The rain has stopped, replaced with a teeming mist, and the clouds in the morning sky outside the windows of the guest house are a leaden gray that threaten another downpour at any moment. Brandon sets off into the drizzle, retracing his steps from last night.
In the drear light of the cloudy sky Brandon gets a sense of just how rural the west side of the island really is as he hikes along the road. Small ranches line the route, with the occasional subdivision of estate homes interspersed with the pastures and meadows. The gate to the state park is open this morning, and Brandon stops in for a quick necessity break – interpretive displays indicate that the park is a prime spot for viewing orcas in the Haro Strait during the summer months.
Resuming his trek the road winds through the hilly north end of the island, past the turn off to English Camp, a part of the San Juan Island National Historic Site, Brandon negotiates the short up-and-down grades before descending at last to the north shore. Next to a driveway is a large wooden sign that reads, “Roche Harbor – a private resort.” A small guard house holds a large security officer at the top of the driveway.
Minutes after Brandon leaves, as the other three set their plans, there is a soft knock at the door of the guesthouse. “Good morning, this is Luz,” comes the sing-song voice of the housekeeper. “Would anyone like some breakfast?”
