Monthly Archives: September 2025

Completing the San Juan Islands Trifecta

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Only three of the San Juan Islands have enough roads to make it work biking. After covering Orcas Island and Lopez Island in the last two years, Erik and I set out to conquer the third, San Juan Island. This year we brought along an entourage – Rich, Katie and baby Saige came and we made a weekend of it staying in a VRBO cottage surrounded by prolific gardens with flowers, vegetables and fruit trees. Our hostess is also an artist. Her colorful paintings covered the walls of our cottage, and we were able to peer into her studio adjacent to the pond in the back yard. Such delightful surroundings!

The day started out with better than expected weather – not too cold, little wind and a bit of sunshine. We headed north first to Roche Harbor which is home to an elegant resort, posh little shops, and yachts galore in the harbor. We coasted down the steep road to get closer to the shore and ogle the immaculate landscaping and fancy yachts and sailboats.

A quiet narrow loop road beckoned on the other side of town so we followed it around a point. Fancy condos and houses perched on the shore, interspersed with stretches of tall woods. Those little lanes would be my favorite rides throughout the day.

Moving down the west side of the island we had plenty of water views, and one very steep hill. It snuck up on us, its pitch increasing as we progressed. As I pumped up that monster I knew I’d hit my limit when I resorted to sashaying back and forth across the lane to make it to the top! Fortunately, it proved to be the worst we encountered all day. Midway down that coast we stopped to admire the view and could see a long thick bank of fog stretching out diagonally across the water. We watched a sailboat heading toward it, then thought better of the idea and turned around. It obliterated everything behind it, and we knew for sure we would soon enter it ourselves.

Turning the corner and heading east, we found another smaller road that led to False Bay Tidelands. A sign informed us that the big round bay was home to a variety of tidal species and was a protected area. We weren’t sure if the water was always that low, or if it was low tide. But the fog was definitely rolling in.

Sure enough, at the next scenic spot we were able to admire the sign that labeled all the islands we could see from there, but in reality our view was just a wall of fog!

We continued on to the very tip of the island called Cattle Point. Beyond the interpretive area another small lane led us to Fish Creek, a narrow natural harbor with a small marina on the other side of the point. It was clear of fog, and we deemed it a good lunch spot. Settling down on a rocky ledge we had a nice view of the dock, boats and houses on the opposite side. It was quiet and unassuming with a bit of activity – folks going to or from their boats, one couple taking out their sailboat, and some movement across the way where the island homes had their own private docks. Under those circumstances, our sandwiches and fruit tasted exceptionally good.

Our trip out to the point had felt like miles and miles of downhill, and knowing we had to retrace that stretch we both secretly dreaded the prospect of all that uphill work. However, it proved to be so gradual that we pedaled up it almost without realizing it!

We were heading up the east side of the island back towards Friday Harbor, which is the island’s only town and the location of the ferry landing, when Erik realized my back tire was decidedly low. Pumping it back up proved to be a futile solution, so we sought a parking lot on the outskirts of town where Erik changed the tire. (I’m always very thankful to bike with someone more skilled at bike maintenance than I am!) We thought it was a most fortuitous spot when we turned in at the sign for the San Juan Bakery, only to be disappointed to learn it was closed on weekends. Sigh.

Back on the road, we chose another quiet lane called Pear Point Road which wound around a peninsula just outside Friday Harbor. It provided a bit of fun and whimsy when we stopped to admire a cycling sculpture!

Entering town, the idea of a treat lingered. Deciding that it was too cold for ice cream, and finding bakeries closed for the day, we headed to a coffee shop opposite the marina. Sipping our hot brews and savoring a raspberry pastry, we watched the tour boats departing for whale watching tours, float planes taking off and landing at regular intervals, and ferries coming and going.

Our final stretch took us up the remainder of the northern side of the island to Egg Lake Lane and our cottage. Just as we reached the driveway, raindrops began to fall which quickly became serious. We made it back just in time! In all, we cycled over 53 miles with 3,744 ft of elevation. Not bad for a day’s outing!

There was just enough time to relax and share our stories before we all headed out for a celebratory dinner at a restaurant on the harbor.

We rounded out the weekend with a visit to Lime Kiln Point Lighthouse where we took a path along the shore to the tower. It opened shortly after we got there, and we were able to go up the tower! Rich was below photographing black oystercatchers, and captured us out on the catwalk. As lighthouse keepers ourselves, we especially enjoyed seeing a very different lighthouse and talking to the volunteer there. That park is known to be a good viewpoint for viewing orca whales, but none made an appearance during our visit.

