Canada’s Gulf Islands and the San Juan Islands
Bright orange streaks of early morning color greeted the first arrivals on the bow as the Sea Lion sped south through the Straits of Georgia. The beautiful dawn spreading across the islands and the calm water brought the first inkling that a glorious sunny day was unfolding before us. Off to starboard a narrow slot opened in the trees. Could that tiny waterway be Dodd Narrows, we mused, as Captain Graves squared the ship to the entrance and we were suddenly enclosed by the picturesque landscape of the Gulf Islands.
A small towboat pulling a long raft of logs putted by on the port bank, and looking around we observed that we had entered a new and drier ecosystem. The Gulf Islands and the San Juan Islands lie in the rainshadow of the Olympic mountain range, and receive a remarkably low (for this area) thirty inches of rainfall per year. This allows a more diverse plant community than the northern temperate rainforest we have been traveling in. The yellow of big-leafed maple and the rusty-colored layers of bark adorning the arbutus trees brought some dramatic fall highlights to this most pleasant scene.
Our morning walk and kayak at Wallace Island Provincial Marine Park was delightful. Most of us ambled happily on the wandering trails, stopping at small gravelly beaches covered in weathered driftwood and strolled among Douglas fir and western red cedar in the shady parts of the forest. Others chose a Zodiac cruise or a kayak around the many interesting rocky islets and small coves. Upon our return to the ship, the hotel staff served lunch on deck! Following the many days of rain and mists, this return to the sun is most welcome indeed.
A calm and sunny afternoon of winding through these beautiful islands passed very quickly, and late in the day we docked in Friday Harbor, cleared customs, and had a walk around and this pretty seaport town.
Our southbound migration begun so long ago in Sitka has nearly ended. Just about fifteen hundred miles later we have watched summers’ end together – finding joy in the annual cycles of the forests, of the humpback whales and schools of herring, the glorious bears and of course, those amazing salmon.
Bright orange streaks of early morning color greeted the first arrivals on the bow as the Sea Lion sped south through the Straits of Georgia. The beautiful dawn spreading across the islands and the calm water brought the first inkling that a glorious sunny day was unfolding before us. Off to starboard a narrow slot opened in the trees. Could that tiny waterway be Dodd Narrows, we mused, as Captain Graves squared the ship to the entrance and we were suddenly enclosed by the picturesque landscape of the Gulf Islands.
A small towboat pulling a long raft of logs putted by on the port bank, and looking around we observed that we had entered a new and drier ecosystem. The Gulf Islands and the San Juan Islands lie in the rainshadow of the Olympic mountain range, and receive a remarkably low (for this area) thirty inches of rainfall per year. This allows a more diverse plant community than the northern temperate rainforest we have been traveling in. The yellow of big-leafed maple and the rusty-colored layers of bark adorning the arbutus trees brought some dramatic fall highlights to this most pleasant scene.
Our morning walk and kayak at Wallace Island Provincial Marine Park was delightful. Most of us ambled happily on the wandering trails, stopping at small gravelly beaches covered in weathered driftwood and strolled among Douglas fir and western red cedar in the shady parts of the forest. Others chose a Zodiac cruise or a kayak around the many interesting rocky islets and small coves. Upon our return to the ship, the hotel staff served lunch on deck! Following the many days of rain and mists, this return to the sun is most welcome indeed.
A calm and sunny afternoon of winding through these beautiful islands passed very quickly, and late in the day we docked in Friday Harbor, cleared customs, and had a walk around and this pretty seaport town.
Our southbound migration begun so long ago in Sitka has nearly ended. Just about fifteen hundred miles later we have watched summers’ end together – finding joy in the annual cycles of the forests, of the humpback whales and schools of herring, the glorious bears and of course, those amazing salmon.
