Margaritas, Rainbows, and the Perfect Summer Weekend

After a solid night’s sleep, we woke to a gentle rain tapping against the windows. For the first time in days, Mother Nature encouraged us to slow down, so we happily accepted the invitation.

The beach house was cozy enough, although it clearly wasn’t designed by anyone who had ever met a toddler. Every bedroom had enormous windows with breathtaking views…and exactly zero shades. During the middle of the summer solstice, bedtime looked suspiciously like high noon. To compensate we slept Joni in the windowless bathroom and Evie in a renovated garage (for sound). 

The following morning we stocked up on groceries before Emily’s parents arrived bearing one of the greatest gifts any traveling family can receive: A homemade spaghetti dinner. Forget five-star restaurants. Nothing beats a meal someone else lovingly cooked.

After lunch we spent the afternoon exploring Camano Island together. We wandered through beautiful state parks, discovered quiet beaches, and admired the endless views across Puget Sound. It felt like one of those classic Pacific Northwest days where every road seems to lead somewhere beautiful. On the drive home we stopped by the waterfront estate of one of Sam’s friends. 

Calling it “a nice house” would be like calling the Grand Canyon “a decent hole.” Perched high above the water with perfectly manicured grounds and panoramic views stretching for miles, it was the kind of place that quietly reminds you there are still levels to aspire to in life. We enjoyed a wonderful visit, sipping wine, swapping stories, and imagining what it would be like to wake up to that view every morning.

Back at the beach house, things escalated. We had picked up a one-liter jug of margaritas. Mary Jo had thoughtfully brought…two more. As any responsible adults would do, we decided to sample them. One margarita became two. Two somehow became two and a half jugs finished.

At roughly that point, Mary Jo confidently announced that there was absolutely no chance they were driving home that evening.

As if the day hadn’t already delivered enough, the sunset that evening was breathtaking. Brilliant oranges and pinks lit up the sky before giving way to one of the most vibrant rainbows I’ve ever seen.

In one of the night’s funniest moments, a delightfully tipsy Mary Jo immediately called the friend we’d visited earlier, not to thank him for hosting us, but to make absolutely certain he knew there was a rainbow outside. 

She delivered the breaking weather report with complete sincerity. It was equal parts hilarious and wholesome.

The rest of the evening was spent laughing around the table, telling stories, finishing off the margaritas, and enjoying one of those nights that nobody planned but everyone remembers. 

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The following morning arrived a little earlier than everyone would have preferred.

The girls, blissfully unaware of adult decision-making, were up and ready for adventure while the rest of the house experienced what can only be described as staggered, coffee-dependent resurrections.

I had the early shift with Joni and Evie and had a front-row seat to everyone’s painfully slow emergence from their bedrooms. Thank god for caffeine.  By breakfast, everyone had rallied. Even better, Kelly and her family were coming over for the day. The weather couldn’t have been more perfect. Warm sunshine. Blue skies. 

Joni and Acadia immediately disappeared into their own little world, playing together for hours as if they’d been best friends forever.

Mary Jo had packed an entire collection of activities for the girls.  They painted rocks with water, explored the beach, dug in the sand, and laughed hysterically every time we brought out the colorful parachute. Every adult eventually took a turn making it billow through the air while the girls squealed underneath. 

Meanwhile, the grown-ups adopted a slower pace. Drinks appeared. Snacks multiplied.

Conversations drifted from one topic to another while the children entertained themselves remarkably well.

By dinner, the Hogan family arrived, and suddenly the quiet beach house transformed into a full family gathering. Aunts, uncles, cousins, and friends all met Evie for the first time while burgers sizzled on the grill and cocktails magically kept refilling themselves. The kids played until they literally couldn’t anymore. 

Honestly…

It was just about a perfect summer day. 

⸻

The next morning featured a predictable amount of hangover management, but we still managed to rally for another adventure.

This time it was a kangaroo farm.

Only on vacation do you wake up thinking, “Today seems like a good day to feed kangaroos.” 

Joni absolutely loved it.

She fed kangaroos, petted wallabies, alpacas, goats, and just about every friendly animal willing to accept snacks from an enthusiastic toddler. Watching her cautiously offer food before erupting into laughter every time an animal took it never got old. 