With the ferry ride back to Seattle, we successfully closed the chapter on our series of San Juan Island cycling tours. Our next job is to come up with a new cycling challenge. However, it’s going to be hard to beat this trifecta!

On Lighthouse Time

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Timing is everything. After last year’s unfortunate mishap, we were so eager to get back to Crisp Point Lighthouse for our annual stint as keepers that we hadn’t paid close attention to the recent weather at that remote spot. It was only as we were en route that we noticed Facebook posts featuring the deeply flooded dirt road to the lighthouse. Jon and Beth, our friends and co-keepers, preceded us down that road pulling their big camper. They made it, moving slowly but surely, and it took them more than twice the time it usually takes for those 19 miles. We approached the next morning, to find it had receded only a little overnight. Since we are tent campers (the “keepers’ residence” is a campsite) we were unhampered by a trailer, and splashed our way through the long puddles that grew in size the closer we got to the lighthouse. It was an epic journey, to say the least!

Certainly the road was all the talk for our visitors the next few days, and we sold a record number of stickers that said “I survived the road to Crisp Point Lighthouse.” But they all took it in stride, part of the experience when visiting this remote gem.

Keepers for this lighthouse are volunteers who rotate throughout the season, staying 2-5 days. We always hope for the max 5 days, which we scored this year. Come to find out, the keepers that preceded us had 4 1/2 days of rain, with significant downpours. As luck would have it, we had 5 straight days of beautiful weather, with only one rainstorm during the night. We were very happy for this welcome back present!

Despite the condition of the road, we had a steady stream of visitors, running 130-180 per day according to our count. It was probably higher. As usual, we had a mix of lighthouse aficionados, vacationers who included it in their itinerary, rock hounds searching for agates or Yooperlites, and a rare set of people who just happened to see the sign from the highway not knowing what they were getting into traveling that dirt road. They kept us busy manning the Visitor Center dishing out information or selling merchandise that helps fund the nonprofit that maintains the lighthouse.

Jon and Beth were tireless ambassadors, greeting visitors, taking their picture in front of the lighthouse or just visiting with them. Managing the inventory kept us busy during any downtime, straightening up the stock on the shelves or refilling from storage. And of course we had the delightful chore of cleaning and restocking the bathrooms, sweeping the constant supply of sand that infiltrated the tower, Visitor Center and boardwalk, taking inventory and accounting for the cash and sales at the end of the day. It’s all part of being keepers and we are glad to do it for the unique experience of spending 5 days at the base of the light.

During Covid, the Crisp Point Light Historical Society which manages the lighthouse, recommended having four keepers due to extra duties required at that time. Adding Jon and Beth to our crew turned out to be the best thing ever. Not only is it nice to share the duties and be able to spell one another for a little free time during the day, but it is more fun spending time together in the early mornings and evenings when we are off duty.

Mornings are my favorite, and I make an effort to be up in time to watch the sunrise unfold. It rarely fails to impress, and never looks the same twice. The site is quiet at that time of day, as are the miles of sand beach that stretch on either side of the lighthouse. Following sunrise I start my day with a brisk walk down the beach, which also changes from day to day. The lighthouse shrinks and recedes into the distance as I walk, then gradually grows again on my way back. We were surprised this year to discover that we could walk all the way around the lighthouse – never before since we started keeping in 2015 has there been beach between the tower and the water. I hadn’t realized Lake Superior’s water level was so low this year.

The rainfall brought us a gift in the form of a reflecting pool on the beach. It was perfectly positioned for doubling the view of the lighthouse in the early morning light. Rich took great advantage of it for his photography, and also practiced flying his drone for unique overhead shots of the property before visitors arrived.

Climbing the tower with our morning coffee, Beth and I relish the birds eye views and the movement of the waves. Above it all we drink in the solitude and peacefulness, removed from the activity below. We have to remind ourselves to descend and take up our posts for the day.

We all look forward to closing up shop for the day. Happy hour ensues in the shade of the camper, followed by taking turns making dinner, then dashing back to the shore for sunset. Visitors still roam the beach, but gradually we claim the site for our own. A good campfire is a mesmerizing way to finish out the day, accompanied by the rhythm of Lake Superior’s waves.

As if making up for our absence last year, Crisp Point delivered all my cherished moments in its shadow. We were so grateful to get back here again. And this year, our timing was impeccable.