Blue Water of the San Juan Islands

Soft. That’s how it feels. Surrounded by softness. The breeze is soft on my skin. Jagged rocks are covered with inches of green moss that changes them to round, soft lumps. Decades of pine needles make the path like foam. And the sound of wind swooshing through the pine, fir and cedar trees sounds like fleece. In the distance, the haze in the air makes the islands a fuzzy, soft focus. It’s our first visit to the San Juan Islands and they are captivating. The smell of pine welcomes us to the island.

We stayed on Orcas, the largest of the chain. Orcas Island is shaped like a horseshoe and provides views of the water at every turn from its 77 miles of shoreline.Our time is filled with blue sky, warm sunshine and green trees. We hiked around Mountain Lake glimpsing glimmering, green water that captured and threw back the sunlight. A trail winds to the top of Mount Constitution (the highest point in the San Juans at 2409 feet). Below, islands float between blue sky and blue water. The “caw, caw” of crows punctures the quiet. Few cars, a small population and houses spread far between made our cabin a little spot of peace.

Mike and I took advantage of our watery surroundings. He had never seen a whale so we had to fix that! We took a boat with Outer Island Expeditions. Young, thin, tall and with curly blond hair, Captain Joe took us straight to the whales – the local pod of orcas. Their slick and shiny, black and white bodies arched out of the water in front of the boat. A thin dorsal fin sliced the water. And then playtime started. Tail slapping from whales both right side up and upside down, spy hopping (a head poking straight up from the water as though the whale was standing on its tail) and the occasional exuberant full breach. We saw whales bigger than our boat and little ones swimming next to their mothers. The next day we went kayaking in the smooth, blue water. Mt. Baker glowed across the water like a distant ghost. The highlight was a pair of seals honking, flipping and playing as we paddled past.

My sister, Alison, and her husband, Jerry, flew their Cessna to the town of Orcas Island from their home in McMinnville, Oregon where they have their helicopter business. They arrived in the Cessna that once belonged to our dad. When he died, Alison took his plane, named it, and they’ve been using Juanita ever sense. She seems happy in the Pacific Northwest (both Juanita and Alison). After two nights with us, feasting wild caught salmon and halibut, Mike and I watched as they loaded their bags into Juanita, and taxied to the end of the runway. Alison waved as they took off with a backdrop of deep, green, fir trees. My eyes teared as I watched Juanita silhouetted against the clear, blue sky. I wondered who I miss more, Alison or Dad.

Wandering through the little village of Eastsound, we noticed a small poster in the window of Mia’s restaurant. The poster advertised an ice cream social and an inaugural “bawl.” Mike and I had great success with small, local events when we lived in Cotignac and this was just the type of thing that, had we been in France, we would attend. And so, we went. Driving down a gravel road and up a hill to a clearing, small signs pointed the way to the ice cream social. In the distance a fiddle played. As we approached the wood frame barn, a couple collected our tickets and thanked us for coming. What, we asked, was the event that we were celebrating?
“Oh,” they replied, “Our new mayor, April, was recently elected. This is a party for her.”

Mike shared that he previously worked for the mayor of Annapolis and that she was the first female mayor in the city’s 300 year history. Was this by chance the first female mayor of Eastsound? They thought a minute and determined that, no, the last mayor was also female – Claire. Claire, they said, is a black lab. Being quick on my feet I inquired if April is, well, a dog.
“Oh no. April is a cow.”
Of course she is.

We asked if April was attending the ice cream social, but, alas, she couldn’t make it. She was tied up. We learned that the “election” is a fund raiser for the local pre-school. Each year, a variety of animals run for the mayor’s seat. They have campaign managers and, in some cases, their own blog. Votes for your preferred candidate are in the form of money. The one who earns the most money becomes the mayor. In April’s case, she was a write-in candidate but took 57% of the votes. She now has a weekly column in the newspaper. We were assured that April is very highly qualified for the position. And, they were correct. As we drove one last time around the tree-filled island past Eastsound, we found April at home in a small orchard. And as anyone could see, she is out standing in her field.