Wilderness awaits: A rugged, relaxing long-weekend getaway - Military Off Duty, Air Force Travel, hottest destinations - Air Force Times

Wilderness awaits: A rugged, relaxing long-weekend getaway

I wasn’t sure if the boat would make it. The eight of us, along with way too much food and gear, had piled into the rusty little skiff not much bigger than our minivan. My wife looked a little nervous but was putting on a brave face. After a long day of ferry-hopping to get to this dock, our two kids and their aunt and uncle were eager to get to the island.

The skipper, Dave, had built the house we were renting with his own hands, and getting us there was part of the package.

He fired up the engine, and we headed out to sea from Roche Harbor on San Juan Island, Wash.

We were looking for the best of both worlds — off-the-grid wilderness, but at least some of the comforts of home. We knew we had found it when we saw Dave’s ad on a vacation rental website.

He had built the dome house on Stuart Island over about five years while he drew a big paycheck deep-sea fishing off Alaska. Powered by solar cells and a wind generator, the house sits on a cliff overlooking the orca migration route. His family lived there for years but finally outgrew it.

On a map, the San Juan Islands look like four dots where the Washington State Ferry makes a pit stop — San Juan, Shaw, Orcas and Lopez Islands. In truth, there are more than 400 spots of ground that make up this last spray of land in the northwest part of the lower 48. Stuart Island is the northwestern-most chunk of land — its lighthouse is home to a humble white marker stone that delineates the forth turning point in the U.S.-Canadian border’s long, jagged journey to the Atlantic.

As we passed the lighthouse and prepared to make our landing, almost by reflex I looked at my phone for messages. No bars. Perfect. I turned it off. We had already arrived.

By the time Dave came to get us four days later, we had hiked the island’s twisting trails, taught the kids rappelling along the cliffs, read the grave markers at the small cemetery, picnicked on the high grassy hilltop overlooking the lighthouse and looked out from the dome’s desk in simple awe as a long procession of orcas passed before us, their blowhole-puffing grunts heard clearly across the water.

The elements provided just enough power to light our Yahtzee games and cook our meals, but the phones stayed off and the only surfing was by sea birds and a lone seal who rode the waves of the passing ships.

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