We trudged up the wooded path from the parking lot of Lime Kiln Point State Park, the so-called "whale-watching park" of Washington's San Juan Island, armed with borrowed binoculars, jackets and hope. It was only 10 a.m., with fog still hanging in the air. Surely the time for orcas to linger in the spot where everyone always said they were seen.
Then we saw the handwritten sign: "Whales went north at 9:30 a.m."
Yeah, right, we sniggered, clambering onto the rocks and listening to the plaintive wail of the little white lighthouse. Just somebody trying to throw us off the trail, to keep these black-and-white beauties for themselves. We weren't fooled. We zipped up our jackets, girded for the wait.
Of course, they never did come.
That was three years ago, on my second trip to the main island in this archipelago just south of the British Columbia border, this orca capital, this reluctant site of "Free Willy" fame.
You've seen those "Free Willy" movies filmed in and around San Juan Island's main town, Friday Harbor. The ones where the orcas - particularly Willy, played by trained orca Keiko - swarm to humans on shore like dogs whose masters have come home.
In real life, it may be a basic element of Pacific Northwest nature that these large dolphins known as "killer whales" often elude those who look the hardest for them, and reward with chance encounters those who have left them alone. In short, Willy is free to delight - and free to ignore you.
This is a part of the country where things immovable as mountains can disappear utterly in haze, not to be found from the same vantage point from one day to the next. Some days from Mount Constitution, the highest point on nearby Orcas Island, you can see Mount Rainier 125 miles south, and all the natural beauty in between. On other days, you cannot see as far as that bottle of wine you optimistically hold in front of you to toast the view that isn't.
San Juan Island, with its twisted trees, placid coves and twinkling marinas, is so achingly beautiful that perhaps it needs some quest to keep its visitors and residents from dying of happiness. A journey that challenges and tantalizes, offering day by day the chance - but only the chance - of fulfillment.
It is a place that needs tension, in its own way. For 12 years, that was supplied by a joint occupation of American and British soldiers, who clashed over which country owned the island. In 1859, they nearly came to war over the death of a pig.
For modern drama, look to 90 "resident" orcas, traveling in pods called J, K and L, tied unerringly to their matriarchs and faithfully to this island. Their patterns have been painstakingly recorded by researchers, and to a certain extent they are predictable: The orcas will follow the rich runs of chum salmon through the waters of Haro Strait.
But they also go where they will. And sometimes even the 50 to 100 boats that seek them each day from April to October have no idea where they are. I had seen the San Juan orcas once - after the endless walks on beaches and vigils from the whale-watching park yielded nothing - after I forked over the typical $45 fee for a three- to four-hour cruise that still does not guarantee a sighting. On a Western Prince boat we sailed out of Friday Harbor, pausing to note the seals sunning themselves on a rock that matched them precisely in color. We cruised for a while without luck, and I began to claim that, really, I wasn't that interested in seeing whales.
And then we saw them. Towering dorsal fins first, taller than our whole bodies. They were "traveling," which meant they wanted to get somewhere in a hurry and didn't want to stop to play with us. They swam with a singular purpose, heavy as small passenger ferries, sleek and speedy as cigarette boats. Nobody but the naturalist on board really spoke. All we humans wanted to do was watch them breathe, the water cascading from their blowholes, their gleaming black backs appearing and disappearing side by side.
When I returned to San Juan Island last Labor Day weekend, sailing into Friday Harbor on a Washington state ferry, I was of two minds about the whales. Forget them, I said to myself. There is plenty to experience here. The old resort at Roche Harbor. Herons and eagles to spot. Beautiful beaches, shops to explore, fine restaurants to sample. Who needs orcas? And the other part said, I do.
For the first day or so, reason prevailed. Having left our car at the Anacortes ferry dock (recommended in the high season), we rented bicycles in town for the 6-mile ride to American Camp at the southern tip of the island, so named for its place in the Pig War. We aimed our bikes down the lane named for Capt. George E. Pickett, who protected America's stake in the island before going on to greater fame in the Civil War.
We sped down the decline toward South Beach and its sapphire surf, the Olympic Mountains inked clearly into the horizon beyond. Rabbits abound here in the meadows on either side of the lane, popping their heads here and there out of the dozens of ruts they've dug for themselves - so many that the National Park Service, which runs American Camp and English Camp, warns visitors against breaking an ankle.
We checked the rocks near Grandma's Cove, where on my last trip, I unexpectedly came across six sunbathing seals. Of course, when we sought them out on this day, they were nowhere to be seen.
We pressed on. We downed salmon with wonderfully garlicky tomatoes at Roberto's, where the sophisticated food doesn't insulate a birthday boy from the wait staff's off-key serenade over tiramisu. We quaffed local brews at the Front Street Alehouse. We sighed over baked Westcott Bay oysters at aptly named The Place Next to the San Juan Ferry, watching the big boats come and go.