We finished the evening exactly the way every summer vacation should end, with a bonfire on the beach.

As the sun slowly disappeared beyond the water, we roasted marshmallows, assembled s’mores. The adults were relaxed.  The fire crackled. And for a little while, there was nowhere else we’d rather have been. 

So far, this trip has been everything we’d hoped for…and maybe a little more.

Alpacas, Reporters, and the Longest Ferry Day

 

Our final full day on San Juan Island was exactly what vacations are supposed to be. Relaxing.

Our only official outing was a visit to the local alpaca farm, and I wasn’t prepared for just how adorable those fuzzy little creatures would be. Joni certainly wasn’t either. She cautiously fed a few alpacas before quickly deciding they were among the greatest inventions in the history of mankind.

As if that wasn’t memorable enough, there happened to be a reporter from the Cascadia Daily Newsvisiting the farm to write a feature on San Juan Island attractions. She was immediately drawn to Joni, who was happily feeding alpacas with complete toddler confidence. 

The reporter snapped photo after photo before laughing and telling us that one of them would probably end up on the cover. 

If you happen to be reading the Cascadia Daily News and spot a tiny brunette girl grinning ear to ear while feeding an alpaca…well…we know her. The rest of the day unfolded at exactly the pace we’d hoped for all week. No schedules. No rushing. No frantic loading of children into car seats. Just a peaceful afternoon around the Airbnb soaking in our last few hours on the island. 

That evening Emily and I even managed a proper date night while Vidah stayed behind with the girls. It felt wonderfully normal. We enjoyed a leisurely dinner, great conversation, and a fantastic bottle of wine. No one needed a diaper change. Nobody threw food. No one attempted to climb onto the table. Highly recommend date nights.

What a relaxing day…which, naturally, meant the following day would make up for it. 

Checkout was at 11:00 a.m. Our ferry reservation? 4:00 p.m. No problem.

Our brilliantly engineered parenting strategy was simple: clean the Airbnb, pack the SUV, then spend a couple hours driving around the island while both girls peacefully napped in their car seats. They would awaken refreshed just in time for the ferry, and everyone would live happily ever after. The plan was flawless however reality disagreed.

We managed to clean the house, pack everything, and check out on time. Then we set off on our scenic island drive, fully expecting two sleeping children within minutes. Instead, after nearly an hour and a half of driving, Joni managed roughly thirty minutes of sleep before being awakened by her little sister’s passionate objections to napping. So much for Plan A.

We stopped at Downriggers in Friday Harbor for lunch before wandering over to the Whale Museum. While we didn’t find any actual orcas, Joni was perfectly content riding a little whale-shaped seesaw, which in toddler terms is honestly just as exciting. 

Next came one of her favorite vacation traditions: the local library. She wandered from toy to toy with such enthusiasm that the librarians completely fell under her spell. Before we left, they had unofficially enrolled her in the summer reading program just so they could give her a free children’s book. 

Eventually it was time to line up for the ferry. Which meant sitting in the car. With two children. For an hour. Waiting.

If you’ve never experienced this particular form of endurance sport, count yourself fortunate. Once aboard, all of the adults were running on fumes, so Vidah stayed behind in the SUV to catch a well-earned nap while Emily and I took Joni exploring.

She was, once again, the unofficial entertainment for the entire ferry. She toddled nearly every hallway on the ship, waved enthusiastically at strangers, and spent long stretches standing proudly on the bow, staring out over the water with the wind in her hair. Passengers smiled everywhere we went. She was adorable. 

But beneath the endless curiosity were the unmistakable signs of a toddler who was hanging on by the tiniest of emotional threads. Every parent knows the look.

They’re still smiling…

…until suddenly they aren’t.

The unraveling began the moment we drove off the ferry. Both girls decided they had reached their absolute limit. The chorus of crying began before we’d even cleared the terminal and continued all the way to Costco.

By the time we arrived, everyone was exhausted, hungry, wearing increasingly questionable diapers, and wondering why traveling with children had ever seemed like a good idea. Fortunately, Costco pizza exists.

Never has a greasy slice of pepperoni tasted so restorative. Miraculously, food solved almost everything. The crying stopped. The adults regained the ability to think. We bought groceries, drove to our next Airbnb near the beach, unloaded what felt like seventeen thousand pounds of luggage, and collapsed into bed. 

