Deception Pass

26.09.2023

There was something missing in my journey through the Pacific northwest. Oh, that’s right! The Pacific Ocean herself! North Cascades was gorgeous, featuring every element of beauty you can expect from the rugged, volcano-forged Cascades range peaks, glacial lakes, and cascading streams and rivers. But let’s be honest, the Pacific Northwest isn’t complete without her ocean.

This reminds me of Japan. A friend and I were visiting his family on the Izu peninsula many years ago. As he drove along the coast, I spotted an epic view with black sand beaches, Pacific Ocean waves crashing on the rocks, and great cedar trees hanging over the entire scene, their boughs oscillating in the coastal gusts, as if recoiling from the ocean spray shot out from the waves impacting the rocks. If you have a good imagination, close your eyes right now and picture it. Add sound. Don’t forget the deep, thunderous bass tones that remind you of the power of the sea. Finally, feel it in the seat of your pants.

My friend was beside himself that I’d noticed this sublime scene of natural beauty. “Dave-san,” he exclaimed, “that is very Japanese picture. Maybe most Japanese! How did you notice? You must be part Japanese!” Of course, I had no idea this was some kind of quintessential Japanese image of natural beauty. I replied to him, “Beautiful is beautiful. I don’t need to be Japanese to see beauty.” “Ahhh,” he replied, “but you noticed this beauty, so you are part Japanese.” Sure, OK. They liked to tell me that, my Japanese friends, and my attitude was always simply to accept the compliment.

As I drove through the town of Burlington in the coastal flats toward the north end of the Puget Sound, I knew I hadn’t yet encountered that final element needed to finish the painting, so to say. I crossed a tidal estuary and there, finally, mercifully, was the ocean. Well, the sea, at least. We call it the Puget Sound but those here before us call it the Salish Sea. I kind of like that. I think I’ll try to call it that as I describe my time here near the San Juan Islands.

Crossing the water onto Fidalgo Island, it was a steep, hard climb. I thought I’d left those climbs back in the mountains, but I wasn’t giving up now. Up into more tall pine forests and then I saw the sign: Deception Pass. The object of my intention The Deception Pass was named by Captain George Vancouver. Yes, that Vancouver. When his crew came back excited about a short cut they’d found, he celebrated by naming one of the islands after the crew leader, Master Joseph Whidbey. Some of you may recognize the name of the Whidbey Island Naval Air Station. Those fighter jocks reminded me of their presence every day I was there! A subsequent attempt by Vancouver to sail his ship through the pass nearly resulted in disaster. His crew forgot to mention, or didn’t notice, two dangerously large and strategically positioned granite outcroppings that he and his ship almost ran into. So angry was Vancouver, that he named the waterway the Deception Pass. I’m a little surprised he didn’t name it something like Whidbey’s Folly.

But, as I rounded one last bend in the tall pine forests of Fidalgo Island, I suddenly broke into sunlight and out onto the Deception Pass bridge. Woah! Let me tell you, you’re very high up and it’s a very narrow bridge, busy with cars and trucks going both ways, it’s the only way off of Whidbey Island except by ferry, and it has two narrow pedestrian walks, one on either side. Did I mention it’s windy? But what a view! Salish sea to the right, and aforementioned deadly granite outcropping, next stop Pacific Ocean, and dormant Mt. Baker to the left where the waterway takes a turn south past another deadly granite outcropping and continues toward Seattle.

By the way, when I say outcropping, I really mean an island, but don’t picture an island with nice sandy beaches. Picture an island with 50-foot-high granite walls to welcome any ship foolish enough to want a kiss. There was a 25mph speed limit and I took healthy advantage pegging my SUV at a reasonable 20 mph. I wanted to soak this in! Oh, there’s that sea smell. You know that smell? And the saltiness of the air. Yep, I’d arrived.

I made my way across the bridge onto Whidbey Island and turned into Deception Pass State Park’s main entrance to register and claim my campsite. I’d nabbed a spot at the exclusive Bowman Bay campground. Now, Bowman Bay is back on the Fidalgo Island side of the Deception Pass toward the Salish Sea side. If you kept that straight in your mind, you’ll have guessed correctly that I had to take another trip back across the Deception Pass bridge. Poor me. I felt a bit like brier rabbit.

I mentioned that Bowman Bay campground is exclusive. Get this, there are only 19 campsites in the entire campground! And I got one. In fact, I chose one up above the others in the pine forests looking down into Bowman Bay. I could have reserved a site on the bay itself, but noticed a public path between those sites and the water and some comments about hikers wandering up into campsites, accidentally, I’m sure. I opted to be up above it all and, let me tell you, it’s one of the most beautiful campsites I’ve had, and I’ve had quite my share on this trip.

What I had with this campsite was all the quintessential elements of Pacific Northwest natural scenic beauty I described to you above. High tide hit some time in the late evening every night so I went to sleep with waves crashing on the beach and, as you would expect, rain drops pitter-pattering on my rooftop more than once. The trees were so thick you could only spot the a lucky midday sunbeam or two that successfully fought its way through to shed its light on the forest floor. It’s a scene that makes you want to breath in deeply. I did.

This was my homebase as I explored the Salish Sea, Fidalgo Island and its main city of Anacortes, as well as the San Juan Islands and Friday Harbor. I was surprised to discover that Bowman Bay Campground and the entire Deception Pass state park was built by the Civilian Conservation Corp back during the Great Depression of the 1930s. They had a great interpretive center right at my campground that I was able to walk through and learn all about the origin and development of this unique and historic park. Let me tell you, these men worked hard, from sunup to sundown. But Roosevelt insisted that every man who went to work in the CCC would receive three square meals a day. Well, in the Great Depression many men struggle to get three meals a week. You can imagine they signed up in droves to build parks like this.

I’ll have more to share from this area in a couple of more posts, but hopefully this gave you a good sense of the place in which I’d arrived. And if you’re still not convinced, just take a look at the pics below.

Deception Pass looking east at sunset.