The British were coming, Friday and Roche Harbors,

Friday Harbor on a gorgeous day.

We sought some town-time in Friday Harbor. A pretty little ferry landing, we thoroughly enjoyed the local brew-pub and the chili pepper beer. They had bacon beer, but we stuck to our vegetarian principles.

We anchored in Garrison Harbor in front of the British Camp national historical park.

These cutouts in the blockade were to be pushed out from inside to shoot from if attacked. That they were never used is testament to diplomacy, tact, and human civility. The history of the bloodless Pig "War" is an interesting one, and a good read.

Here's the blockade. Interestingly, the American Camp on the other side of the island has one exactly like it, and is clearly designed by the same person.

Our biggest surprise of the trip was running into Paul Lawrence, a friend from Anchorage, in Friday Harbor. He took a job flying and turning a wrench for a flying service in town, and Mo stumbled on him headed to the showers one morning. It was a very fortunate accident, as you'll see.

Paul is a freelance photographer and does gorgeous work. None of these are his, by the way. He's a pro. Check out his gorgeous websites..

Here's our boat from the air at 120 knots.

Mo said Blain better be on his best behavior, because Paul is pretty cute - and has a plane. Thanks Paul. We loved the time spent with you, and, of course, the view.

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In Roche Harbor, we found the ring and gave it to Galadriel.

This mausoleum is truly one of a kind. A monument to the owner of the Roche Harbor lime kilns at the turn of the century, we felt like we'd found the elves home.

Roche Harbor is an affluent marina resort, and there is one bar, one cafe, one restaurant, one ice cream stand, and one ships chandlery. Still a company town, everyone wears the resort logo. It felt a bit Disneyeque.

We are now onwards to Stuart Island, then to Vancouver Island for a long bit. We plan to clear customs in Sidney, and then on to Victoria after a few boat upgrades.

Orcas!!!

Chance went whale watching. Here he is introducing himself to Bob the really nice Orca guy at the Lime Kiln Lighthouse. According to Chance, the conversation went something like, "Whales schmales, I want the milk bone, pal."

Blain's cousin Krista came over on the ferry and brought her sea kayaks. A definite whale junkie, she's been kayaking with whales for years and has generously shared an amazing adventure with friends and family for years.

Onto the water and little did we know we were to be treated to one of the most amazing animal encounters either of us had ever experienced.

Paddling with the tide, we rounded Lime Kiln Point and the famous lighthouse. Bob, Chance's new friend, pointed to the distance in a gesture to keep going. Soon we spotted the whale-watching boats in a rough line and figured something might be coming our way, so we stopped paddling and sat still. Within a half hour we were completely surrounded by a pod of 20 or more orcas as they worked their way up the coast.

Krista took this shot. A lot of hers were really close.

It's hard to take good photos right in the middle of a travelling pod of whales. Krista did a much better job, being the steel-eyed pro, so most of these shots were hers. I was always a little late on the shutter to get the goods and had to settle for a lot of wakes.

Krista had several some very close encounters with very large fins. One youngster cleared the water a couple of times just to splash for everybody lining the shores. How we managed to be exactly in the middle of everything at exactly the right time, particularly since the whales hadn't been spotted in weeks, I'll never know. Krista, however, would say that that's just how it was supposed to happen.

Wow. Really.

Wow. We will always be thankful for this experience from Krista.

And to the whales. May they always be.

My attempt at a movie.

James Island near disaster

Here are the amphibian photos from Moran State Park.

Sure looks like a Columbia spotted frog to me.
The newt!

Blain gets reeaalllllly excited about slimy critters.

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We pulled ourselves reluctantly from the resort and amphibs, and decided to see a couple of state parks. Spencer Spit was nothing special and really stunk from the lagoon, but James Island is really a jewel. The dock, however, was placed by a civil engineer from Hades.

The current eddies around in the bay and Mo tried unsuccessfully to dock a couple of times before Blain tried unsuccessfully to dock a couple of times. Each time we'd near the dock and slowed so as not to ram it, we'd swing perpendicular to the dock. Aside from jumping off the bow, there wasn't much we could do.

On a final attempt, Blain swung into the beach with the rocks looming above and lurking way too close below. Just as he was making the final surge for the dock, he hit the throttle and the transmission rattled uglily to a stop and the engine died. Mo diagnosed the problem instantly as the dingy towline wrapped around the propeller.

Motorless and now caught in the current pushing us towards angular boulders just 30 feet away, we made several decisions much more quickly than we would have thought possible. Blain lowered the anchor and it seemed to have caught. Mo grabbed lines and bumpers. Blain jumped into the dingy with a knife to cut the prop free.

After one freezing grab with a bare arm, he decided against the icy plunge into 46 degF water and rowed towards the dock, desparately tying knots in the three ropes we had on hand at the same time. Of course one of the speedily tied knots slipped and he had to lurch back on the oars to grab the line before it sank. Wisely, Mo armed herself with the boathook, ready to fend off the rocks. Blain finally neared the dock and was able to pull the stern close. Mo passed a line from the bow, and we were able to pull up anchor and ease the boat to the dock.

Here's the GPS tracklog of the adventure. Note the rocks on the right.

We unwrapped the prop shaft with the help of the other docked boat captain, and checked the engine and transmission.

This truly a herculean effort netted us a spot at a secluded dock in a gorgeous nook nestled in a quiet little passage. This is what we had hoped for when we dreamt up this trip. We decide to stay two days and might try three.