the deeps. At this point Forest began probing the ground around us with an avalanche probe to make sure we were on safe ground, and he soon marked off a safe perimeter for us to operate in, unroped. The ropes were quickly taken off, some extra layers were put on to ward off the cold, and we gathered around for some more instruction. After a quick review of the crevasse rescue procedure, we set to work building snow anchors to safely hold us while we worked in the crevasse. Once that was done, it was time for someone to jump into the crevasse. Two rope teams were operating at once, with each team having a rescuer and a victim. I was first up for the victim on our team, with Libby being my rescuer. (For those that worry, each rope was attached to a primary snow anchor, a secondary snow anchor, had an instructor holding it on belay, and was of course attached to the rescuer. Any one of those points are capable of stopping a fall).

Soon enough, I was sliding into the crevasse, and Libby was stopping my fall and trying to rescue me. Shortly afterwards, JR dropped into the crevasse beside me, and we settled down for a pleasant half hour of looking at the crevasse, taking pictures, and eventually discussing skiing and software. Eventually Libby started hauling me up, and before you knew it I was back on solid ground. Next up it was my turn to rescue Dave, the boisterous software engineer. He leaped into the abyss, I fell to the ground to arrest the fall, and took my turn setting up the rescue system. Rescuing someone from a crevasse, for those who are interested, involves transferring the fallen person’s weight off of you to an anchor, roping yourself safely to the anchor so you can check the victim for injuries, and then setting up a series of pulleys and “ratchets” using carabiners and knots so you can pull up the victim without losing ground if you drop the rope.

looking down 100' crevasse

Generally you set things up so that you pull with a 6-to-1 pull ratio, which allows you to rescue people much larger than yourself. Not to blow my own horn or anything, but It was here that my aptitude for knots (and my studying of Freedom of the Hills before the course) came in handy, as I proceeded to haul Dave out of the crevasse in less than 10 minutes, a full 20 minutes faster than anyone else. (Our guides words: “That system was regurgitated like a true engineer”). Unfortunately, that left Everette, the 15 year old kid on our trip, down in the crevasse by himself. Worse, his rescuer accidentally tangled all of his rope, and forgot to rig up a few knots ahead of the fall, so he spent by the far the longest time in the crevasse. By the time we pulled him out, he was in full-blown freakout mode, and needed a little time to recover. The poor kid could be heard shouting every time the rope slipped a little bit and he slid further into the crevasse.

Finally, it was Libby’s turn to go into the crevasse, and Dave’s turn to pull her out. Libby bravely walked up to the edge, sat down, and counted “1, 2, …I can’t do this!”. She then proceeded to sit there at the edge for several minutes, mustering up the courage to leap in. Eventually, she took a deep breath, pushed off the side, and with only a small blood-curdling scream, plummeted 4 feet down into the crack. For this show of bravery, she was rewarded with: peals of laughter from above, as everyone from her rescuer to the guides collapsed to the ground, giggling helplessly. Libby was a trooper, though, and after only a few more small screams (as the rope settled into the snow and slid her further down), pulled out the camera and spent the rest of her time taking pictures of the depths of the crevasse. The inside of the crevasse is actually an awe-inspiring place, as the deep blue ice slices deep out of sight into the glacier, with wild formations, shapes, and caves carved into the sides by dripping water.

Once Libby was safely pulled up, it was time to head back to camp for supper. We proceeded to hike back to camp to boil water and prepare for what we knew would be our summit attempt early the next morning. With everything in camp ship-shape, we slipped into bed early, ready to rise again in 6 hours.

After raining all night, it continued raining into the morning. We made breakfast in the rain and packed up camp, in hopes of moving up to a higher camp later in the day. In a constant downpour we practiced knot tying on a rope suspended between two trees. It was extremely cold and while we learned and practiced Margaret continually made us hot drinks, including a mountaineering favorite: Hot Nuun. Nuun is an electrolyte tablet that can be added to water that tastes like Tang and is

