Jan Juan Sojourn: Charter heaven - Destination

Boat/US Magazine, March, 2002 by Tony Gibbs

Most of the world's premier boat-chartering areas cater to sailing craft, but there's one great cruising ground -- Washington State's San Juan Islands -- where powerboats have a distinct edge. North of Seattle and southeast of Canada's Vancouver Island, the clustered San Juans offer a broad palette of natural beauty, short yet modestly challenging port-to-port passages and a variety of onshore attractions.

If those assets make the San Juans sound a little like the Virgin Islands, it's a fair parallel -- and there's one other similarity: the convenient presence of a sizeable fleet of bareboat charter craft, based in the port of Anacortes just across Rosario Strait.

There are, to be sure, some considerable differences between the two archipelagoes. Climate is the most obvious: The San Juans lie at 48[degrees]30'N, which means that those tall trees are evergeen rather than palm. And even though island harbors can be delightfully warm in the summer months, you'll want serious clothes once you're on the open water.

In the San Juans' high summer, when it's light from 4:30 in the morning to 8:30 at night, the harbors can be as crowded as the Virgins' are in midwinter, but you won't see many swimmers, and tan lines end at wrist and collar. In addition, the wind is often light and, when it blows, amazingly fluky -- I can remember sailing almost completely around one of the San Juans without touching our sloop's sheets.

So what is it like to cruise these beautiful islands? Let's assume you're on a typical weeklong charter out of Anacortes. You'll leave about mid-afternoon, which allows the charter gurus to give you a complete, mildly hair-raising briefing about the 10-foot tides and 4-knot currents, not to mention the ever-present danger of ramming a floating log that's longer than your boat.

You can, of course, plunge straight across Rosario Strait into the heart of the heart-shaped island group. But I'd suggest you consider spending your first night at tiny James Island, a 113-acre state marine park just off the entrance to Thatcher Pass. Pick up a mooring and deposit the modest fee in the honor box ashore. Then sit back, unwind, and don't be surprised when your first bald eagle swoops out of the towering forest a few yards from your anchorage.

Over dinner you and your crew can decide which of the main islands to hit first. Each has its own distinct personality.

As you head through the pass, Lopez lies to port. It's still devoted largely to agriculture, a low, gently rolling, green-carpeted place. The two excellent harbors are both on its farther, western side. Landlocked Fisherman Bay offers the town of Lopez, which sits amiably around its village green, the site of a weekly market. The Bay's entrance channel has a minimum depth around three feet, so you'll want to consult the tide table before making your entrance. It's no accident that the locals have set up a gallery of lawn chairs along one side of the channel's trickiest stretch, so they can watch the fun in comfort.

But the town is worth the effort. If it's market day, expect to see the usual produce (all excellent), as well as New Age jewelry, aromatherapy compounds, crystals, and home-smoked salmon, sold by the slice. If you have time, visit the charming one-room museum for a glimpse of Lopez past.

The island's other anchorage, MacKaye Harbor, is at the southeast corner. It holds a wonderful fleet of decayed boats, most of which look like experiments abandoned halfway.

But the nearby Irie Forrest Cafe is anything but a failed experiment; located at one side of a general store that sells absolutely everything, it offers first-rate food to a clientele that seems equally composed of aging hippies, New Agers, city slickers from Seattle, and boaters like you.

Next day, move on to San Juan Island. It's a short hop to Friday Harbor, the archipelago's main port and tourist attraction. The marina is superior in every way, and the waterfront shops, restaurants, and bars are well worth a half-day excursion.

Then it's up the San Juan Channel, with mountainous Orcas Island to starboard, and hang a left into Roche Harbor, at San Juan's north end. Once a company mineral-mining town, it has transformed itself into a resort, with an excellent restaurant. Two attractions not to miss are the sunset ceremony, guaranteed to turn the most hardened cynic into a patriot, and the weirdly wonderful mausoleum, a pseudo-Greek temple in which the harbor's former owner and his family have been entombed in six marble-and-concrete chairs.

My favorite San Juan is Orcas, which offers great leg-stretching walks, including a hike to the top of Mt. Constitution, from which (on a clear day) the whole expanse of the islands lies literally at your feet. Great restaurants, too, in the main village of Eastsound, which lies at the head of -- yes -- East Sound. As you work your way up, look for the tiny town pier to starboard. Room for only one or two visiting boats, but it's often overlooked.

Orcas, San Juan, and Lopez are the big three, but there are half a dozen smaller islands that are worth a visit, if you have the time. Sucia, on Orcas's north side is actually several semi-connected islets shaped like an extended hand; the spaces between the fingers are sheltered, peaceful anchorages. Shaw, which lies between the three big islands, is a peaceful residential place you may have trouble leaving and don't miss the island store, run by Franciscan nuns. However, don't bother stopping at Waldron, also north of Orcas -- the island's residents have gone to some effort to escape the encroaching world, and they don't welcome visitors.