Sucia Island

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Sucia Island

11/20/06 – 11/22/06
Field report by Ken Campbell

There's nothing quite like having an island to yourself. If that island is Sucia Island in the northern San Juans, it's even more exceptional. One of the northern tier group of the San Juans, the sculpted shoreline of Sucia is a beautiful location for kayaking. During the height of the summer season, it is not uncommon for the population of the island to exceed 1000 on a busy weekend. It's a popular spot and to have it entirely to myself was luxurious.

Of course, it's November, and there may be some real good reasons why no one else has made the trip at this point of the year: cold, wind, dark, rainy… to name just a few. But that makes it sound like it's a bad thing, which it most certainly is not.

I left Tacoma early on a Monday morning, always nice to be heading out on the water when everyone else seems to be heading into work! The drive to Anacortes and the ferry crossing went well, and by 10:30am, I was on North Beach on Orcas Island, looking across the water toward Sucia. My hope was to get out to Sucia and set up camp, then spend the next couple days exploring Sucia and Patos Islands and possibly crossing over to the Canadian side and checking out a couple of the Gulf Islands as well. The weather was overcast and cold when I left shore, but the high winds that had been forecast had not hit yet. Yet.

About 2/3 of the way across was when the wind really kicked in. I made it into Fox Cove on the south side of Sucia and took advantage of the calmer waters. The channel had built to 3-foot wind waves and gusts that almost tugged the paddle from my hands. I rounded the point and headed into Shallow Bay, where I knew I would find shelter from the gale.

I set up camp and scrounged some fire wood off the beach. The sunset was deep purples and wine red off to the west at about 4:30, then night came fast. I could hear the wind pushing through the trees high overhead, but it was calm and protected under the tarp. The rain began not long after sunset.

I knew before I even got out of the sleeping bag the next morning that I would not be going over to Patos that day. The wind noise was vicious in the trees and the tarp was covered with cones, needles and small branches that had been blown loose in the night. I brewed a cup of coffee and went for a walk to the island's south side, to look at the water that I'd crossed the day before.

The sight was truly awesome. I had difficulty standing still in the gusts long enough to snap a good photo of the mayhem on the water. Wind waves of 3-5 feet formed in long trains that stretched as far as I could see towards Orcas to the south and Saturna Island to the west. The radio said the wind might be easing later in the day so I figured I'd spend the morning on shore, waiting for the weather to change.

It did get better in the afternoon. Not a lot better, but enough to convince me that I should at least go for a paddle around the north side of Sucia. The wind was lighter here, although still gusting up to 20 knots from time to time. I had been here before and was hoping to see otter, but not this time. Eagles though, and seals, were seemingly everywhere.

The wind settled through the night and I woke before dawn on the last day to a welcome silence. The forecast was promising that the lull would not last long, however, so I packed in a hurry and was on the water just after 8:00. Although the crossing to Patos would have been fairly easy, getting back again would have been pretty dramatic, so I opted for as quick a return to Orcas as I could manage. With the building wind directly in my face, the 2-mile paddle took just over an hour of hard strokes and when the boat hit the beach at my start point, I was beat.

Still, it's pretty cool to have an island to yourself.