Dave and Everett

ridiculously delicious. I am pretty sure, like other foods and beverages on the mountain, in normal life, it is probably repulsive. We also learned how to set up the ropes for a crevasse rescue system called a “Drop C-Z.” After several instructional hours, and soaking wet, our instructors decided that our cold wetness was probably hampering our ability to retain information. We unpacked camp and tucked into our sleeping bags. I had brought Robinson Crusoe with me to read but after a couple of pages found that my arms were too sore to hold the book up to read. I settled in for on and off sleep with intermittent moments of pure hunger, while Steven read away in his book. I was uncomfortably hungry and found myself nibbling away at parts of my lunches trying to justify making them smaller. In the course of a couple of hours I had cleaned through most of my snacks, some of Stevens, and part of my lunches. It was not a proud time on my part. After awhile we heard Forest and Margaret circling around the tent to inform us we would be hiking to our next camp. Steven of course snitched on me for eating all of my food. Although in retrospect he could have been worried about The Hunger getting the best of me. The hike up to the Hog’s Back camp site was almost entirely on snow. The packs of course were heavy and the weather of course of was rainy. We set up camp on a small area of rocks with careful attention to anchor our tent with heavy rocks. With harnesses back on we again practiced walking as a rope team. We made it back to camp for a late dinner and headed to our bags pretty exhausted.

Still hungry,

Paydays are like GOLD Lib and Hiding his rations Steven

Today Margaret, our second guide, joined the group. We woke up to Forest and Margaret joking as she unpacked her bag and arranged things. We made breakfast (everyone pooled water for boiling and then divided it up for instant oatmeal, except for Jenny who ate a Clif bar and buffalo sticks). Afterward, camp was tidied up, food was hidden inside sleeping bags in the tent, layers were thrown into our packs and we headed off down the moraine to the glacier. There, we pulled on our harnesses for the first time ad learned how to use crampons. (4 wheel drive!) There is a particular method to walking with crampons that we all had to learn- a waddling, slightly duck-footed gate to keep from shredding your pants and legs. You also have to learn to keep your feet parallel to the ground at all times so the tines can bite, unlike normal boots where you often use the edges in steep terrain. This required a level of ankle flexibility most of us lacked. After walking around on the ice, trying to see how steep a slope we could climb without sprawling on our faces, we roped up and learned how to move in a four man rope team. This required constant communication and coordination to keep ropes spread out but moving smoothly. We moved around the glacier for a couple of hours, practicing our crampon and rope skills while looking for an appropriate place to practice crevasse rescue. When none of the crevasses in the area looked promising, we headed back to a flatter area to practice building snow anchors. Along the way we learned more about the dangers of the glacier as we passed under an ice fall and we were encouraged not to stop as we were in the firing range. While eating lunch we got another scare, as several hundred feet above us on the top of a moraine some hikers appeared. Their dog spotted a marmot and leaped off the ridge and onto the steep loose shoulder to give chase. It soon realized the danger it was in and started trying to reach its owners above. It couldn’t make it back up, however, and on each attempt it would lose traction, falling and skidding down the slope towards the sheer cliff immediately below. Worse, his owners lay down on the the ridge, hanging over the highly unstable edge in an attempt to reach him. Everyone held their breath in horror, and our guides were certain that we were going to shortly be dealing with at best a dead dog. Fortunately, the dog managed to lunge close enough to the top for his owners to snag his paw and pull him to safety. After that hair raising experience, we got to practice building snow anchors (digging a trench with your ice axe and burying the axe or another strong object with a sling tied around it in the trench). We then moved on to the most amusing part of the day; crevasse self arrest. We were roped into pairs and took turns being the victim and rescuer. The victim would run downhill, yanking the rescuer off their feet, who then had to preform a self-arrest to stop the “fall”. Once stopped the rescuer had to build a snow anchor while holding the victim (who was pulling with all their might), and then transfer the rope holding the victim to the anchor. Some people performed their roles as victim more vigorously than others of course. Finally, we headed back up to camp for supper. The water was boiled and everyone prepared their food, and then we all sat together eating and drinking hot cocoa and chatting. Forest impressed us all by making homemade, fresh Thai, with peanut sauce and fish while we enjoyed freeze dried meals. Shortly afterward, the heavier rain started to hit and everyone retreated to their tent for the night. It was decided that Jenny should have the middle position in the tent between Libby and I to keep her warmer. With the design of the tent being an asymmetrical almost pentagon shape, Lib and I found our feet smooshed against the wet ends of the tent while Jenny, who stands at 5’1”, had plenty of room to stretch out and store stuff above her head. She had also acquired Libby’s never before worn Patagonia Capalene shirt to go with the one she had borrowed from me earlier.

Trip score so far: Jenny has acquired all the water from one of our bottles, Dave’s spoon or fork (whichever he was not using), two Patagonia shirts, prime tent space, ice ax and two ice screws (brought to camp by Margaret). (Reader, before you start feeling resentment for our groupmate just know that the trip proves to be miserable for this camper).