We visited the Whale Museum, where orcas chatter on recordings and tease from videotapes - shutting us out with their animated, untranslated language, always going north before we got there. We read the board that tracks orca sightings, unpredictable as the stock market; in June, five straight days of no whales were followed by 12 in which they showed themselves to humans.
Then we woke "Captain Jim" Maya at 7 a.m., begging him to take us on his boat because we wanted to see those whales.
Maya didn't mind. He begins each day with his mind on orcas, except he doesn't call them that. He calls them "our friends," both because he means it and because this is radio code, to keep interloping recreational boaters from crowding and scaring the whales.
First thing every summer morning, Maya starts his whale watch with a listen - for that merry rush of water through a blowhole that is an orca breathing. Then he starts talking: to the captains of boats big and small, American and Canadian, hoping to turn the help he gave yesterday into a favor today.
"Your passport is information," he said. "These whales can be very sneaky."
His orca-watching service turns out to be one of the more flexible operations on San Juan Island - and one of the smallest, consisting of the Annie May, a perky yellow boat painted with dorsal fins. Our trip with him turned out to be a charter for two, including a free shuttle in the captain's truck from Friday Harbor to Snug Harbor Marina on the northwest side of the island.
On this day, the only word was that orcas had been spotted around Race Rocks near Victoria, B.C. - the outer edges of where Maya prefers to go on a tour of just three hours. "We'll do our best," he said, gunning the Annie May west. But too soon, choppy waters turned our small crew back to San Juan Island's calmer coves.
Is Maya frustrated when the whales don't come? Angry?
"Of course I want my customers to see them," he said. "But I'm almost happy when they don't appear. I'm almost happy when we don't know where they are. This is not a theme park. This is real."
Hours passed. Maya's cell phone rang. His radio crackled. "Seen any sign of Willy today?" asked the Pride of Victoria. "Nobody knows anything," complained Captain Jim.
We saw the seals tucked into the rocks of Battleship Island, spotted the eagle's nest in a treetop over Mitchell Bay. We passed the cliffs of Henry Island, where cormorants press themselves like black question marks into ridges of rock. A heron watched us from shore. But the water was an unyielding expanse, broken only by a kayaker's raised paddle.
Captain Jim deposited us in Friday Harbor just in time to catch our ferry, clearly feeling he had failed us. Not to worry, we said. Everything had been perfect. Only the orcas remain unrealized, and for that, they loom ironically large in the memories of our trip.
In their absence, they have given a gift: reason to return.
WHEN YOU GO ...
Getting there: If you're combining your trip to the San Juans with other Northwest sightseeing, the most economical way to get there may be to fly to Seattle-Tacoma International Airport, rent a car and drive 90 minutes north to the state ferry terminal in Anacortes. From there, it's another 75-minute scenic ferry ride to Friday Harbor; eight car ferries leave daily in season. US Airways offers direct service to Seattle from Baltimore, with one stop, from $359; Frontier Airlines and America West have connecting flights starting at $378 and $417, respectively.
* Harbor Air, an Alaska Airlines commuter service, offers half-hour flights to Friday Harbor from the Seattle airport for about $133. Kenmore Air has seaplane service from downtown Seattle's Lake Union to the island for $85 to $150. Several private passenger-only ferries also serve Friday Harbor from downtown Seattle.
When to go: You'll see more sun in August, but if you're dying to spot orcas, head for the San Juans in May or June, when whales are most often seen there (and the islands are less crowded with visitors). In general, killer whales frequent the San Juans - particularly the western side of San Juan Island - from April
through October.
What to bring: You'll need layers of clothing, which are necessary for changing weather conditions, particularly on boats. Lightweight but sturdy rain gear is essential; drizzle is a frequent visitor to these parts. Bring binoculars and cameras. Dress on the island tends toward casual, even in fine restaurants.
Where to eat: San Juan Island boasts a number of good restaurants, from pizza joints to inventive Pacific Northwest cuisine. Two great dinner choices in Friday Harbor: Roberto's (360-378-6333) and The Place Next to the San Juan Ferry (360-378-8707). Make reservations, especially on summer weekends. Marilyn's Garden Path Cafe (360-378-6255) has good picnic fare.
Where to stay: Friday Harbor has a host of bed and breakfast inns, many of them topping $100 for a room for two. For a beautiful sunrise view of the harbor just a block from the ferry dock, book the Osprey Room ($110) at Friday's Historical Inn, 360-378-5848. (The only drawback: noise from the bar across the street some nights.)
* A slightly more affordable alternative is Olympic Lights (360-378-3186), a more secluded farmhouse with great breakfasts, ivory carpets and a slew of cats. Doubles cost from $75-$110. You'll need a car or bike to get there. There are several campsites on the island, though they tend to fill up quickly in summer.
