The Hope Island Adventure

The Himmer High Adventure
The Hope Island Saga
September 2006

And so it was, that after I had committed to my family that we would schedule our lives around family events instead of my work, we planned a kayak trip to Hope Island that would include all the human members of our family. These plans were set weeks in advance, yea, perhaps even months. Winston Churchill was fond of saying that the plan is insignificant compared to the planning; in fact, it’s all about the planning.

Our original plan was to run the Hamersley Inlet current that can reach 3 knots and back. After conversing with Dan Carson and getting a firm read on the current schedule, we determined it would be best to launch from the Arcadia Point boat ramp, spend the night on Hope Island and catch the tide up the Inlet, lunch and play for a few hours, catch the returning current back to Hope Island, Dutch oven dinner and dessert, spend the night and return in time for church. Somewhere along the planning stage things morphed and this is the story:
Cheri’s fondness of her dog knows few boundaries. She views Doc as a homo sapient rather than a canine. Her determination to have Doc accompany the human family on our vacation was set in stone and not open to discussion, logic, reason or common sense. Those in my reading audience familiar with my lovely bride know this description of her to be the anti-thesis of her normal modus operandi. Obstacles of significant difficulty beset our little adventure if just humans were to participate, but this trip, Doc Holladay our newly acquired prison escapee and Service Dog drop out would be joining us. Here is the Himmer 2006 High Adventure to Hope Island planned for September 1 – September 3, 2006.
Friday September 1, I left work early (2:30 PM) to pack for the trip. Cheri had most of the essentials taken care of (food, clothing, tents, sleeping bags, Dutch ovens, etc.) Cheri had done most of the research for the tides and the logistics. Doc would cross the pass between Arcadia boat launch and Hope Island in the newly purchased raft ($14.95) and pulled behind Cheri’s kayak (YES, she was warned that would be difficult.) I would have young Samuel Himmer in my storage hatch and Charles would pull the excess cargo raft (identical to Doc seaworthy vessel.)
Packing and loading took some time. We loaded the Thule with all the sleeping bags, tarps, sleeping pads and the Himmer Courtyard (our oversized REI tent that sleeps 6.) Everything else fit nicely into Cheri’s Yukon and my Highlander. I had 4 kayaks on my car and Cheri carried Scott’s.
The trip took 90 minutes to Olympia because of traffic. We stopped at a Quizno’s for dinner then headed to Arcadia Boat launch. We unloaded all the gear from the cars and put most of the gear in the kayaks with the remaining gear being loaded into the raft. We tied the raft to Charles kayak and tied Doc’s raft to Cheri’s kayak. Stuart was in charge of the knot and used the bolyn. After securing everything in the vessels and tying down the raft, we parked the cars and launched our barges to the promised land of Hope. We were 5 kayaks and two rafts as we commenced the crossing of the water. Total distance for today’s voyage is calculated at ca. 1 mile.
After everyone was launched into the water, Samuel and I got underway. Doc’s first moments in the raft were shaky as he sat on the aft baffle with his tail and rump dragging in the water. His master-ette and alpha had strategically placed some food paper-wrapped in the bottom of the raft to lure the homo-sapient-canine into the floatation device. Her strategy worked until the vittles were gone and the paper was discarded into the Pacific Ocean. Samuel and I took on the role of Sanitation Engineers and Samuel adeptly scooped up the litter and we joined our family paddling across the great expanse to the land of Hope.
Stuart stayed next to Doc and Cheri shouting commands at Doc in an effort to keep the human-dog dry. Charles lay back to observe and Scott and I pressed forward to keep Sam from Doc’s eyes and therefore attention. The tide was about .5 – 1 knot against us during our crossing. Cheri noticed a dramatic drag against her as she paddled with a 70 lb. dog-man in constant motion uncomfortably searching for a solution in the raft. It was a beautiful setting, all of us enjoying the scenery, looking at Mr. Rainier, the waning sun, the greenery that is Western Washington, the chilling touch of the water and a dog-man in the raft with shouts of encouragement to sit, lay down, and stay in constant repetition for almost ¾ of a mile.

If I was a betting man and needed instant cash, my money was on a wet homo-sapient-canine before land.
As Scott and I were discussing one of Scott’s unique questions, I thought I heard uncontrollable laughing aft of our position. I banked port and noticed the raft behind Cheri was no longer home to a pacing hybrid son with a Sheriff at the OK Corral as a namesake. Cheri and Stuart were valiantly shouting commands at a red-bedecked dog paddling eastward to Hope Island (Cheri had the foresight to purchase a PFD for Doc.)