Off to snooze,

One Shirt-Less Steven and Libby

What a way to spend a one year anniversary?!

We left downtown Seattle at 5:30 am to drive to Glacier Ranger Station at the base of Mount Baker. During the entire two hour drive there was a steady cold rain. Under a small overhang outside of the station we met the rest of our group, Dave and J.R., also software engineers, Jenny, Everett, and Forest, our guide. We dumped our packs and did a quick gear check. We had our first worry when Forest mentioned to Jenny it was rare he had to tell someone they had not brought enough stuff. Steven graciously, after several moments of hesitation, offered his brand new Patagonia Capilene 3, top of the line shirt to our egregiously under packed group mate. Forest then instructed us on the mountaineering style of packing a pack which is different than backpacking. With our packs full, and brief introductions out the way, we carpooled down to the trail head. We set off down the Heliotrope trail in our plastic Koflach mountaineering boots and knee high gators with our ice axes, crampons, zero degree bags, pounds of food and supplies packed away. The hike was not easy. There was a steady and sometimes steep incline the entire way. There was a challenging creek crossing that promptly soaked our feet. The moment before that crossing would be the last time my feet would be dry for the rest of the trip. It was not long after the creek that we started crossing snow fields. The pleasant smell of the Douglas firs and the absolutely lush environment was gorgeous and made the grueling hike bearable. The misting rain continued through the several hour hike and validated the claim that Mount Baker gets more precipitation than anywhere else in the United States. We reached our first campsite Mirkwood. We put down our heavy packs and Jenny reached in her pack and pulled out a completely empty Platypus water bottle. As she took the wrapper off Forest asked if that meant she hadn’t carried up any water, and asked her when the last time she had had any water. 5 am. Steven handed her an extra Nalgene and told her to start chugging. Mirkwood is an ancient growth rainforest with moss growing on and hanging from the trees. The site is on a moraine, an area of rock and debris pushed up the surface by the Coleman Glacier. We decided on tent groups and Jenny was placed in a group with Steven and I. We set up camp in the rain and hiked onto the glacier. Once on the glacier, Forest taught us how to walk on snow with our mountaineering boots to maximize our efficiency. We learned uphill, downhill, side foot, crossover, duck walk and plunge step. What was seemingly easy was actually awkward. From the glacier there was an amazing view of hundreds of crevasses. Crevasses are the cracks that form in the glacier that can be hundreds of feet deep. They also pose the greatest threat to climbers as they are not always visible because the top can be covered in snow or a thin layer of ice. A major skill of mountaineering is knowing crevasse rescue. The main reason teams are roped together is to aid in rescue. On the opposite side of the crevasse field was a view of Mirkwood. From the glacier the moraine appears as a cliff with the edges exposed and crumbly. Every so often a loud crash could be heard with rocks plummeting off the edge. Forest pointed out to us the danger of hiking near the edge of a moraine as they are quite unstable. An aspect of a glacier is that the ice is in motion therefore the glacier has many of the same properties as a river, although it moves much slower. (Glaciology 101). After mastering the art of walking on the snow, we pulled out our ice axes for an explanation of self arrest. Self arrest is the technique of stopping yourself and/or your team from falling down a glacier or into a crevasse. Using the ice ax, you fall to the ground, dig the pick of the ice ax into the snow and ice and dig your feet in the snow. We practiced self arresting while falling forward, backwards, and upside down the mountain. This practice was fun and got us even wetter. We headed back to camp to cook dinner. At this point Forest graciously offered to fill everyone’s water bottles at the nearby creek. Ten minutes of so later he reappeared with a pack full of water bottles and a sheepish expression on his face “So, uh, who has the reaaaally slippery orange Nalgene?” Dave chimed in, “You mean ‘had’ right?” And somewhere in the North Cascades is my dear water bottle from Indiana’s only mountaineering store. At dinnertime Jenny realized that she had no utensils with which to eat. We made hot drinks, something we would do very often on the trip and went to bed after a long day.
Signing off,
Soaky Socks Lib and Grey Jumpsuit Steven

The gear is all packed, the route is mapped out, and we’re tucked in bed ready for tomorrow.

We’ll be back to civilization on the evening of the 18th, so until then, goodbye everyone!

