I see now why shipbuilder and philanthropist Robert Moran chose Orcas Island to live out what he thought was his last days. I also now see why Moran lived decades longer than his doctor predicted: this place is good for your soul. Though I’m exhausted tonight from the whirlwind of activity with which we’ve managed to fill our days here, I will leave tomorrow with a smile on my face and memories that will tide me over until we arrive again.
This morning we did indeed travel to the fish hatchery on the island, feeling very privileged to have learned about this place. Our Orcas friend Ron Kinner truly hooked us up with tips on things to see that most tourists wouldn’t otherwise find. The visit to Judd Cove was one and today’s hatchery visit was the other.
We rode a short distance from our rental home and turned onto an unmarked gravel driveway a short distance north of Loon Song Lane. Then at the bottom of the long driveway was a covered work area next to an open holding tank. There wasn’t a soul around but I knew we had come to the right place.
The tide was already retreating. It was 10:30 AM, and in four hours the shore would be completely exposed. We walked around the shoreline, pointing excitedly to the ripples in the water as a salmon would stir. I gathered that the low tide would mean that any fish-jumping show we were expecting to see was not going to take place until the tide came back. So, after a few minutes staring into the murky holding tank at the half-dozen salmon swimming around, we returned to our car and headed into town.
We met our friends the Taylors as we walked around downtown and also bumped into their beach friends we saw the night before. The kids enjoyed scouring the local toy shop for items while the parents caught up again. After 15 minutes (of agony for me: I’ve never been particularly enamored of this toy shop) we moved on to the local bookshop, where we spent a good long time browsing the book selection.
Getting a decent cell phone signal anywhere on Orcas is a challenge but downtown Eastsound is a pretty safe bet for good coverage. As I shopped, I missed a call from home: a reporter on deadline wanting to get one last quote from me before her deadline in two hours. There are some things I can’t leave well enough alone when I’m on vacation, I suppose. Though I left her my number for another call-back, maybe it’s best that we never connected.
Kelly got in a panic for food, so we hit the grocery store for lunch supplies before returning to our home for lunch. After sandwiches, the kids vegged in front of the TV while Kelly read and I caught a nap. We then piled back in the car for a trip up to the top of Mount Constitution.
We of course hiked around Moran State Park earlier in our trip to the point where the kids were complaining about the prospect of doing it today. Still, we couldn’t leave until we’d reached the summit of Mount Constitution. Fortunately for lazy Americans everywhere, one can dang near drive right up to the top. We guided our trusty rented Impala to the top, hopped out, and headed up to the stone watchtower.
Inside the watchtower is a set of cubbyholes which conveniently fit our two growing kids the last time we had visited. This time around we noticed the cubbyholes have apparently shrunk, with our kids towering over the tops of their once-secret compartments. That task out of the way, we bought a few souvenirs from the Friends of Moran kiosk and headed back down the mountain.
It was time for another trip into town. Kelly and Hallie wanted to visit the bookstore again, so I dropped them off and took a snoozing Travis with me to the airport. The last time we were here the kids had had a blast looking at all the planes. Even though there was no EAA fly-in like last time, I figured we could find something to do.
We walked into the Magic Air hanger and said hello again to Rod and Allison Magner. Over the past 20 years, Rod’s flown 20,000 happy passengers in his biplane, Magic, over the San Juan Islands. Travis and I were just hanger rats – not there to fly – but Rod’s an interesting guy and I’ve been taking maximum advantage to meet the colorful people here. Though he couldn’t possibly have remembered Travis and I, Rod and I exchanged friendly stories about our perspective Navy days and he kindly let me snap a few photos of a much-bigger Travis sitting in the kiddie planes Rod keeps in the hanger. I wrote him later in an email thanking him for the visit as it wouldn’t seem like a visit to Orcas without a visit to the hanger.
Before returning to our home, we stopped by the hatchery again. It was now after 5 PM and the tide was returning. Again we drove down the winding driveway of the hatchery but this time we encountered the hatchery workers. Following Travis down the hill, I extended my hand and said hello to the facility manager there: Mike O’Connell. Mike is a super-nice guy who was happy to show his uninvited guests around the hatchery (though he smiled when I mentioned Ron had sent us).
According to Mike, the hatchery had collected 48 salmon today. He showed us how they progressed up the ladder and how the hatchery worked. While we watched, he shoved a large net down the top compartment of the ladder and fished out two salmon: one 21 inches long and the other 17 inches long. I got great pictures of these two fish but I was out of luck when it came to any action shots. Though I hovered over the fish ladder for 15 minutes straight, no more fish opted to climb it while we were there.
Saying goodbye to Mike and the staff, we returned to our rental home and cooked up our dinner. It was great to polish off our meals (and our last two beers of the trip) while the family dined on our porch overlooking these wondrous islands.
When dinner was over and the sun was sinking in the sky, I felt a tinge of regret knowing I was seeing my last Orcas sunset for a few more years. Still ahead of us was the packing, the overnight stay in Seattle, the long flights back east, and then at the end of it: reality.
Yet as I’ve come to learn, you never truly go back to the place you came. You can’t go back to the place you came: travel always changes you. That’s especially true for a trip to Orcas Island. It’s the best tonic anyone could hope for. Most of me will board a plane Saturday morning, bound for home, but part of me will remain here, waiting until once again I am reunited with this enchanted land.