Refreshing salt air buffeted me softly as I leaned against the ferry railing. The mainland was just a streak on the horizon, and the emerald-green water bubbled, forming lacey patterns in a trail behind us. Seagulls churned the air, crying raucously, in hopes that someone might toss popcorn skyward for them to catch. Off the port side, we approached a rounded hummock of an island, solidly blanketed with the deep blue-green of a Douglas fir and cedar forest. Another forested island, rimmed with driftwood, slipped past on the starboard side.

Over the soughing of the waves and cries of the gulls, the ferry’s public-address system crackled as a voice announced: “The Lopez Island soccer team wishes Casey a happy birthday!” Cheers erupted from the passengers, and smiles broke out as everyone joined in the celebration.

Even before the announcement, I had a big smile on my face. Along with my husband, I was on my way to one of my favorite places: Washington state’s San Juan Islands, an enchanting archipelago where visitors and locals alike wave as they pass each other, where kayaking and bicycling are as common as driving, and where the pace of life slows to a languid mosey, whether along gallery-filled streets or along a sandy beach.

There are 172 named islands in the San Juan archipelago, between Canada and Washington state.

The San Juans, located north of Seattle , between Washington’s mainland and Canada’s Vancouver Island, consist of 172 named islands, with a population of just over 14,000. The largest is Orcas Island, a horseshoe-shaped island that encompasses 360,000 acres (147.37 km²).

Four of the largest islands (San Juan, Lopez, Orcas and Shaw) are reachable by state ferry service; the others range from privately-owned islands to tiny islets with marine campgrounds. Situated in the rain shadow of the Olympic Mountains to the west, the San Juans enjoy 247 days of sunshine annually, and average only 22 inches (56 cm) of rainfall, making them ideal for exploring in every season.

As we rolled down the ferry ramp and onto the dock, we were greeted by a row of bright flowers in pots decorating the ramp, offering a cheery welcome to Lopez Island. I already knew all about Lopez’s welcoming attitude, from years of visits. In my youth, I had sailed here with friends and rowed ashore to traverse the island beaches.

On other trips, I had ridden my camping gear-laden bike off the ferry, then meandered through fields of browsing sheep to Spencer Spit State Park. There, I watched great blue herons stalking minnows in a saltwater lagoon, counted graceful deer and scurrying rabbits, and then counted the stars at night, sitting around a campfire with friends.

On visits to Orcas Island, I kayaked to the nearby wilderness preserve of Jones Island, soaked in the streamside outdoor tub at the rustic Doe Bay Resort & Retreat and climbed to the top of Mt. Constitution for a bird’s-eye view of the islands and skerries. On San Juan Island I visited art galleries and attended an intimate jazz concert. And on diminutive Shaw Island, I biked to a tranquil beachside campsite.

On this trip, though, we weren’t roughing it. It was fall, and rather than waking up to frost, my husband, Eric, and I had chosen to stay in the charming, Cape Cod– inspired Three Seasons cottage, in Lopez Village. We settled into the sea-themed cottage with its blue-and-white décor, then set out on our walk to dinner. We didn’t have to walk far to the Bay Café, with its gorgeous views of Fisherman’s Bay and distant islands. A crackling fire warmed the intimate room, and soft jazz music set the stage for creative riffs on local fare.