Exploring Waldron Island

Joe Meche is president of the North Cascades Audubon Society and also serves the chapter as newsletter editor and birding programs coordinator. He has been watching birds for more than 50 years and photographing birds and landscapes for more than 30 years.

The San Juan Archipelago is composed of between 172 and 450 islands, depending on which resource you cite. As long as I’ve been in the Northwest, I’ve always heard that 176 islands make up what we all refer to as the San Juan Islands. The entire archipelago, however, might well contain upwards of 400 qualifying rocks that rise above the surface, depending on the tide. The larger and more popular destination islands are reached by ferry, but these are far outnumbered by the smaller islands that require you to have your own method of access, be it a sailboat or a kayak, or even a personal flotation device.

The islands of the San Juans are so familiar to us that we often leave off the ‘island’ part of the name and just refer to them on a first-name basis; e.g., Orcas, Lopez, Cypress, etc. All of the islands have unique features that attract us for a variety of reasons. Sailors benefit from the numerous sheltered coves for overnight moorage or extended stays. Kayakers enjoy wilderness camping on a few of the uninhabited smaller islands. We all appreciate the potential they provide for quick getaways close to home. Islands have an intrinsic charm and we’re all susceptible.

It’s always interesting to visit a place you’ve never been but have heard about, even though it’s just an hour away from home – by boat or small plane. I had occasion to visit Waldron Island – or Waldron – on two separate visits in early July. As with any trip that I take to a new place, I attempted to do a little research first. Some of the items I gleaned from a number of sources seemed to fit in with the stories I heard from a long-time Waldronite (my own word) and friend, Bob Moles.

Bob enlisted my aid to replace the chimney at the cabin that’s been in his family since 1966. He has a unique boat that’s reminiscent of the landing craft from World War II, complete with a ramp that drops onto the beach to let the troops storm ashore. The trips on Wednesday afternoon and again on Sunday morning were testimony to the fact that Bellingham Bay is a temperamental body of water. On both trips, the harsh chop of the bay was replaced by considerably calmer water after we reached the relatively protected waters off Lummi and Orcas Islands.

Bird life was at a premium with only gulls, cormorants, guillemots, and rhinoceros auklets observed on the way to the island and back. The distinctive dorsal fin of a lone male orca caught our attention as it crossed our bow on Sunday morning. We did see a few porpoises and seals along the way, and a few otters around the island itself.

On Thursday morning, before we started work, we took a two-hour hike toward the interior of the island and down to the beach on the north side to complete the loop back to the cabin. With an area of only 4.6 square miles, Waldron could probably be covered quite easily on foot, but private property postings and common courtesy will keep most of us from exploring the island fully. Nonetheless, I was able to get a pretty good idea of the lay of the land from a long-time aficionado.

One of the stops on our loop was the Waldron Island School, which fairly swept me away in its absolutely perfect setting, near the center of the island. Rockwellian images of rural schoolhouses raced through my brain as we peeked through the windows into the two classrooms and a small library. Needless to say, the school has a small enrollment of students from kindergarten through eighth grade and is one of only nine schools in Washington to be designated as “remote and necessary.” Perfect.

Another highlight was the airport, which is actually more of an airstrip, carved into the trees and, according to Bob, quite the thrill on most takeoffs and landings. The subtlety of Waldron humor came through as we approached a small structure just inside the tree line. It resembled the homemade shelters we see for kids to wait for the school bus on rainy mornings. Above the door on this edifice was a simple sign that read, “Gate 3.” This airport/strip is hardly Sea-Tac, or even Bellingham International, but its gates are well-marked! The sign made for a great morning chuckle on our walkabout.

We followed a series of dirt roads – the common road surface on the island – and eventually came to the shoreline where we found the tide in our favor to continue the tour. Walking along any Northwest beach at low tide requires a combination of planning and patience as the path is usually strewn with a variety of obstacles, including boulders and trees. Some of the trees are beached by high tides while others might have fallen from the steep bluffs during stormy weather. Another thing that tends to impede progress is the need to identify birds along the way.

Nesting in burrows where you might normally expect to see pigeon guillemots or kingfishers were violet-green swallows. I spend a lot of time building nesting boxes that are specifically designed for violet-greens. I take the time to make the entry holes just the right size to discourage starlings and house sparrows. But these entry holes were large enough to accommodate kingfishers! I surmised that it had to do with the fact that there are no starlings or house sparrows on the island.

Large slabs of Waldron sandstone and a protected beach make up Point Hammond, on the northernmost point of the island. From the point, you’re able to gain perspective as to the geographical relationship of Waldron to the rest of the world. To the east across President Channel is the northwestern corner of Orcas Island and to the east-northeast is the spectacular northwest Washington icon, Mount Baker. The view to the northwest takes in tiny Skipjack and the larger Saturna Island, one of the Canadian Gulf Islands.

A small, mixed flock of early shorebirds foraged along the shoreline as we neared the end of our hike. Sanderlings, western and least sandpipers and a lone dunlin lifted as one as we approached, only to set down again farther up the beach, where they would repeat the process. Along this part of the loop we also saw otters in the water and one making its way across the beach and into the brambles.

Our work proved to be challenging, but we eventually accomplished our mission and celebrated with a perfect salmon dinner accompanied by perfect wine on a perfect Northwest evening. To add to this perfect list was a bald eagle perched above the deck throughout most of the meal. Of course, a bald eagle minding its own business always attracts a gathering of gulls and crows, so we had a symphony of sorts, as well.

Waldron Island is unique among the San Juans in many ways, but its remoteness and virtual disconnect from the rest of the world might be its better qualities. There’s no ferry service, no public utilities, and no public facilities to attract tourists. Waldron nights are dark. The best thing I’ve heard or read about the island is that the limited opportunities for earning money are to a great extent offset by the limited opportunities for spending it. Sounds like my kind of place.

As I often do when I visit a new place, I rate it according to how it measures up to my own loose and rather informal criteria. After my first two trips to Waldron, I know that I’d like to return for a better look, but at this point I’d have to give it one of my highest ratings; i.e., I could live there! §