Sunshine, Sand, and a Portuguese Polar Bear

 The San Juan Islands have been exactly what we needed: a slower pace, beautiful scenery, and just enough adventure to keep things interesting.

After a surprisingly decent night with Evie, we awoke with a plan.

The first stop of the day was the Sculpture Park near Roche Harbor, an enormous 20-acre property filled with winding pathways, open meadows, ponds, and enough sculptures to make you constantly ask, “What do you think that is supposed to be?”Joni absolutely loved it. 

She spent the morning wandering through the grass under the warm sunshine, investigating every path, flower, and interesting object she could find. Her enthusiasm was boundless. Her endurance, however, was not. Eventually the wheels came off.

Before long I found myself carrying Evie in a chest carrier while simultaneously transporting Joni on my shoulders, a configuration that probably will cause back pains later but got the job done.  We wandered through whimsical forest trails, circled ponds dotted with water features, and crossed open fields where strange sculptures seemed to emerge from nowhere, inviting equal parts curiosity and confusion. By the end, everyone was happily exhausted.

We returned home for our now-sacred afternoon siesta, resting up for what would become one of the highlights of the trip. South Beach.

The afternoon was unusually warm for the Pacific Northwest. The sun was high, the sky was cloudless, and the beach stretched out before us in postcard-perfect fashion.

The water, however, remained committed to being Alaska-adjacent. While the air was warm, the ocean was absolutely frigid. Joni barely noticed.

The sand instantly became the greatest discovery of her young life. She dug, ran, scooped, built, destroyed, and repeated the cycle endlessly. Hours disappeared as she played with the sort of complete commitment that only toddlers can achieve. 

Meanwhile, the heat eventually convinced me to attempt a swim. The first few steps into the water were uncomfortable. The next few were regrettable. The rest were oddly invigorating.

Cold enough to make life choices flash before your eyes, yet somehow refreshing once you surrendered to it. 

Joni watched my swim with great interest and decided she would do the same. Her confidence lasted right up until the moment the icy water touched her feet. She immediately reconsidered. Though in the cutest fashion she stood frozen, freezing with her feet in the water looking up at me with pleading eyes to rescue her. 

Perhaps my greatest achievement of the day, however, was convincing Vidah to join me. She bravely entered the water. She bravely submerged. She emerged speaking Portuguese at a speed I had never previously witnessed. While I cannot verify exactly what was said, I am reasonably confident none of it was complimentary toward the temperature of the Pacific Ocean.

We spent hours soaking up the sunshine before finally returning home tired, sandy, and completely content. After a quick dinner and another respectable night of sleep from Evie, we were ready for another day of exploring.

The following morning brought us to Lime Kiln Point State Park, home to one of the most iconic lighthouses in the Pacific Northwest. 

The area owes much of its history to the lime industry that once dominated the islands. During the late 1800s, limestone deposits were quarried here and processed in large kilns overlooking the shoreline. The resulting lime was shipped throughout the region for use in mortar, plaster, agriculture, and construction. What remains today are the restored kilns, a lighthouse, and some of the most spectacular views in the San Juan Islands. 

After a few short hikes through the park, we found ourselves staring out over Haro Strait toward the Olympic Mountains. The views were priceless.  The area is famous for orca sightings, and we spent plenty of time scanning the water hopefully. No whales this time. Still worth every minute. 

Unfortunately, both girls chose this particular day to stage a coordinated rebellion against naptime. By lunchtime everyone was operating on diminished reserves, which resulted in a slightly tense, but undeniably delicious, meal in Roche Harbor. Thankfully, Roche Harbor itself is hard to stay grumpy in. 

The resort traces its roots back to the 1880s when entrepreneur John S. McMillin built one of the largest lime-producing operations on the West Coast.  The company town that grew around the industry eventually evolved into the resort destination visitors enjoy today. Historic buildings, manicured gardens, marinas filled with impressive yatchs, and waterfront views make it one of the most picturesque spots in the islands. 

We spent the afternoon wandering the grounds, admiring the harbor, and imagining what life must have looked like when limestone was mined.  Eventually we headed back to the Airbnb for some much-needed relaxation.

Only one day remains in this little island paradise.