Photos of Camille, Daniel (and family and friends)

Roche Harbor is a mix of many things.  The extremely wealthy boaters are always here, their multimillion dollar yachts parked on the dock, drinks in hand, hair coiffed just so, and dressed to the nines.  The more average Joe (ourselves very much included) is also here taking their first shower in many days, buying groceries, getting fuel, ice, etc. because of the harbor’s location toward the outer edge of the San Juans.  Thankfully, our dollars were as welcome here as those of the very rich.  It was if we were the homeless buying a newspaper and coffee on Mercer Island.  We were among the poorest people within range.

It’s the closest port of entry when returning from the Canadian Gulf Islands.  Thus, we usually stop here to avoid having to plow on to Friday Harbor, which is a zoo.  Clearing customs and immigration anywhere is an ordeal, Roche Harbor included.  Sometimes there are too many boats to get onto the dock right away, so there is a queue choked with diesel fumes as boat idle around in the harbor, waiting to dock (watch out for the numerous float planes with rich passengers that appear to trump any marine traffic).

This year we were able to tie up to the customs dock right away.  There were two female officers on duty, switching quickly between stiff formality and congeniality.  I entered the little shack with passports and boat documents in hand (the crew is under strict orders not to disembark the vessel until we’ve cleared customs, except for line handling upon docking).  One woman disappeared to handle an issue and the other ordered me to leave and wait outside (a departure from previous years’ procedures).  The sun was warm and the seat comfortable enough, thankfully.

As I waited, I saw an agitated man, some 10-20 years older than me and a few inches shorter, pace the dock in a bad mood.  After some time passed, we engaged eye contact.  I inquired as to his position in the queue, as I didn’t want to cut the line.  We determined he was ahead of me.  He then recounted that he’d tied to enter Canada in Bedwell Harbor that day.  The Canadians denied him entry.  I confirmed that his polo shirt logo matched that of the 100+ foot long luxury power boat nearby.  He was both the owner and skipper, having passed his masters’ license test.  He was really pissed that the Canadians denied him access to their beautiful country on the basis of a recently discovered 32 year old felony conviction for growing pot.  In years past, our neighbors to the north offered him free access to sprinkle his large amount of cash as he saw fit in their country.  But not this year.  Having “touched” the dock in Canada (entry into Canadian waters is fine if you don’t “land”), he was now forced to re-enter the US.

We took wonderfully warm and luxurious showers late in the day, stocked up on food and wine, then took in a ceremony to lower flags (mostly by virtue of our extremely close proximity tied to the dock where you pump out your holding tank).  There were many ironies in the ceremony – the flag staff wearing sweatpants yet marching smartly as if in the military, the overt kowtow to the rich boat owners in announcing their arrivals, the seemingly gratuitous nod to the military, etc.  It was a bit over the top.

After anchoring out, Daniel set the crab pots, which yielded two keepers the next morning.  Being Roche Harbor, I joked that the crabs were gold-plated.

We set out early to meet with Molly’s friends, Bret and Michael, and their friends, Ali and Meg at Fisherman’s Bay.  We were treated to orcas on the way out of Roche Harbor.  Excuse the photos; our camera has a really poor zoom.  The orcas will appear far away as we didn’t want to harass them or be in violation of the law by sidling up to them.  We remained under sail to minimize any potential harassment.

Our sail with Bret and company was lovely.  I decided to use only the headsail and we sailed in serene waters to Friday Harbor and back.  It was a circumnavigation of Brown Island.  As Bret and company brought wonderful snacks, we dined well.  In return, we parted with two crab for their enjoyment.  I hope that they sated them and their company.