How to Plan a Solo Trip to Whidbey Island, Washington

A stream ran down the inside of my rain gear from head to toe. I stood on the promontory and watched the harbor seals flit about in the cool water below, gleeful as a child. Further offshore, an elephant seal fished for lunch, and in a rocky cove, an otter swayed on its back, holding a crab between its paws. It was the beginning of the rainy season and I was seeking solitude on Whidbey Island.

Located about 55 miles north of Seattle, this island is often overshadowed by the San Juan Islands, a well-known but less developed archipelago further north in Puget Sound. But that can't be true. Whidbey is easy to get to, just a 20-minute ferry ride from the mainland town of Mukilteo, and it's less crowded.

I wanted to experience the entire length of the island without having to turn around, so instead of taking the ferry to the south end, I drove two hours from Seattle and crossed the Deception Pass Bridge, the historic bridge that connects Whidbey from the north. The fog was thick and the rain was falling in sheets, making for a dramatic entrance. Rather than heading directly to the hotel, we detoured to Deception Pass State Park and parked in a parking lot overlooking a shallow bay, relieved that there were no other cars.

It was my first plane trip since the pandemic. My partner and I were newly separated, leaving our young twins behind at home in New York's Hudson Valley. Having traveled all over the country by plane, I wanted to be alone and interact with the forest and water.

I followed trail signs, crossed pebble beaches, and climbed steep cliffs nestled in Douglas firs. The trees offered no protection from the rain, but I was already drenched so I didn't care. We clambered over rocky outcroppings until we reached a clearing. And there I found my first seal. I don't know how long I stayed there, but I felt blissfully small as the sea animals were unaware of my presence. My fingers started to go numb, so I got back in the car and headed south, the humidity fogging up the windows.

Whidbey Island is only about 40 miles long, but it feels much larger because it's mostly winding two-lane roads. I drove about 30 minutes past the main town of Oak Harbor and arrived at Captain Whidbey., This 1907 inn in Penn Cove has recently been renovated. I stayed in a glass wing cabin. It has wood paneling, a fireplace and a balcony overlooking the cove. I wrapped my still damp body in a woolen blanket and admired the scenery. A great blue heron was perched on the long dock of the hotel. I was amazed at its ability to remain still.

The heron remained there even after I changed into dry clothes and walked to the main lodge for an early dinner at the bar. I brought the book to tell the bartender that he wasn't looking for company. After she brought me a perfect rye Manhattan and a few small plates, she kindly left me alone. She returned to the cabin, took a hot bath, and fell into a long sleep.

In the morning I had coffee on the balcony. The heron was there again. (Was I there all night?) The day progressed slowly and thankfully without a plan. I spent the morning at the 151-acre Greenbank Farm. It has a cafe and miles of dog-friendly trails. As I reached the top of the first bump, the clouds moved aside to reveal the snow-capped peaks of the mainland Cascade Mountains. Then I headed to the forest and walked for hours, but only went outside when I realized I was getting hungry.

Luckily, the quiet village of Coupeville was only a 15 minute drive.We ate a pile of Penn Cove mussels with fries and drank beer at Toby's Tavern.. I wandered around town, stopping at the Kingfisher Bookstore (the island has a thriving literary community) and heading to Briggs Shore Ceramics, which occupies a small house across the street. I was wondering about the heron. I have come to think of the heron as the caretaker of the cove. When we returned to the Captain Whidbey, it was still at the dock.

The next day I said goodbye to the bird and headed south along a road surrounded by small farms. The rain came down again, but I barely noticed it under the towering canopy of Trustland Trails Park, where I spent the morning foraging for mushrooms. I walked until I was hungry and then drove to a small town called Langley. The city had several wineries and an arts center. At Saltwater Fish House & Oyster Bar, we ordered raw oysters, a green salad, a hearty chowder and a flint white wine.

Full and tired, I walked a few minutes to the Inn at Langley., A place to spend your last night. My room was flooded with light and had an unobstructed view of Puget Sound. I soaked in the tub and spent the afternoon cooling off in the crisp air on the balcony. By that time, the sky had cleared, so we walked to the shore, admiring the starfish and driftwood. From the sound, three elderly women appeared, wearing wet suits soaked in cold water. I was impressed with their physical strength and spirit. They looked like island creatures, like herons.

On my last morning, I woke up to sunlight. After a leisurely breakfast at the inn, I drove to Deer Lagoon Sanctuary, a bird sanctuary surrounded by steep cliffs. The sun was so bright that through binoculars we could barely see the Golden Grebe, Grebe, or Sandpiper. I wanted to stay but needed to catch a ferry. The time I spent on the island freed me from my narrow world and brought me back to my true self. It's strange how being far away can make you feel like you're back home. Like that heron, I needed to return to my community, my family, and my perch.

A version of this article first appeared in the February 2024 issue of the magazine. travel + leisure The headline is “Escape.”