When I was 18, I had the privilege of spending several days on the beautiful island of Iona and I’m amazed at Newell’s ability to capture that sentiment as he did. In my experience, he was right on the mark. It’s rare, I think, that we get to experience a place so serene, so grounding, so exquisitely beautiful that we return from our travels wholly refreshed and able to sustain the demands of everyday life.
Lummi Island in Washington, like Iona, was one such place.
(Maybe it’s an island thing?)
We’d waffled on taking a summer trip at all with an infant — being exhausted new parents, desperate for real rest, would traveling anywhere really be that restful? But, I’d seen on Pinterest one day a post that said something to the effect of “you get one summer with your baby, two with your toddler, four with your kid, etc. etc…take the trip” and the Pinterest lifestyle propaganda worked. Next thing Drew knew, we were buying plane tickets and checking ferry schedules.
In order to have the best shot at rest, we opted for a cozy coastal stay with foggy beach picnics and walks through old-growth forests in mind. We landed on Whidbey Island for the first half of our trip after stumbling upon photos of the enchanting Captain Whidbey Inn. The second half of our trip would be spent at a small and historic fisherman’s cottage on Lummi Island that Drew found. There weren’t a ton of photos, but it had a front porch with rocking chairs and a stone fireplace with an old wooden sailboat on the mantel…to me, it looked like something right out of a Rosamund Pilcher novel. (In other words, it looked like heaven.)
A flight to Seattle, a stop for the most delicious sandwiches we’ve literally ever had the pleasure of eating, and a delightfully windy (two words that don’t typically work together) ferry ride later, we found ourselves at Captain Whidbey.
It’s evident that somebody, somewhere, made it their mission to restore the old lodge to its former glory, with some marked improvements and a few very tasteful embellishments from the modern era (I see you, Restoration Hardware). The staff was friendly, the bed was extremely comfortable and the view of the lagoon from the front porch of our suite was exquisite. We played card games at night with porch drinkers and Maeve chocolate from the local market in Coupeville, we spent mornings in the garden next to the coffee shop, watching bumble bees gather pollen from the thistles and dahlias, and we picked berries from the patch by the bridge, between the juniper trees, until our fingers were stained dark red.
On the second day, we walked the 5-mile Main Line Trail through the Fort Ebey State Park and pinched ourselves at each overlook on the bluffs. We had sunshine, and the color of the water against the amber-colored cliffs, stretching out for miles, was something out of a painting. After our hike, we had pizza at Goldie’s in Coupeville (a delicious must!) and headed back to the lodge to watch the little crabs scuttle around in the rocks at Penn Cove.
When it was time to make our way to Lummi Island, we drove north to Bellingham across the Deception Pass Bridge (which pictures would surely not do justice to) and made a couple of pitstops at our hosts’ recommendation. First, at Camber Coffee for some afternoon bevs, a Cherry Garcia donut, and a bag of beans ground for a Chemex, and then at The Bellingham Community Co-op for our groceries for the rest of the week on Lummi. At the co-op, we picked up lots of local produce, some Ellenos yogurt of the Marionberry variety, fresh sourdough, a filet of smoked Lummi Island salmon, picnic makings, a couple of bottles of wine, and some fresh pasta.
On the short drive to the ferry we smelled something dangerously reminiscent of a soiled diaper, so we pulled over on the side of the road for a quick change before realizing that we were miles-deep into a roadside blackberry thicket…and the blackberries were ripe and juicy. If we’d had rubber boots and gloves, I think we may have pitched a tent right then and there for the rest of the week. Drew was beside himself with glee.
The ferry ride was an efficient operation — we were across the Salish sea in about 5 minutes. From the port, we wound our way to the right, up the coast, past hand-painted signs advertising a handful of local businesses and weathered seaside cottages tucked behind blackberry thickets and cedar groves, fruit trees on both sides of the road heavily laden with ripening fruit. The further up the coast we drove, the more our merry chatter gave way to quiet thought…did this seem too good to be…?…And then we turned into a hillside neighborhood across from a path to the beach, and into an unassuming driveway with a mossy wooden fence. It was about 4 o’clock, and the sun was casting golden light across the most delightful red shingled bungalow you ever did see.
