A Golden-Crowned Kinglet pecks for mites among the mud and gravel of a Center Island road.
THE ONLY OTHER LIVING BEINGS I saw today were Galley Cat and four Golden-Crowned Kinglets. Oh, and two squirming earthworms driven by heavy rains to the surface of my dirt road, much to the delight of the resident feline who found them almost as fun to play with as garter snakes.
Those were the only signs of sentient life on my corner of Center Island this January day. After a busy and well-visited holiday season, I was kind of OK with that.
Kinglets, regular winter visitors here, are tiny birds barely bigger than my thumb. Their nearly inaudible call, like the tinkling of a wind chime made of icicles, is an entrancing winter soundtrack when all else on my island is still and quiet.
A Kinglet shows off its distinctive head decor.
I spied today’s first Kinglet as I tramped in my duck boots across our mushy, wet airfield to the mail shack late this afternoon. Kinglets are ground feeders, and this one was hopping among the wet grass finding something of culinary interest.
They are pretty little things with grayish-yellow bodies and a distinctive hairdo that is sort of a combination of black and white skunk stripes centered on a bright yellow Mohawk.
I came across a few more as I tramped homeward through the woods to my place. Kinglets are so small — about the weight of two pennies — and their call so elusive that I halted with a start when I suddenly realized several were pecking at the path just in front of me. They must be finding mites of some kind, my Mad Birder neighbor once suggested.
In a Robert Frosty moment I paused stock still in the dark and deep woods as I listened to the birds’ tinkling, what you might imagine from a parade of magical fairies. The Kinglets’ brilliantly striped heads were the only clear marker of their hops among the shadowy forest duff. I was enchanted.
It remains the gloom of winter on this remote little island nobody’s heard of. I live alone with my dopey orange cat, but even on the quietest days I don’t lack for good company.
P.S. Friends, the date on this post can’t go without comment. If you’ve not already ruminated on the fifth anniversary of the most shameful day in our nation’s history, let former Labor Secretary Robert Reich remind you in this salient essay. Thanks for reading.
The Prince of Whales whale-watching boat zips past my lunchtime viewpoint on Upright Head, Lopez Island.
IT’S BEEN TOUGH keeping up with the blog in these troubled times. We all have plenty of worries as the Trump Regime does its best to bully the world, trash our constitution and cripple the economy. Almost every one of us has seen our life’s savings swirling down the toilet.
But I resolved to help support my community in the face of the onslaught, so I’m here to tell about the good things in my island life.
Tiny calypso orchids are blooming with gusto on Center Island this spring. This flower is about 3 inches high.
Spring weather has finally arrived and we have a bumper crop of calypso orchids, aka fairy slippers. Buttercups are in bloom and ferns are uncurling new fronds like the gentle beckoning of an octopus tentacle. When I tap away at the keyboard in Wee Nooke, the cedar writing hut on the rocky knoll behind my cabin, I might still crank up the heater at first, but by afternoon I’ve opened a window to admit soft and salty breezes.
My big news is that I’ve landed a gig with Road Scholar, the not-for-profit tour operator that offers educational trips catering to travelers 50 and older worldwide. My Friday Harbor friend Barbara Marrett, retired from a career as communications director for the San Juan Islands Visitors Bureau, went to work with Road Scholar a year ago. She convinced me it would be a good fit for me, and kindly recommended me to the local leadership affiliated with Mount Vernon-based Skagit Valley College, which has a branch in Friday Harbor. I will be involved as a paid trainee with three of their week-long tours in my San Juan Islands starting in mid-May. Next year, I will likely be a group leader.
It’s a bright spot on my personal horizon. Living with just a fuzzy feline companion on my remote island, I need more human interaction. And some 20 years of exploring these islands with my family aboard our sailboat, writing about the San Juans as a travel journalist, and making a home on this little island nobody’s heard of seems to uniquely qualify me to help newcomers learn about the San Juans, too.
So far, the Road Scholar leadership has been tremendously accommodating and good to work with. When I told them I had been reserving the summer for overdue cabin projects that got a bit neglected last summer, they responded by assigning me to trips in May, September and October. Perfect! Itineraries will include boat trips to Sucia and other outer islands, a kayak tour and a three-island sampler.
I’ve already attended three training sessions in Friday Harbor, including a first-aid and CPR refresher course, a general leadership orientation, and training in how to safely drive their fleet of 11-passenger vans. That’s kept me busy in recent weeks traveling back and forth to Friday Harbor, a significant endeavor when I don’t yet have my restored 1957 cruiser, WeLike, commissioned for the season. (We’ve not had the weather for it until now.)
Ranger Rick looking spiffy and clean.
So I booked passage on the water taxi from Center Island to Hunter Bay Public Dock on Lopez Island ($76 round-trip), where I keep my good old pickup truck, Ranger Rick. I drove the pickup 25 minutes to the ferry terminal on the north end of Lopez and either parked it there and walked on the state ferry (for no charge to Friday Harbor) or drove aboard ($28 round-trip) when I wanted wheels at the other end. On one trip, I took advantage of the opportunity to drive Ranger Rick to the Friday Harbor car wash where I gave him a much-needed bath. There are no car washes on Lopez. He had gotten positively mossy.
These outings have made me thankful that I don’t often rely on Washington State Ferries, plagued by staffing shortages that commonly cause last-minute cancellations of scheduled runs. When one of my Friday Harbor boats was canceled and the next wasn’t for two hours, I “made lemonade” and took my sack lunch on a pleasant hike to a viewpoint in the San Juan County Land Bank’s Upright Head Preserve, adjacent to the ferry terminal. Couldn’t have been better if I planned it, I thought, as I watched whale-watching boats and big cabin cruisers plow through the water below the mossy bluff where I munched my tuna wrap.
Lumberjack Brian: A newly cleared building lot meant felled trees were available for firewood.
The arrival of spring weather already has me busy with outdoor projects around the cabin. When a nearby lot got cleared for construction of a new cabin the cut trees were available for firewood. Time to fire up my chainsaw and start replenishing my wood stack for next winter. (I had to watch a YouTube to figure out why the saw wouldn’t start after hanging in my shed for the winter, but soon had it roaring and spewing sawdust. When you live on a remote island, you learn to fix stuff yourself.)
My other adventure has been digging on hands and knees with a hand trowel to locate my septic drainfield so I can install capped, upright 4-inch PVC pipes that function as inspection ports, now required by the county if I ever wish to sell my place. One port is installed, one more to go. The joys of home ownership. Nothing that a clothespin to the nose can’t make more pleasant.
Amid all this, daughter Lillian visited to help me celebrate my 69th birthday and neighbors John “The Mad Birder” and Carol showed up with recently dug razor clams they were generously willing to fry up for friends. (Yum.) Lillian showed off her new skills as a patisserie baker by making me the world’s best sugar-free chocolate cupcakes with buttercream frosting. (Ditto yum.)
That’s the April report from Center Island, friends. Find joy where you can. Remember to support your friends, family and other good guys. We all need it now more than ever.
Cantwell's Reef 