I circled back around and saw Cheri’s son was in reality a dog and not accustomed to following basic human commands outside of sit, heal, fetch, down, roll-over and come. Regardless of our strategies, we could not get Doc back into the raft. He tried to climb aboard my kayak with Sam and I had to use my paddle to extricate him. He maintained a constant paddle in the correct direction and we kept running him over with the raft or kayak in our feeble attempt at dog rescuing.
In the melee of confusion I expressed great displeasure with my bride; which she accepted without refutation or argument. I almost felt guilty because she offered no excuse or explanation for our predicament. Did I say almost? Charles handled the situation with great alacrity; he burst into uncontrollable laughter and thank heavens he didn’t fall out of his kayak and we didn’t have to rescue him. He was completely useless to the cause, nor did he consider the ramifications of further unexpecteds that may occur. We eventually reached the Shore of Hope Island and Doc jumped out. He shook himself of the excess water and walked around in exploration mode. A rather unflappable dog if I say so myself. We attempted to put him back in the raft but it was no use, so we paddled southward around the bend to our campsite. He followed with minor explorations.
Upon reaching the entrance to our campsite, Scott had by now paddled long past our destination and was around the Island at another campsite, I unloaded Sam out of the kayak and noticed two signs, “No Campfires” and “No Pets.” I wasn’t sure if Cheri considered Doc as a pet or a son, but the rest of the world had an opinion. She assured me that pets were allowed in State campgrounds and that the Hope Island website did not indicate either case.
We retrieved Scott from his adventure and commenced unloading the kayaks and setting up camp. As far as we could discern, there were no other campers on the Island. We stored the kayaks on the racks provided by the Rangers. We had food and clothing everywhere and Stuart set up the Taj 3. As I finished unloading the last of the gear I could not locate any sleeping bags, nor could I locate the Himmer Courtyard, and just like an unexpected rabbit punch to the solar plexus I realized that we had not unloaded the Thule, and all of our sleeping bags, pillows, and the big tent were now over a mile away in our car. We eventually found all three headlamps and left one behind. Charles and I launched our kayaks back into the water each pulling a cargo raft. We crossed without incident, although we had difficulty finding the boat launch due to darkness. It was a gorgeously clear night with a half-moon to the South. The stars were dim due to the moon’s light, but the big dipper was directly in front of us as we paddled west to shore. We reminisced what it must have been like during WWII paddling in the Orient as camouflaged saboteurs sneaking into Japanese harbors and blowing up their ships.
We loaded all the gear into the rafts and paddled back against the current. We finished setting up camp using our headlamps and gathered in the big tent for family prayer. Doc was fast asleep with a respectable snore within 1 minute of Cheri’s caressing. Charles and Sam switched places due to a large tree root that covered ½ the sleeping area. Charles did not fare much better as he soon discovered smaller tree roots under his pad. Perhaps next time the entire family could wisely remain in the floating craft and light would allow us sufficient time to discover these hidden inconveniences.
Morning broke and Sam appeared in our tent to welcome in the new day. So far we had not come in contact with the Ranger, at least Doc had not. Cheri and Sam took a long walk around the Island and Sam had a great learning experience seeing trees, plants and old cultivating tools he’d not seen before. After breakfast, our original intent was to paddle up Hamersley Inlet with a 3-knot current, eat lunch, and paddle back with the current change. Stuart and Scott both volunteered to stay with Cheri and her 6th child so we decided on taking a walk and staying on the Island instead.
We started on our walk and played a throwing game in the apple orchard while Cheri took care of the necessary. Charles, Scott and I had an accuracy throwing game with the apples. The game was at a draw. Cheri soon appeared and Stuart had to go. Stuart returned and we never finished the game. We soon commenced our walk and met Bekka the Ranger. We were invited to leave the Island within 90 minutes. Cheri argued there was no indication of no pets on Hope Island from the website. I believed her and supported her arguments with my own version of frustration.
I called Bekka’s supervisor, Janet, and explained our situation. She gave us permission to remain until late afternoon but felt the website surely indicated no pets. We hiked to the eastern side of the Island and found a very sandy beach, no rocks and shaded. We skimmed rocks, visited, relaxed and took naps before we returned. Janet was now on the Island and presented me with the home page of Hope Island and the line where “no pets allowed” was displayed. We offered our apologies and prepared for departure.
Our discussion now centered on getting off the Island. Stuart and Doc were to ride in the raft behind my kayak with a huge bag of chicken. Cheri would pull Stuart’s kayak and Charles again took the cargo raft. We headed into about a 1-knot current. Our trip would last 1 hour. We devised various methods of helping me pull over 200 lbs of dead weight in a very cheap and flat raft. Scott tried to push, but that didn’t work. Then we found some rope and Scott tied it to the front of Stuart’s raft where my rope was tied. Scott then paddled up next to me and for 15 seconds it seemed easier, but Scott started getting too close to me and there was a ripple heading at us from the port side.
I instructed Scott to veer a little left to offset the pull, avoid contact with me and prepare for the ripple. What he understood was a sharp port side turn and so he headed off perpendicular to my course. I soon found myself thrust starboard without directional control. After I yelled a few choice words at Scott I realized I was being pulled backwards and Stuart was in the middle of Scott and me. If you drew a line connecting Scott to Stuart to me, it would be straight. Charles handled this situation with amazing consistency; he almost laughed himself out of his kayak. His laughter was contagious and I found myself without the ability to paddle, so we laughed ourselves silly until I regain my composure and we eventually started off to the Arcadia boat launch.

By now, Cheri was already ashore. Scott pulled up next to us, muttered something in teenager and kept going, Sam picked up his dragging rope and held on. This proved to be the best solution so far, and so we eventually made shore with Scott pulling us, held on by Sam with Stuart holding onto Doc.
After loading up, we rewarded ourselves with some ice-cream treats in Shelton at DQ. The temperature read 91 degrees and we ate outside sitting on the curb because Doc was not allowed inside DQ. I’m sure it was on their website, but Cheri didn’t check and I wasn’t in the mood to ask.
As a side note, the boys and I noticed a 2006, 1800cc Honda Gold Wing, black, with a reverse, back seat heated leather, a navigational program and all the bells and whistles. We listened to Brian Regan on the way home using the I Pod transmitter, so Cheri and Scott could listen along with us in their car. Charles slept.
Everyone helped put the gear away and we watched National Treasure with the family, including Doc. Even though we didn’t get to paddle the distance we originally planned, it was like a Body For Life workout, high intensity, and short distance.
In summary, we had a great time. Doc’s changing of plans was a mute point as we all laughed and enjoyed the family time together. We missed our Andrew, but we talked about him and included him in all of our prayers.