If you’ve only San Juan, you’ve not san ’em all

On June 15, 1859, a British pig—whose name is lost to history but we’re calling him “Percy”—foolishly chose to eat an American potato in the San Juan Island garden of one Lyman Cutlar.  Cutlar—understandably upset at his loss of produce—shot and killed Percy, thereby starting “The Pig War.”  The seeds to the problem were planted in the 1849 Oregon Treaty, which set the boundary between England’s frigid lands and the United States’ fertile lands as “the middle of the channel”—but failed to identify the “channel” at issue.  Since the San Juan Islands sit between the Haro Strait and the Rosario Strait, both countries claimed them.  Percy’s murder triggered everyone to roll in gunships and troops and artillery and prepare for battle.  The American side camped at what’s now cleverly known as “American Camp.”  The information center pictured above is all that remains, although it probably wasn’t as fancy back then.   Essentially nobody did much else until the matter was resolved in favor of the good guys in 1872.  Which is why when we reached Friday Harbor we paid for lunch with real dollars.

The obvious point of all that, of course, that that Ol’ Lyman shot Percy just about five miles south of where we spent a few days.*

On Christmas Eve, 1969, astronaut Bill Anders took an iconic color photo of earth as he and his two crew mates on Apollo 8 became the first humans to orbit the moon.

The obvious point of all that, of course, is that just about the time we were passing the south end of Orcas Island on our way to Friday Harbor from Anacortes, the single engine plane Anders was flying by himself crashed into the water just six miles north of us.  Lots of Coast Guard chatter on the radio.  Days later on our way to Deer Harbor we passed by the folks pulling up wreckage.  Very sad.

San Juan was our first of the San Juan Islands to visit, but on the way we passed a bunch of others.

This little guy is Willow Island.  Willow Island looks pretty much like the rest of them.

Now back to Friday Harbor, where we spent several days either sitting on the boat or exploring, depending on the weather.  Here’s Serendipity, a used bookstore where the ghost of an unidentified woman haunts an old home that dates to 1892, although it’s also possible that the ghost story is just a marketing ploy.**

The San Juan Inn, built in 1880, once sat adjacent to this vacant lot.  Even after Windermere Realty turned the building into an office, the disembodied spirit of Walter—“a short, pudgy fellow with a smile and a mustache, dressed in a grey flannel suit and hat” continued to roam the halls.  No word on where Walter went after April 6, 2022, when Whidbey Island dirtball Dwight Henline set the fire that burned it down.

Here’s a fun coincidence that has nothing to do with ghosts.  Our McDowell Mountain Ranch pickleball buddy Dan’s boat Little Nellie—named in honor of his two oldest granddaughters Nell and Ellie, a portmanteau, if you will—tied up behind us in Friday Harbor.  Fun dinner with his awesome family.

Ellie wasn’t with them, but Nell peered out the window as they headed out.

Lots of interesting stuff around San Juan Island, but virtually none of it is within electric scooter range.  Fortunately Susie rents slightly faster conveyances.  By the time we did the entire circumference and some side roads, we were ready to join a motorcycle club.  If only the Hell’s Angels accepted women.

Along the way we passed right by the site of Lyman Cutlar‘s potato patch.  Doug had marked it on the map so he could take a photo.  Nope.  We blew right past it on the side trip down to the Cattle Point Lighthouse.

The famous lavender farm has closed down, and we also failed to take photos of the alpacas.  To add more insult, we went right by English Camp, where, you guessed it, the English camped while awaiting the opportunity to shoot Americans because of the pig.  And also, you guessed it, we forgot to take any photos.  However, we did stop for snacks at The Blowhole, “blowhole” being one of those words that sounds dirty but isn’t.

Hey look!  Sammy’s first dinghy ride!  He seemed neither impressed nor worried, which we suppose is a good thing.

Seaplanes flitting about made flying the drone seem unreasonably sketchy, so it stayed on the boat.

We mostly were okay with our spot on D Dock.  Nice and quiet.

Except the walk to shore literally was over a third of a mile.  That’s just too far to carry a dog who’s afraid of uneven surfaces.

Next stop, Deer Harbor on Orcas Island.  More scenic San Juan Islands along the way.

There are at least three pods of resident orcas in the area, so one might logically assume Orcas Island’s name somehow is related.  One who assumed that would be wrong.  Orcas—as in island—is short for “Horcasitas,” who was the Spanish viceroy with a silly name who commissioned an exploration of the area in 1791.   But either way we made it to Deer Harbor.

Not much happening at Deer Harbor, so we took one of the island’s two rental cars for a bop around.  The largest town is Eastsound.  Charming little place.

Eastsound is home of the historic Emmanuel Episcopal Church, which was to be built as a saloon in 1885 but then as now religious zealots waged political warfare to stifle anyone with the temerity to disagree with their self-centered view of morality.  So it became a church instead.

The Episcopalians we know have no qualms about drinking alcohol, however, so maybe they just wanted the awesome view out the back for themselves.

Just down the road sits the old Crow Valley School, which began educating the island children in 1888.

The high point of Orcas Island, however, is the high point of Orcas Island.  Actually, Mount Constitution is the highest point in all the San Juans.  Obviously we had to get up there.  The view is well worth the effort, although again, Sammy didn’t seem overly impressed.

After a nice trip around the island and up the mountain, a lovely dinner at Kingfish Inn was just the way to finish off Dana’s 22nd birthday.

Sammy may be unemotional about a lot of things, but not the last shore leave of the day.  That gets him every time.  Somehow he thinks running to the front of the boat will allow him to go straight to bed.  But no.  It sucks to be portable.

Up in these parts, seeing an AGLCA burgee is about as likely as finding a Sasquatch.  Or an Alabama fan with a full set of teeth.  When you bumble across one, you’ve got to investigate.  Which is a good thing, because two sets of Loopers—who earned gold burgees a couple of years ago—stopped by when they saw ours.  Very nice folks.  In Deer Harbor to go shrimping.  Later they dropped off a bag of deliciousness they caught that very morning, allowing us to whip up an Old Bay shrimp boil that was even better than Kingfish Inn.  Loopers are the best.

A couple of final Deer Harbor notes.  The singer from just outside Dana’s hometown of Austin was pretty cool, although we could’ve done without all the pandering to the little kid who demanded attention.

Way too late for us to make full use of it, we discovered a cool path, with cool views, that passed by houses we’d never be able to afford.

Most importantly, Sammy and Doug have cheered the mighty Diamond Vols into pole position at the College World Series.

Today we shoved off for Rosario.  Past Massacre Bay, where Stickeen warriors slaughtered Lummi men and took Lummi women and children for slaves.  It happened in 1858, however, which probably is why there aren’t any actual crime scene photos on the internet.  A quick shot up the bay was the best we could do.

Blind Bay is a well-regarded anchorage, and since our path took us about fifty yards from the entrance we popped in.  The anchor held long enough for us to eat lunch and toss the drone up and probably would’ve held even longer but we left.

Next post will have some Rosario notes.  This post is too long as it is.

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* Despite losing the islands, a residue from the British occupation remains.  Friday Harbor, for example, takes its name from Hudson Bay Company shepherd Joe Friday, long before he became an LAPD Sergeant and partnered with Officer Bill Gannon, who himself later became Colonel Sherman T. Potter.  “All we want are the facts, ma’am.”  (That’s all very true, except for the part about Dragnet and M*A*S*H.)

** On a very tenuously-connected note, in the under-appreciated John Cusak classic movie Serendipity, Lars’ shehnai music sucked and the kid in the devil costume deserved to be punched in the head.