We were here, in this tight space, in Port Townsend, Washington the State, because of penguins.
Our spacious site at Point Hudson Marina and RV Park. Somewhere in here is a peek of Admiralty Inlet, Whidbey Island, someone’s late-model coupe, and a motor home from British Columbia that houses (among others) two highly attractive Cairn Terriers. (!!!)
Just about everyone I know has gone through a penguin phase. There’s just something about them (penguins, I mean) that draws people in. Consider: when is the last time you were thinking about penguins? Probably in the last few seconds. I rest my case.
For me, it was, more precisely, about photographing penguins, because photography is my temporary passion. I say temporary because I have had other passions in my life, but some of them passed, and others were wrenched from me (cue violins), and so I think of them as temporary, except no, not you Sooz, of course not you.
Anyway, I looked into it. Photographing penguins in the wild means traveling to the higher latitudes of the southern hemisphere. Bucket-list items aren’t supposed to be all that easily attainable, but this is kind of an extreme case. Easier than achieving low orbit, perhaps, but still a long flight and a chunk of change. I haven’t crossed it off my list yet, but I did start casting about for some kind of intermediate step.
Possibly the only penguin I have ever photographed.
And so I learned about puffins, known by some (not by me) as the penguins of the north. Almost as odd-looking, similar color scheme, suitably avian, and, it turns out, also difficult to photograph, because they are not your regular yardbird. You have to go find them at specific places.
One of which is Protection Island, which guards the mouth of Discovery Bay, which is around the back side of Port Townsend, or perhaps the front side, depending on your perspective.
Months ago, I read of a viewing opportunity: a naturalist-led cruise on a whale-watching boat to see, maybe, some puffins. The cruise departs out of the Point Hudson Marina in Port Townsend, so I tried to find a cruise date on which the Marina’s partner RV park could accommodate us. I succeeded, nabbing the last available site in the park.
Once we arrived for our three-day stay, the reason for the site’s lingering availability became clear. The site was (and is) a little tight. Fabulous location, just a little cozy.
On the plus side, our site, labeled a back-in, abutted a curb-less street, so it functioned as a pull-through. That really helped.
You know what, we know people. People who live in Port Townsend, and people who live near Port Townsend, and people who know the people who live in and near Port Townsend. We know them all from either living near them or camping near them or both. We took advantage of this trip to invite ’em over to our spacious digs for a delectable meal of delivery pizza. It was great to see them all, but they are not pictured here… Witness Protection Program, etc.
The next day was puffin cruise day, but the weather service posted a small craft advisory for five-foot wind waves for the very area of Protection Island. I decided to ditch the cruise, stay at the marina and enjoy the company of the team. I don’t know how the weather turned out on the cruise, but I had fun anyway. On the other hand, I still don’t have any puffin photographs.
Have you ever been to this place? It has some things to offer.
The marina is appealing. They have a big Wooden Boat Festival here every September (they throw all the RVs out and park vendors and exhibitors and the like instead).
This is an old commander’s cottage that’s been turned into a B&B. Adjoining the RV park’s “cozy loop” (ours), it’s called “The Commander’s Cottage.”
One afternoon I took a stroll on the beach and got strafed, seemingly, by a raptor of some kind. I watched it land in a tree at the end of the loop, and, camera in hand, sidled innocently in the tree’s direction, hoping to get a shot of the creature.
It was, I later learned, a Cooper’s Hawk. It hung around for a long time, then swept away to harass other campers.
Our next planned destination, at La Push on the Pacific Coast, didn’t work out, because Wally took ill. When one of the boys takes ill, it is the custom to crawl up between our pillows and pant all night long, usually after barfing in a few places. Wally kept up the tradition, so we reversed course and headed home the next day for a pair of overpriced veterinarian visits.
Wally improved after draining our checking account, and we headed back out for a short dry-camping trip, where we learned that (a) solar power doesn’t work so well in a heavily wooded campground, and (b) RV water heater manufacturers are prone to using the cheapest, least reliable components they can find. Details to follow.
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