Today we decided to head over to Orcas Island, the other large island in the San Juan archipelago. Our hippie guide had told us that this island was far less touristy than San Juan Island, and so Libby and I had high hopes for this trip. We got up reasonably early, and caught the rusty-sided inter-island ferry for what we thought would be a quick hop over to Orcas Island; after all, we could see it from our island just across a small straight.

We soon found that we were slightly mistaken. The ferry ride was short, in distance at least. We couldn’t have gone more than a couple of miles as the crow flies. But due to the twisted nature of the waters in the islands, with scores of tiny islets, hidden rocks, and twisting channels, it took us nearly an hour to arrive. In the meantime, we got to enjoy a leisurely morning cruise past all sorts of nature preserves, as our ferry carefully picked its way from one safe channel to another.

Upon arriving, we drove off the island and eagerly headed to the first town we saw on the island map. Here we found a very cute town with lots of little cafes, a good bookstore, and a nice farmers market / whole foods store. Our first stop was at the book store, where we both picked up several books and magazines for the beach. We then explored a little bit, and settled down at a cafe that looked promising for lunch. After eating, we continued looking around the town, eventually buying our first souvenirs of the trip (at least, souvenirs that aren’t vampire related).

After we were finished looking at the town, we decided to head out towards the next town on our map – the largest one shown in fact, to see what it was like. We planned to continue on from there to a nearby state park for some hiking. It soon became apparent that something was wrong, however, as my navigator kept on telling me to take streets that didn’t exist, and a small squabble erupted as I mostly ignored those directions. I figured that turning onto imaginary streets was a poor idea, and that if we just continued in the right general direction we would eventually find a street name we recognized. Eventually we realized what our problem was: we hadn’t been in the right town to begin with. We’d actually overshot the first town we’d planned to go to, and had already been in the largest town on the island. This simplified things greatly, and we continued on towards the state park that we were already nearly in.

Once in the state park, we followed the signs for the small mountain that was the centerpiece of the park, and the largest mountain on the island. Here my navigator started having issues again, as we had to pick our way up a narrow, one and a half lane road to reach the trail head. I chose to ignore the screams of terror, however, and continued on towards the top. When we reached the parking lot, we hopped out and headed up the short path to the top and the observation tower built there. From the tower we had amazing views of all sides of the island, and got some great pictures of Mount Baker looming over us, Victoria in the distance with the Olympic mountains behind it, and even a few shots of Mount Rainier way off in the distance. We both agreed that it wasn’t quite as exciting or fulfilling driving to the top of the mountain instead of hiking, but having it accessible to everyone was worth the trade off.

After the harrowing drive down from Mount Constitution (mostly harrowing because of the incessant screaming by my passenger), we headed on to Doe Bay to check out the resort that had been recommended there. When we arrived we found a small, quiet collection of cabins, a large camping ground, some Yurts, and a great cliff-side view of the ocean, with a nice rock beach and lots of small tide pools. We sat on a bench by the ocean for a while, enjoying the breeze, before deciding to try out the soaking pools and sauna that overlooked the ocean. Given the source of the recommendation for these pools, and the presence of the Yurts at the resort, we should have known to be wary. It wasn’t until we got there, however, that we realized the pools were clothing optional. Since we were already changed, and it was during family hour, we decided to risk it. Sure enough, there was a small family with young children already present, and fully clothed. This reassured us somewhat, and after showering and sitting in the sauna for a little bit, we hopped into one of the pools. It was very relaxing, with the smell of the salt water drifting in off the ocean, and the trees all around us. Before long, however, our relaxation was brought to an abrupt end as several men came in, and jumped into the pool with us. Both had to decided to let it all hang out, as they say, and Libby was less than pleased to be sharing a bench with them. After waiting just long enough to not be rude, we got out and headed to the changing room.

Following our close encounter with nature at the soaking pools, we decided that it was time to head back to the hotel. We got to the terminal with plenty of time to catch the last ferry off, and after a short wait we headed back to San Juan Island.

Signing off,

Fully Clothed Lib and Soaking Steven

Travel question of the day: Do you think its just coincidence that every activity on this island is $95 for 3 hours?

