We caught an Uber to Renton Airport, at the south end of Lake Washington. I’d never even heard of it before, but there were planes everywhere—none of which I recognised. It turns out they were Boeing planes, still waiting for their airline branding. It was pretty cool to see them in their pre-decorated state.

The Friday Harbor Seaplanes office was like a mini-museum – an airplane hangar decked out with antique seaplane memorabilia. Our 2 pm flight time came and went, and soon we found out the plane’s radio was broken. Small world moment—our pilot turned out to be an Aussie from the Sunshine Coast. By 3 pm, I started to worry a bit. The flight was about an hour, and the rental car place was a 15-minute walk from the marina and closed at 5 pm. I called to ask about after-hours pickup, and the woman I spoke with was super nice and reassuring, which eased my mind.

Finally, a little after 3:30, they called us for the flight. With only three passengers, I got to sit up front with the pilot, which was pretty cool. The flight itself was stunning. There was a lot of air traffic out of Seattle—passenger jets above us and other seaplanes below. We flew over the fancy houses on Mercer Island, cruised along the east shore of Lake Washington, and even caught a glimpse of the Hood Canal Bridge. No nuclear subs out that day, though.

We landed around 4:45 pm, and I left Andy with our bags at the marina while I sprinted up Spring Street to the rental car place, making it right at 5 pm. I was pretty pleased with myself. The place had a used car lot vibe, but I’d booked a medium car and ended up upgrading to a PT Cruiser convertible. Meanwhile, Andy found a marimba band set up at the marina.

The Airbnb was a 15-minute drive from town, and it was like stepping into a chamber of commerce postcard. The cottage was perched on a massive piece of waterfront property, and the weather was perfect. We couldn’t believe that just 24 hours earlier, we were stuck on a broken ship. We checked CruiseMapper, and sure enough, the poor Sea Lion was still stuck in port.

The next day, we had an adventure tour with San Juan Safaris on a 34-foot Zodiac-style boat. Even though it was sunny and warm, we suited up in exposure suits—and I was glad we did once we hit the water.

We saw a bunch of seals, but no orca. Our Airbnb host messaged to say there were orcas passing right in front of the cottage. He also mentioned there’s a Facebook group for whale sightings, plus a hydrophone and webcam at Lime Kiln. Our whale-watching boat couldn’t stop for the residents due to regulations.

Our captain was in radio contact with other vessels and decided to give it a go when orcas were spotted, even though it was almost an hour and a half ride away. We ended up way around the tip of Vancouver Island—felt like we were halfway to Alaska. My phone even alerted me that we were in Canada. But we saw orcas! It was our first time seeing them in the wild, and it was impressive. Those dorsal fins can reach up to 6 feet tall.

The next day, we went on the “Classic” tour since the adventure tour was booked out. I thought the bigger boat might not see as much, but boy, was I wrong. No exposure suits needed on this larger, more comfortable boat—it even had a snack bar. We stopped to see the seals again (always a good sight), and within 20 minutes, we spotted a humpback. The captain then announced that while the humpback was awesome, he’d heard of orcas nearby. Ten minutes later, we were on them. The water was much calmer, and the larger boat made the experience even better. We stayed with the orcas for almost 45 minutes, and then a minke whale appeared—a new species for us! On the way back, we stopped for more seals and even spotted a patient otter in perfect light.

Though this wasn’t the holiday we’d planned, it turned out to be an excellent recovery. We’re extremely fortunate living where we do in Australia—few places can compete. But San Juan Island is definitely one of them.

I dropped off Andy at the marina, returned the rental car, and walked back to the dock—no check-in or anything, you just stand where they dropped you off. There were two planes on the dock, but neither was our yellow Beaver. Some were headed to Victoria, others to fly-in fishing lodges further up into Canada.

Eventually, our plane arrived, with the same pilot as on the way up. None of the planes were taking off right away—there was weather somewhere. Eventually, we got the all-clear, though the pilot explained we might have to turn around if the weather didn’t cooperate. Andy sat up front this time.

All was fine weather-wise, though the radio between passengers still wasn’t working. Halfway through the flight, Andy turned around and showed me a message he’d typed on his phone: “We should do this more often.”