Sitting in our cockpit looking over at beautiful McMicken Island, we were struck by how quiet it was.

The two days we’d just spent in Olympia were entertaining and involved, among other things, seeing a punk band, eating burritos the size of small children, sampling an array of beers at an old tavern that reportedly inspired Moe’s Tavern in The Simpsons and marveling at what may be the best farmers market we’ve ever seen (we’ll be writing more about Olympia soon).

After a couple of busy days, we were ready for a change of pace. McMicken fit the bill perfectly. Aside from the tweeting and cawing of birds in the island’s tall trees, all was quiet. No traffic rumbling in the distance. No jet-skis roaring by. Even an airplane was just a faint hum miles away. There were only two other boats moored nearby and at night, it was so quiet that we could hear one of the boaters zipping up a piece of canvas. 

We’ve heard that McMicken, a marine park on Case Inlet off the east side of Harstine Island, can attract dozens of boats on holiday weekends. But on Monday the place was almost empty, its peacefulness a reminder of the constant backdrop of noise that is the soundtrack of life in a city – and just how good it is to escape it once in a while.

If you’ve never been to McMicken Island, you’re missing out. It’s a jewel of a place, an 11-acre, wooded island crisscrossed with walking paths. Look for the trailhead on the east end of the island near the outhouse and wear pants and long sleeves for protection from the poison oak that grows throughout the island. A sign near the outhouse (“leaves of three, leave it be”) helpfully provides photos of what poison oak looks like in different seasons and warns that contact results in blisters and a rash.

Walking McMicken's forested trails, we had the island to ourselves.

Besides the outhouses and a few caretaker buildings on private property, the island is undeveloped. The trails lead to viewpoints on bluffs overlooking the water, and if it’s a clear day you might catch a glimpse of Mount Rainier.

Even more fun was the hour or so we spent beachcombing on the island’s rock and sand shores. When the tide is out, a sandspit connecting McMicken and Harstine islands dries out – a reminder that boats trying to pass between the two risk running aground. There are three state park buoys on the north side and two on the south. Anchoring is reportedly made difficult by deep water and hard ground close to shore, so a buoy is probably your best bet.

The area teems with life, from small crabs scuttling by to the horse clams that shot jets of water surprising distances as the interlopers passed by (one actually managed to soak the seat of my shorts). We saw stranded fried egg jellyfish up close, their yolk-like centers immobile as they waited helplessly for the tide to come in.

We saw the odd, perfectly shaped sand collars that wash ashore after providing cover for the dreaded Lewis’s Moonsnail, a diabolical creature that preys on clams, wrapping its foot around the clam’s shell, drilling a hole in it and sucking out the helpless bivalve.

Besides a few caretaker buildings on private property, McMicken is undeveloped.

Countless shells from clams and cockles were strewn about, suggesting a well-fed bird population. There were more sand dollars than we’ve ever seen in one place, literally hundreds of them. The area is prime ground for oyster gathering and clamming, including geoducks, and a sign confirmed that almost all fisheries were open.

We kicked ourselves for neglecting to bring along any clamming gear (or a shellfish license). I love clams almost as much as crab, and couldn’t help fantasizing about whipping up a fresh clam linguine with wine, butter and garlic sauce.

After a consolation dinner of tortellini and salad, we kicked back in the cockpit as the sun went down. After dark, the birds settled in for the night and we were enveloped in blissful quiet. Usually we like to sit in the cockpit after dark and listen to music but this time we left the stereo off, not wanting to spoil the solitude.

The next morning, the other two boats had left by the time we got back from our walk and the sun was shining. The first two days of our cruise were chilly and rainy, but on Tuesday morning it was surprisingly warm – warm enough to try our cockpit shower for the first time. We’ve never had a cockpit shower before, so it’s a bit of a novelty. I can tell you two things about it – the water pressure is excellent, and it’s bracingly, head-achingly cold (note to self: pack the solar shower for the next cruise). Marty was positively gleeful after his icy scrubdown, declaring the shower his favorite part of the boat at the moment. 

After breakfast we headed off for our next stop somewhat reluctantly, already thinking about a return visit to McMicken Island. If there’s a more beautiful place in the South Sound, I’ll be surprised.

About Deborah Bach

Deborah Bach is the editor and co-founder of Three Sheets Northwest. She is an avid sailor and long-time professional journalist. You can find Deborah aboard Three Sheets, an Island Packet 38, with her husband Marty and their cat Lily.

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