Breaking Away

Finding solitude on a peaceful island in the Pacific Northwest. 

- Sara B. Franklin

RIVULETS STREAMED DOWN the inside of my head-to-toe rain gear. I stood on a promontory, gleeful as a child, watching harbor seals dart about in the cold water below. Farther offshore, a lone elephant seal fished for its lunch, and, in a rocky inlet, an otter bobbed along on its back, a crab clutched between its front paws. It was the start of the rainy season, and I was seeking solitude on Whidbey Island.

Located about 35 miles north of Seattle, the island is often overshadowed by the San Juan Islands, the archipelago farther north in Puget Sound that is better known, and less developed. But it shouldn't be. Whidbey is easier to get to-just take the 20-minute ferry ride from the mainland town of Mukilteo-and has fewer crowds.

I wanted to experience the entire length of the island without doubling back, so instead of the ferry, which goes to the southern tip, I drove two hours from Seattle and crossed the Deception Pass Bridge, a historic span that connects Whidbey from the north. It was a dramatic entrance, with the fog thick and the rain coming down in sheets. Rather than going directly to my hotel, I made a detour to Deception Pass State Park and stopped at a parking lot that overlooked a shallow bay, relieved to see no other cars.

This was my first plane trip since the pandemic. I was also newly separated from my partner and had left our young twins at home in New York's Hudson Valley. Now that I'd flown across the country, I wanted to commune with the woods and the water, alone.