This article first appeared in the October 2018 issue of Freshwater News.  There are a lot of reasons to love sailing.  But one of the most sublime is enjoying a quiet, breezeless morning in a special anchorage…

Recently, my ever-patient wife and I took an extended weekend trip into the San Juan Islands, more specifically Friday Harbor.  I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that Friday Harbor, and these islands in general, could be my favorite spot on Earth.  Better than Key West.  Better than Cane Garden Bay.  Better even than the Soggy Dollar Bar (although in all fairness, that last one is reasonably close).  No, for me, nothing tops the wooded beauty of the San Juans, with a stunning mix of lush evergreens dotted with beautiful madrona trees, golden fields of grass, rocky cliffs and beaches, all scattered throughout the deep, protected waters of the Salish Sea.

Anyway, we did the usual things you do in Friday Harbor.  Beers and lunch at Friday’s Crabhouse.  A swing out to Lime Kiln to whale watch (or try to anyway).  A trip to Roche Harbor to see what mega yachts the super-rich are sitting aboard while their hired crews navigate them from resort to resort.  And of course, saying hello to Popeye, the one-eyed longtime resident harbor seal who resides in the Port of Friday Harbor Marina.

(A side note: Turns out that Popeye, who’s been a part of the Friday Harbor Marina for so long that he’s most certainly the Keith Richards equivalent of harbor seals, is actually a “she.”  The unequivocal proof being that Popeye just gave birth to a brand new seal pup.  What can I say?  Who knew?  Well, actually probably all of you, but I sure didn’t.  I figured with a name like “Popeye”…but back to the story that I’m being paid to write, because eventually I have an actual point to make here, as hard as that might be to believe).

Anyway, one morning I woke up early, looked out the window at an absolutely beautiful day, and decided that it would be much better to watch the sun rise over Friday Harbor than turn on the television.  So I headed down to the marina.  And as it turns out, it wasn’t just a walk down to the water.  It was a trip back in time, and my early days sailing the Islands.

Down at the harbor, it was one of those still, serene, perfect mornings.  Low lying fog clung to the surface of the water.  Boats of all sizes swung silently at anchor.  One sailboat steamed out, headed for San Juan Channel, getting an early start on the day.  The first ferry of the day slowly rounded the point on Brown Island and slid across the bay to the Friday Harbor ferry landing.

The whole scene took me right back to our first sailing adventure in those very waters.  It was 1974, and we’d already put in several days getting from our home port of Des Moines Marina, up to Port Ludlow and Port Townsend, and then finally across the Strait, through Thatcher Pass and on to West Sound on Orcas Island, and our first ever anchorage in the Islands, Massacre Bay.

After dropping the hook, my sister and I experienced any number of firsts, not the least of which was watching harbor seals (for all I know, a much younger Popeye) as they swam around us and checked us out.  All in all, not a bad way to get welcomed to the most beautiful spot on Earth.

It was the next morning though, that was special.  Dad and I were up early, him with a cup of coffee and me a mug of hot chocolate.  And yes, it was the first time I’d experienced one of those still, serene, perfect mornings anchored in a quiet cove.  Low lying fog clung to the surface of the water.  Boats (not many of them) swung silently at anchor nearby us.  Mom was below, fixing all of us bowls of hot oatmeal, still the ideal breakfast on a sailboat, as far as I’m concerned.

I sat in the cockpit and took in the perfect silence of that morning, the cool, calm air, the sun rising over Shaw Island.  Birds were overhead, and the harbor seals had returned.  It was serene.  It was perfect.

And it got better.  After finishing breakfast, we were headed for…yep…Friday Harbor, mostly to pick up provisions.  It was still early, still calm, still silent as we steamed out of West Sound, turned into Wasp Passage, and headed for San Juan Island.  It seems amazing, but I still vividly remember quietly steaming through the Islands, chilled by the early morning but warmed by the sun, alone on our trip to Friday Harbor.

Since that first morning waking up to that perfect stillness, I’ve experienced the same or similar mornings countless times, but that first time is still special, still unforgettable.  For me, if you’re not out actually sailing, it’s mornings like those that are my favorite part of cruising.  Evenings, as wonderful as they can be, aren’t the same.

Quiet mornings in a beautiful anchorage, on a sailboat you love are their own slice of heaven.