There’s a time in your travels when your clothes are wrinkled, they stink, you can’t eat out for one more meal, you miss your bed and long a bit for home. That was today. The homesickness bug hit both Steven and I at the same time. We moped around. We read our books and wrote in our hotel room. But then we realized that we were on an island and there was not the time to be moping. So I decided to do would any reasonable person would do, find a hippie and ask where the cool non touristy spots on this island are. Luckily one such folk happened to be working at the front desk. Having felt deflated by my island hopes and getting no sleep thanks to the karaoke at the bar across the street and the bar brawl literally outside my window, I dragged myself to the front desk of the hotel with dark circles and bags under my eyes. I told the lady that I came to the island to hike, bike, and see wildlife and I am not dealing well with the tourist/bar fanfare. She smiled, pulled out a map and put her thumb down. She said, “See my thumb?” I nodded. “That is covering the tourist section of this island. Everything else is the island.” She grabbed a pen and started circling places to visit like Fourth of July Beach, Jackel’s Lagoon, Grandma’s Bay, and Eagle Cove. She continued by explaining the best places to skinny dip should it strike my fancy. With new found hope Steven and set off in our car to see the most fantastic view of the sun setting with Mt. Baker in the distance. Having left Friday Harbor behind it was unbelievable to think that most tourists would not leave the kitchy downtown entertainment to explore the natural wonders of the actual island. We first headed towards Fourth of July Beach, what was supposed to be one of the most beautiful beaches on the island. Unfortunately, when we got there we found the parking lot overrun by what I’m sure were rabid foxes. Out of nowhere they had surrounded our car. Steven was all for hopping out and going to the beach still; he was sure they would be afraid of him. I convinced him otherwise though, and we set off to the next beach. The sun setting around the islands with the mountains in the distance was a beautiful site. We arrived at the next beach, South Beach, and proceeded to walk along it as the sun set. Of course, the foxes had followed us, but by this point we were already walking so we just picked up some rocks in case they got too close. After watching the sun set, we headed back to the hotel.

PS-You know you’ve been on vacation too long when you begin to be asked directions to places by other people, and worse, you know the answers.

Off to make the most of our trip,

Hippie appreciating Libby and Hippie smelling Steven

Our morning began a little slowly today, as we tried to recover from the effects of the long drive yesterday and the loud town noises outside our window last night. We stumbled down to our breakfast, and while eating noticed that our hotel had beach cruiser bikes, similar to what we had used for our wedding, available for guest use. We decided that a bike tour of Friday Harbor would be a fun way to begin our stay on the island, so after finishing up, we hopped on the bikes and headed into town. What we hadn’t counted on was the island being quite so hilly, or our bikes being set up with a gear more appropriate for the flats of Indiana. The single gear was so hard that even pedaling in the few flats we found wasn’t easy, so we found ourselves grinding our way up every hill at a snails pace. Even more troubling was how weak the coaster brake in the rear was, as each downhill became a struggle to avoid a high speed crash. Worst of all, we didn’t really become aware of the full extent of the problem until we were on a six mile scenic loop, and we were too stubborn to give up on our imagined “pleasant coastal ride” until we were nearly halfway through the loop. Deciding that we might as well finish the loop, we continued on, priding ourselves at least on our ability to pass a small family of fellow hotel guests who had made the same mistake. They were walking their bikes up a particularly steep hill, which we disdained to do, confident in our bike riding prowess. Of course, three quarters of the way up the hill Steven’s chain popped off the bike from too much strain. We then got to watch as the small family happily walked past us, mounted their bikes, and rode off while Steven struggled to fix his bike.

The Zodiac

With our bike ride complete, we decided to try out one of the whale watching tours the island is famous for. We opted for the tour on the smaller boat after learning that this was the “adventure” tour; we would have to wear wet suits and would be tearing around the ocean at high speed. We left our larger camera behind because we had been informed that we would get a lot of water sprayed on us, and everything we didn’t want to get wet had to be stashed under our wetsuits. When we arrived at the tour company our excitement mounted as we found that we would be wearing not wetsuits but cold water survival suits. The suits were huge. They covered us from ankle to neck and contained inflation compartments along with areas that could retain body heat. Our boat for the adventure was a Zodiac similar to what is used by the Coast Guard. Steven and I were chosen to sit in the front of the boat; which was the adventurous seat in which we would get sprayed and jostled “like a cowboy”. We took an hour long boat ride around the islands to get to a prime location for the whales. The scenery, as we are finding on our travels, was stunning. The boat zipped along at extremely fast speeds but in our monkey suits we felt safe. We did not, however, get even get a drop of water on our suits by the time we reached the Canadian border. At this point the suit had managed to retain every drop of sweat inside and became less of a novelty.