Whale watching:
* Maya's Whale Watch Charters offer flexible departure times for groups of up to six passengers, and free shuttle service to its departure point on the northwest side of San Juan Island. On occasion, "Captain Jim" Maya is so sure he knows where the orcas are that he can guarantee you see whales, or you won't pay. Ask him when you call. Maya can be reached at 360-378-7996. A typical three- to four-hour tour costs $45 a person.
* Western Prince Cruises (800-757-6722 or 360-378-5315), a larger whale watching service, offers narrated tours from a 46-foot cabin cruiser, as well as charters for six passengers. Cruises typically depart in the early afternoon and cost $45 for adults and $32 for children. Lime Kiln Point State Park on the west side of the island is the best place to watch for whales from land, though you'll need binoculars, time and a lot of patience.
Kid stuff: To learn about orcas before you see them (or don't), visit the Whale Museum at 62 First St. N., Friday Harbor, 360-378-4710. The kid-friendly museum records sightings from Lime Kiln Point State Park and the Whale Hotline, and has orca skeletons, displays on the three pods that frequent the islands and videos of researchers at work. The only danger: Your child will fall irretrievably in love with whales and may refuse to come home. (Then again, you may too.) The museum's online address is www.whale-museum.org.
Getting around: Especially on summer weekends, consider booking a room near the Friday Harbor ferry dock and leaving your car in Anacortes; spaces for cars on state ferries can be scarce. Island Bicycles (360-378-4706) rents one-speed children's bicycles for $10 a day, and adult bicycles for $15 to $25. They'll also give you advice on good rides. San Juan Transit offers a daily unlimited bus pass for $10 and makes stops at parks and marinas around the island. Car rental also is an option.
History: San Juan Historical Museum, 405 Price St. in Friday Harbor, has living history exhibits to show you what life was like on the island circa 1894 - before ferry service and tourists came to this agricultural community. The museum (360-378-3949) is open Thursday through Sunday afternoons in season; Tuesday and Thursday afternoons the rest of the year.
Famous connections: You'll recognize the ferry dock, downtown and beaches from "Free Willy II," which was filmed on San Juan Island, though the townspeople tend to downplay the connection. Parts of the new movie "Practical Magic" were filmed here as well.
Information: San Juan Islands Information Services, 360-468-3663. Friday's Inn maintains a good Web site with general island information, including links to whale-watch tour sites, at www.friday-harbor.com. A virtual tour of the islands - including "live" harbor views and ferry lines - can be had at www.islandcam.com.
AN IDEAL DAY
7 a.m.: Wake up in the Osprey Room at Friday's Historical Inn and watch the sun rise over the ferry dock without even getting up. Grab some scones, coffee, juice and fruit from downstairs and bring it all back to your room.
9:30 a.m.: Rent bikes and hit the road for the 6-mile ride to American Camp and South Beach. Before you go, stop at Marilyn's Garden Path Cafe for chicken curry sandwiches for your backpack. Don't forget the binoculars and camera; the views of Mount Baker along Argyle Road and Cattle Point Road can be spectacular on a clear day.
10:30 a.m.: Stop at the American Camp visitors center for a map that will guide you through the park's trail system. Continue on to South Beach, lock up your bikes and stroll along the water. Find a good spot for an early lunch near the rocks at Grandma's Cove, and tread lightly; you might find a gang of seals sunning themselves. Watch the fishing boats trolling the water, and keep an eye out for whales.
Noon: Begin the ride back to town.
1 p.m.: Arrive back at Friday Harbor, turn in the bikes, and take a car or the island bus for the 20-minute drive to Roche Harbor Resort, on the grounds of a former lime factory at the northwest edge of the island. Take a quick stroll around the historic Hotel de Haro and its formal gardens.
1:45 p.m.: Board the three-hour whale-watching cruise you've arranged from this side of the island - there's one leaving from the Marine Activity Center here around now (800-451-8910 for reservations). Have your binoculars and cameras ready. Look for clusters of boats; that's often a sign that orcas are near.
5:30 p.m.: Back in Friday Harbor, console yourself with a local microbrew at the Front Street Alehouse if you haven't seen the whales. If you did spot them, celebrate with same.
6:15 p.m.: Pop up to your room at Friday's for a quick nap, a change of clothes and a fistful of the chocolate chip cookies the innkeepers put out for guests.
8 p.m.: You'll have called ahead to reserve a table for dinner at The Place Next to the San Juan Ferry. And now you feast. Don't rush - you'll want to watch the superferries slide to and from the dock, lighted from within.
10 p.m.: Stroll up First Street, but don't call it a night before darkening the door at Herb's Tavern, which claims to be the island's oldest watering hole. This is where the real islanders go to knock back a few to the tune of some no-nonsense blues.
Pub Date: 11/08/98