Having long been a fan of flight simulators, I've logged countless hours soaring through the digital skies in Microsoft's evolving simulations, the now-nostalgic Pilotwings on the Nintendo 64, and on anything in-between. Of the many spots I’ve flown over the years, Washington’s San Juan Islands became a instant favorite when I first discovered them, serving as a scenic base camp for everything from stunt flying under the nearby Deception Pass bridge to watching playful orcas from my virtual cockpit.

Whenever I’d mention the location to someone else, they’d always confuse it with Puerto Rico’s capital city, and I’d always have to explain that I was talking about the other San Juan. And now, as my ferry docked, I was finally rolling into the area for the first time in the real-world.

I quickly made my way to the campsite, where I pitched my tent and set off for a day of island exploration. With a population smaller than my high school and a density less the remote town of Ely, Nevada, Lopez Island exuded a rural small-town feel.

The locals greeted me with friendly waves as they drove by, and the island's shops and eateries operated on their own relaxed time, if they were even open. One place I found that remained accessible, even when closed, was the outdoor museum, where I immersed myself in its exhibits and absorbed a bit of the island's unique history.

As evening rolled in, I found myself on the southern side of Lopez, ready to experience true reason for visiting this island: tree climbing. Led by an experienced guide, I learned the technique to ascend the ropes into the canopy. Although my guide had more than a dozen years of experience on me, I managed to squat-and-reach and stand-and-pull my way into the highest branches of the Douglas Fir trees.

As the sun raced towards the horizon, my guide pointed out Mount Baker, its snow-capped peak contrasting beautifully against the lush green surroundings and handful of other notable landmarks. From my elevated vantage point, I marveled at the panoramic view around me, savoring the sight of forests, coastlines, and mountains, though I couldn’t get over the surrealness of the fact that I was standing in a 200-foot Christmas tree.

Despite returning to my camp well past 10 PM, I found myself continuing to wake up with the early morning sun. With hours to spare before the morning ferry to my next island, I whiled away the time, enjoying a cup of locally brewed coffee and forcing myself to simply sit and relax, something I’ve always been terrible at. Luckily, with the stops at Shaw and Orcas island making this next ferry ride the longest of the interisland routes, I would have another chance to practice.

I exited the ferry into Friday Harbor, the county seat of the San Juans. The city’s urban energy gave off a noticeably different vibe than the quaint charm of Lopez Island, but there was still a similar small town allure.  I crossed the island, making my way to my campsite and passing the small farms that spread across the landscape. These were not the massive produce farms of the American mid-west, but family farms designed to feed the local community. After setting up my camp once again, I returned to Friday Harbor, this time to visit the local brewery and browse through the town’s charming shops, on the hunt for souvenirs to share with my kids.

I woke up the next morning to a chilly breeze and grabbed my phone to check the weather. It was hovering in the upper 40s and was predicted to barely reach 60 by midday. With the strong 15-20mph winds, I knew I’d be freezing during the day’s kayak adventure. After a long debate with myself, I made the call to cancel the day’s activity. I simply didn’t have the gear for cold-weather paddling. Instead, I decided to shift the rest of my schedule and head back home a day sooner. Since I had planned to return to work immediately after two long riding days, I figured the newfound rest day would do me good anyway.

I packed up my tent once again and cruised back into town. After another local coffee, I took a leisurely stroll down the main street and popped into the whale museum to kill time while waiting for my next ferry. I might have missed out on spotting a whale from a kayak, but I could at least still learn a thing or two about them.

I rolled off the ferry onto Orcas Island and, as I made my way towards Eastsound, a warm and fuzzy feeling swept over me as I started recognizing familiar sections of the terrain I had seen on countless simulated flights.

The town itself had a touristy vibe to it, though not the typical cheesy, money-sucking feel of most tourist centers. This was more of a "for everything local, by the locals" feeling with its assortment of small businesses. The only chain store in sight was a single Ace Hardware.

I stopped into one store, Orcas Island Leather, and was hit with the aroma of fresh cut leather. I didn’t really know what to expect from the leatherworks store, but was drawn to a selection of small notebook covers with a compass rose stamped into the front. I stuck up a conversation with the owner, Mindy, curious if the larger sized covers could be stamped in time for my afternoon ferry. While we talked, she showed me examples of other customizations I could do, and I placed an order for a custom-made notebook cover. Sized for an A5 notebook, with a compass rose stamped into it's chocolate-brown exterior, and with a blue interior and threading, it would be beautiful. I loved the service and couldn't wait to recieve my product in the mail once home.

Shopping complete, I headed toward Moran State Park. The road to the top was a scenic, twisty adventure, leading me straight to the top of Mt. Constitution and, at 2409 feet, the highest point in the island chain and a stone tower from the 1930s. I had studied this spot during my Master's program, doing an analysis of its views of the surrounding islands, Mt Baker, and even Vancouver.

Unfortunately the tower was closed, but I was still able to put my knowledge to use, answering the name of a town two nearby visitors were wondering about.

After soaking in all the sights, I reluctantly headed back to the port. Having checked off most of the items on my island bucket list, it was time for me to start journey back home.

I ducked into a cidery next to the ferry dock and struck up a conversation with the friendly bartender while waiting for my ferry to arrive. We got to talking about island life, and when I asked the question, "How do you afford to live here?" she shot back with a grin and said, "How could I afford not to?" I thought about it for a second and, looking back at the sights and feelings of the past couple of days, realized she was absolutely right.