A pause for reflection
The more control that I give up in my own life, the more I find that home is not one specific place that you make home. It’s a combination of things, a mindset, a series of places, a person, a feeling. A choice. Home changes. Home looks different in different seasons. Stepping into the cottage on Taft, which we have since affectionately named “Mole End” (have you ever read Wind in the Willows?), we felt, entirely, that we were home.
We wandered slowly through a cheerful kitchen, delighted by the obvious attention to detail, the ceramic sink and the Aga, the Smeg fridge and selection of cookbooks, past a breakfast nook in the bay window, through to a living and dining room with the aforementioned stone fireplace and creaky hardwood floors and ceiling. Then through a back bedroom with beautiful wooden built-ins and a cozy bathroom with a cast iron sink, a clawfoot tub, and a Mary Oliver poem pinned next to the mirror. Then — through a bedroom with a Jenny Lind bed and deliciously heavy linen bedding to the glorious front porch with its rocking chairs and its view of the cedars and the Salish sea sparkling through in shimmery, golden glimpses. From that front porch, you could hear gulls calling and the waves lapping on the rocky shore below.
By the time we reached the front steps, to my surprise, happy tears were threatening to spill over onto my cheeks. How often is it in life that you arrive to find things better than you had hoped they’d be?
And then, upon further inspection, we realized that the bushes at the far edge of the yard were blackberry bushes. Drew and Ferne picked and ate so many that their digestion was a bit wobbly for the duration of the trip. (A worthy sacrifice, I think they would claim.)
The handful of times that we went down to the beach, and really any beach on the island for that matter, including the church beach and Sunset Beach across the street from Mole End, we found ourselves very much alone and delighted to be so. A couple of times, a pair of slinky seals popped their heads above the water to have a peek at us, but otherwise we were left to explore, and to sit, to beach comb and to wade in peace.
We spent the four glorious days that we were there eating toast with butter and jam on the front porch, reading aloud to each other from the Space Trilogy in the rocking chairs, listening to Flyte radio or a Fleetwood Mac record on the record player in the writing nook while we cooked fresh pasta and drank wine. Every day, we showered outside to the scent of wet cedar. Every night, we put Ferne to bed in a borrowed portacrib to the red-orange light of the sun setting on the ocean streaming through her bedroom window.
We took long naps and Drew went for runs through community orchards and natural preserves while I read a book about shepherds in the Lake District. We made daily stops at The Islander store and had curried chicken salad sandwiches with pickles in cute paper bags from The Galley.
We had Lummi Island salmon fish and chips from the Beach Store Cafe and it was so delicious that we went back on our last night to have it again, this time on the front porch across from where the ferry docks. The entire population of Lummi Island had come out that night to listen to the live music on the back lawn of the restaurant. We stopped at the library’s used book sale and picked up several books, including a 1947 edition of Heidi for Ferne and A Year in Provence, my favorite. We discovered that the church has a beautiful labyrinth behind it, on the way to the beach, and at the farm stand at Full Bloom we met the ducks and we got a dog stuffie for Ferne that we named Alasdair, who was lovingly hand knitted by someone named Rita, and is made of 100% wool. We also had to pick up some beeswax birthday candles for her upcoming first birthday, and during that stop we saw a Barred Owl sitting in the cedar tree by the parking spots.
By the end of our trip we were scheming in earnest about spending one month there every summer. Wouldn't it be glorious?
Favorite meal from the trip:
Lummi Island salmon fish and chips, Beach Store Cafe
What I read on the trip:
Drew and I: The Space Trilogy, C.S. Lewis
Just me: The Shepherd’s Life, James Rebanks
What we listened to during the trip:
