Anacortes huddles under a knob of granite on Fidalgo Island in the Salish Sea. In the summer, it is pleasant, sunny, and mostly dry. In the winter it is cold, grey, breezy, and drizzly, tho it almost never snows. Dawn and I have lived here - this time - since June. It’s familiar, we’ve lived here five times in the last eight years.
I’ve traveled continuously since the turn of the century. In Jan 2001, I rang in a boisterous New Year aboard my trimaran in a marina in San Carlos Mexico. At the time, I lived in Phoenix, worked for an airline, and had just sold my house in Waco Texas. Both kids were on their own - in school or partnered up - and I took off to see the world. For the next twenty-two years, I caromed around the country, running from one locale and wishful scheme to another. Whenever I got bored or frustrated, I wandered. Sometimes, I even manufactured situations just to run away from them.
I motored transcontinental breakneck more times than I can recall. I explored a vast territory and scores of towns. I know my way around Las Cruces, Tuscon, Seattle, Portland, Moab, Ouray, Jacksonville, Savannah, Crestone, New Orleans, Pensacola, Darien, Port Townsend, Phoenix, Nashville, Coos Bay, Riverside, Salt Lake City, Jackson Hole, Bozeman, Spokane, Missoula, Wall Walla, Yakima, Salem, Silver City, Bellingham, and Olympia. I know where Wall Drug is. I crossed the Pecos, Missouri, Mississippi, Columbia, Tennessee, Snake, and Altamaha. I drove Big Sur, Going to the Sun, Northern Cascades, across Mexico, and west Texas. I know what kolaches are and love the jalapeno ones. I camped in Yellowstone, Grand Teton, Zion, Bryce Canyon, Canyonlands, Arches, Gila Wilderness, Badlands, Mount Rainier, Mount Baker, the Olympics, the Palouse, the Atlantic Coast, and the Pacific Coast. I know where the best barbecue is. I know where bourbon is distilled. I sailed across the Gulf of Mexico (twice), to the Bahamas (twice), up and down the ICW on the east coast, in the Keys, off Belize and Croatia, to the Channel Islands off California, the San Juan Islands in Washington, the Texas coast, and the Strait of Juan de Fuca.
It has been quite a ride.
But I never considered the impact constant travel would have on family. The churn wore away at Dawn’s need for belonging and security. She has to work to keep her account solvent and her identity strong, and - after 10 years running with me - craves a home and hearth. It is time to stop.
So, to Anacortes. It’s a small place - 17000 population - mostly old rich people and their parents, gateway to the San Juans, Canadian Gulf Islands, Vancouver Island, and mystical points beyond. There is a great deli in town, two nice bookstores, groceries, banks, and plenty of boat work. It is not just a retirement village - there is a working shipyard, a vibrant fishing fleet, boat builders, brokers, and charter companies. There is a significant US Navy presence - airedales flying from Naval Station Whidbey.
Dawn has a great gig with a local charity thrift store run by a progressive Episcopal church. She is the manager and chief bottlewasher and is good at it. She loves thrifting and the idea that you can take donated items, sell them and donate the proceeds back to the community to assist families in need makes her shine. The job does not require a lot of time, pays well, and provides benefits to boot! Her family - Mom, son, and daughter - are close and she visits them often. She is dug in and grounded. I can’t ask her to pack it all up and move willy-nilly again.
As for me, the Salish Sea is home enough. Restless as a coyote, I always leave, but I always come back too. It is big and beautiful, 270 miles north to south, spans two countries, contains 400 islands. It is home to whales, porpoises, salmon, seals, octopuses, eagles, osprey, bears, and ravens. Big currents and tides, rocky beaches, snowy blue mountains, isolated coastlines, and spectacular scenery make this a wild paradise. It is bounded by magnificence - the Cascades to the east, the Olympics to the west, crowned by lofty white volcanoes. I speak the Sea’s language and it speaks through me.
It’s not all love and roses. F18's growl overhead most days. There is a refinery across the bay. It is expensive as hell. Real estate has almost doubled in the last four years and the median price of a single-family home is now north of 700K. There are homeless people camped by the boatyards. The salmon runs are declining, the orcas are threatened, and traffic and development are insane. I am not immune to the grit and despair.
This time next week, we will close on a new trailer. This one is a “Destination” model designed for longer stays. It is 40 feet long, with a walk-around king bed in the back, a residential electric fridge, and propane heat. It is set up more or less permanently in an RV park just outside town. It is movable, but we don’t intend to take it anywhere. It is the only way we can afford to live here.
The boat is going south to a marina outside Seattle. I may take tourists and Amazon geeks out on day sails across Elliott Bay to Blake Island or Alki or over to Bainbridge. It is a glorious place to sail with Mount Ranier rising behind the Emerald City, and blue, blue water. I’ll teach sailing and cruising at local sailing schools and ponder an exploration around Van Isle or up to Haida Gwaii. We will work to stay - Dawn managing the thrift store, while I cobble together sailing gigs. We’ll see.
So does settling down mean we are no longer vagabonds? Not so much. Vagabonding is a state of mind as much as a condition. We don’t desire a mansion, don’t covet status, and don’t want prestige. We have all we need, which ain’t much. We don’t seek riches or hope to be “productive”, we aren’t in the rat race. We wander among the familiar local places…and see them afresh with travelers’ eyes. We wear fleece, flannel, and rubber boots. We go out in the rain.
I will miss the red rock of Utah, the towering peaks of Colorado, the clarity of Gila, the grace of Georgia, the expanse of Texas. I am grateful these places are part of me, but they aren't home.
The Salish may not be home either. But for now, it is where I belong. And that is enough
.