Day 1 started with a dark, moody morning in Anacortes, WA, as I waited in line at the ferry terminal. The clouds hung low with a light, intermittent rain falling all around.
As the ferry set out on its journey into the Puget Sound, I was taken aback by just how stunning the surroundings were, even on such a gloomy day. The ferry itself felt a bit like stepping back in time.
M/V Chelan was a beautiful but starkly utilitarian vessel. '80s-era booth seating with faux-wood laminate countertops, vinyl banquettes, and ribbed aluminum trim. Molded plastic modular seating with squeaky-clean linoleum floors. Signage comprised of painted enamel, engraved plastic placards, and retro vinyl lettering. It was clear this vessel was built with durability and civic utility in mind rather than lavish luxury. And setting aside the physical qualities of the ship, there was just something so nostalgic about slowly making our way through misty waters, absent the urgency of modern life.
Typically when I travel, I do fairly extensive research into my destination, but this was one of the first times I decided to go in fairly blind. Naturally, I didn't quite know what to expect from the San Juan Island's port town of Friday Harbor, but as we pulled into the ferry terminal, I was immediately taken by its charm.
Even on a rainy day, there was a quaint and lively atmosphere to the town. Albeit dim from the low-hanging clouds, the trees were already beginning to show their colors as they transitioned into their autumnal form. The streets were lined with cute, colorful shops and inviting restaurants that gave it such a welcoming feel. It was the kind of place that encourages you to slow down and wander, but with just enough hustle and depth that you could forget you were on an island in the Sound.
After breakfast and a brief souvenir pit stop, my friends and I began our venture out into the island proper. Driving north on our way to Roche Harbor, I again found myself caught off guard by the size and charm of the island. Country houses and farm stands galore, it gave me the same sense of community that you feel in any small rural town. I guess what surprised me was just how familiar it felt, like I was just driving out to some mountain on the mainland. Without a direct view of the coast, I often had to remind myself we were surrounded by water.
Roche Harbor was an equally enchanting but far more commercial-feeling town on the north coast of the island. Where Friday Harbor felt like a place you live, Roche Harbor felt like a place you visit. Picture-perfect Victorian houses lined the hillside, overlooking a vast marina filled with boats of all shapes and sizes. Beautifully manicured gardens, historic buildings, and winding walkways gave the whole place an almost resort-like atmosphere. It was certainly picturesque, though I found myself appreciating the more lived-in character of Friday Harbor.
After lunch and an exploratory walk around the marina, the clouds began to clear, and that's when the foliage really started to come alive. Rich ambers, brilliant golds, and fiery reds burst from the surrounding treetops as the sun injected light into the scenery. What was already a beautiful little harbor gained a whole new dimension as the warm autumn colors and glistening wet surfaces reflected the sunlight, contrasting beautifully against the dark, rain-soaked wooden docks and cobblestone streets.
We took in the scenery one last time and then we were off to one of my most anticipated outings of the trip, Cattle Point. Located on the opposite tip of the island, it was a stunning, but brief 30-minute drive through rolling farmlands and evergreen woodlands. With the sun now out in full force, making its slow approach to the horizon, the island was alive with color and atmosphere. Sun-shafts cut through the passing trees and etched the silhouettes of the surrounding mountains with majestic backlighting. The trees were radiating with a golden glow. It was one of those drives where you start to wonder whether the journey is going to kick the destination's ass.
We arrived first at a roadside overlook that looked out to the south. Accustomed to the Oregon Coast that faces west out to the Pacific, what struck me most about the view was the presence of mountains on the horizon. What would normally appear as endless ocean was adorned with the towering silhouette of the Olympic Peninsula's Olympic Range.
Our second stop was down at South Beach, where we watched the waves bring in fresh logs of weathered driftwood. The wind was so strong you could hardly make out each others voices out over its intensifying whistle.
For our final stop of the day, we arrived at Cattle Point Interpretive Area. We first took the short trail up to the lighthouse to take in the magnificent views of the surrounding islands and distant seal-covered rocks. From here, you really get to appreciate the stark contrast that defines the southern tip of the island. Down here, the dense evergreen forest recedes into rolling, windswept grasslands, rugged bluffs, and weathered dunes, creating an ideal haven for wildlife.
After admiring the lighthouse from close up, we ventured back down to the interpretive area where we waited for a hopeful visit from some of the resident foxes that inhabit the island. It was a long wait, but evening just felt like magic. The moon was full, the sky was painted with towering cumulonimbus clouds in the distance, there was this old man serenading the air with folk tunes on his acoustic guitar, and just when we were close to giving up hope, the foxes arrived to close the night before the last light of the setting sun faded into darkness. Not a bad way to close out our first day on the islands.
