Orcas Island, Wash. — IT'S a wonder that anyone who lives here even owns a wristwatch. The first thing you notice about Orcasites -- the 4,500 residents of the largest of Washington's San Juan Islands -- is their patience.
"Don't ever worry about missing the boat to get here," they say. "There will always be another one."
So after the hour-or-so ferry ride from Anacortes, I found myself living like the populace: slower in pace (the speed limit peaks at 40 mph); respectful of the serenity of others (who live on placid-sounding streets like Yellow Brick Road and Jack and Jill Place); and without mind to the time.
The Washington State Ferry deposits cars right onto Orcas Road, the western segment of the Horseshoe Highway, which curves around to the eastern half of the island. To get my bearings, I drove the 15-mile two-lane road, starting on the island's mostly rural west side, passing pastures, orchards and pottery studios.
After slowing through the Cape-Coddish village of Eastsound, I wound down the island's eastern slope (where the highway is now called Olga Road). Here, the environs feel more mountainous than coastal, rising up to Mt. Constitution, the San Juans' tallest point.
As it began to drizzle, I remembered a chamber of commerce line about how the San Juans get 240 days of sunshine a year -- half the rainfall of Seattle, my hometown. The odds had to be with me for the rest of the weekend.
The San Juans, reachable only by boat or plane, are four islands among an archipelago of 172 that dot the northwest corner of the U.S. along the Canadian border. Orcas Island, named for the orca whale that swims in these cool waters, is actually north of Victoria in British Columbia. In fact, I could see White Rock, B.C., from the Beach House on Orcas, the waterfront inn and home of Paula Redpath. A native of North Vancouver, Redpath and her husband have become true Orcasites.
"We built the house nine years ago to sell it," she says, "and we're still here."
Thankfully, they kept on building too, adding a pair of overnight quarters for out-of-town guests. The larger Matia Island View Suite, where I stayed, is separate from the main house. A microwave, toaster oven and refrigerator came in handy, and the gas fireplace was especially welcome on the cool early-spring mornings when I was here. A deck offered panoramic views of the ever-changing tide. In the backyard, bald eagles congregate in a large pine tree.
