Discover the Magic of the San Juan Islands
What is it about the San Juan Islands that makes them so dreamy? Perhaps it’s the way they play hard to get. No bridges or highways connect these emerald gems to the mainland; you either float there by boat or ferry or, if you’re feeling posh, buzz over in a seaplane. From the moment you leave the shore, you’re unmoored—literally and otherwise. Stress dissolves into the sea spray, and the tidy tyranny of your daily routine gives way to the untamed rhythm of tide and wind.
Threading through the archipelago, the islands emerge like the heads of slumbering beasts, furred with evergreen trees and dotted with deer that seem to have swum there on a dare long ago. Bald eagles circle lazily overhead while the occasional heron stands onshore, looking like a disgruntled retiree. Every trip feels like an invitation to something ancient and vast, something entirely indifferent to whether you remembered to put your phone on airplane mode.
I’ve been twice so far—once with my favorite local outdoor tour company, Evergreen Escapes, and another time this past summer with San Juan Cruises out of Bellingham, Washington. Both visits started so early that even the water seemed fast asleep, tucked under a blanket of fog. The fog lifted as we sailed toward misty horizons, and clouds peeled back to reveal a sunlit island. It’s easy to see why the Coast Salish people have revered these waters and lands since time immemorial. Even a short visit feels like entering a sacred space where nature insists on being acknowledged and respected.
Orca Tales
Orcas are the undisputed celebrities of these islands, and spotting them feels like winning the wildlife lottery. During one of our visits, we took a tour with Maya’s Legacy Whale Watching company. We boarded a Zodiac boat with about six other nature seekers and a professional marine naturalist who guided our views along the way. Via radio, the captain stayed in touch with other boat operators, all of them sharing intel in a coordinated effort to keep tabs on the pods without disturbing them. We finally spotted them through binoculars—a distant collection of dorsal fins slicing the surface like the fins of mythical sea dragons.
The captain cut the engine so we could drift quietly and observe. At first, the whales seemed content to ignore us, splashing and spouting in the distance. One pod gathered in a small bay, their sleek bodies rising and falling, sometimes in unison, sometimes individually. Were they hunting? Socializing? Plotting a hostile takeover of the human world? It was hard to tell.
Then, something extraordinary happened. A large male turned and swam toward our boat, his black-and-white form cutting a deliberate path through the water. Two others followed close behind, their fins like scythes against the waves. Our naturalist suggested they’d probably veer around us, but she sounded a little uncertain as she kept her binoculars trained on the water.
I stood in the middle of the boat, not sure what to expect but curious enough to hold my ground. As the orcas closed the distance, I felt a rush of emotions—excitement, awe, and a twinge of fear. It wasn’t just that they were enormous, though they were. It was the sense of being seen, truly seen, by something ancient and wild.
The orcas didn’t veer. Just before reaching our hull, they slipped beneath us, their massive forms passing directly below where I stood. For a moment, the world tilted. I was no longer just a tourist with a camera but a tiny speck in a vast, untamed universe.
When they surfaced on the other side, everyone on board fell silent. It wasn’t the polite hush of strangers; it was reverence. We’d been part of something rare, something sacred. For the rest of the tour, we remained mostly quiet, too awed to fill the air with chatter. We knew we had experienced a gift. Normal conversations seemed to cheapen it.
A Sacred Place
Back on land, we all went our separate ways, knowing we had shared something extra special. Every trip to the San Juans feels like that, though. There’s always a story worth telling, whether watching orcas at play, hiking through lush forests, or just standing at the shore and breathing it all in. These islands have a way of reminding you that the world is bigger—and wilder—than you imagined. And sometimes, if you’re lucky, it lets you glimpse that wildness up close.