Boats are required to stay about 100 yards away from the Orcas, but the Orcas are 25 feet long and are well seen from the distance. It was pretty cool to see the whales coming up to take breaths and then diving again. We soon learned that you could tell the females and males apart, as the males have much larger dorsal fins. After a while we even got to see several young Orcas playing, with one even breaching out of the water several times. Our naturalist guide told us all sorts of interesting information about the whales: this particular pod only eats salmon, for instance, and that the population of whales in the San Juan islands was almost wiped out in the seventies because of capturing for aquariums until it was discovered how small the population actually is (there are only about 150 Orcas in the area). It was also interesting to see that she could identify all the individual whales with just a glance from the distance, based on their dorsal fins and markings. This allowed her to give us a quick history of all the animals we were seeing. Grandma, the matriarch of the pod, is 99 years old right now, and still going strong.

After drifting along with the whales for an hour and a half or so, we turned and headed back for shore. Along the way we stopped by several small islands that were wildlife preserves to catch some glimpses of harbor seals and bald eagles. Once back on the wharf, we gratefully pulled off our sweat soaked suits, feeling sorry for the next user, and headed off to explore the island some more.

We used our hotel map to wander the island in our car. Being the navigator was a bit frustrating until I realized our map was not to scale but was a Disney World type of map. Exhausted, we decided to head back to the Bird Rock.

Off to snooze,

Orca observing Steven and Still dry in my survival suit Libby

Travel question of the day: How much trouble is the guy in that was using the whale watching binoculars to check out a bikini clad woman on a yacht while sitting in the zodiac with his wife and mother and father in law?

Our Garmin wasn't quite sure what to make of a ferry trip

Today was mainly a traveling day. We drove to Port Townsend and took a ferry to Whidbey Island. I had never been on a ferry and found it pretty fascinating that you can drive your car onto the boat, park it, and walk around. I was a bit worried about the car going over the edge but have learned to trust Steven’s driving skills. On the way through Whidbey Island we stopped at Fort Casey State Park. It was a naval base built at the turn of the century to defend Puget Sound, which was then used as a training base in WWI and WWII. It is interesting because from the coast the base is not visible. It is built into the bluffs and in case of an attack the large guns arehoisted above ground. It was actually very fascinating. Steven described how the guns work and gave a brief history of pertinent WWII information. After snapping some pictures, we continued our drive up through the island and found our second ferry for the day that would be taking us to Friday Harbor on San Juan Island. We thought that we had arrived in plenty of time; we were over an hour early. We paid our fare, lined up for the ferry, and then the ferry ended up being full. Once you are in the line there is no way to leave so we had to sit in our car for the next three hours until the ferry returned. The end result of this was two somewhat grumpy and uncomfortable people sitting still in a hot car for four hours and going nowhere. On the bright side, we did get some more of our thank you cards done. Eventually the ferry returned, and we boarded for San Juan Island.

The ferry to Friday Harbor was massive, being capable of transporting 200 cars and 2,000 people at once. We ended being placed on the second deck ramp at the very end of the boat, pointing down towards the ocean. If Steven hit the gas instead of brake our dear rental would have been in the harbor. Terrified I managed by this point of the trip to keep my squeals under wrap. Once the ferry was under way we both hopped out and ran up to the upper deck of the ferry to take some more pictures and enjoy the cool air. After a while the excitement of being out of the car and up in the ocean breeze waned a little, and we headed into the passenger area to write more thank you cards and read a little. Finally, after an hour and half ferry ride, we made it onto San Juan island. (At this point we had been in the car for about 11 hours). We navigated our way right off the ramp and to our hotel, The Bird Rock Hotel. By now we were starving, as it was late in the evening and we hadn’t eaten anything since a hastily grabbed Subway sandwich 7 hours before. The Hunger was in full force for both Steven and I, and as usual when feeling its effects, we headed straight to the first place we saw that served food. It ended up being a greasy seafood shop. While getting fish and chips from a greasy waterfront stand made Steven happy, it left both of us a little queasy too. Of course, immediately after scarfing down our food, we walked around the corner and ran straight into a nice little cafe that would have been perfect, if only we’d had the will power to walk a little further. We have accepted for a long time that when the Hunger hits we aren’t capable of thinking properly, so we noted its location and headed back to bed.

On the island,

Mussel eating Steven and Clam devouring Libby

Traveling question of the day: If you get sick while in your car on a ferry would you consider it sea sickness or car sickness?