When you live in the Pacific Northwest, there are more adventure opportunities than time available. My PNW bucket list is still long, even after 18 years of living here. So when I saw the REI Adventures post offering a three-day sea kayak expedition through the San Juan Islands, I broke out my calendar and blocked off some dates. My imagination instantly filled with visions of orcas—a sleek black dorsal fin surfacing just close enough to give me chills. Maybe a smaller fin alongside as a mama and her calf come up to breathe, or in the distance a heroic twisting breach of gleaming black-and-white. I craved a close encounter with an orca, a glimpse into the underwater world of wildness and power, all from the seat of my kayak. The species I actually had a close encounter with was very different.
This all-women expedition involved a dozen two-seater kayaks packed with tents, gear, dry bags, food bags, and a hefty supply of wine. About half the women came alone and half came in pairs of friends or mother-daughter combos. I paddled with my friend Lynnanne, and we fell into an easy paddling rhythm pretty easily. We launched from Roche Harbor on San Juan Island around to Stuart Island, and camped there for two nights. I learned to avoid the patches of long ropey kelp floating just below the surface. We’d snag a paddle on a tangle of plant-snakes known as bull kelp. But over the course of the weekend, I came to appreciate this unique aquatic forest.
Like so many living things in the Pacific Northwest, this species is supersized yet weirdly delicate. and it creates an integral thread in the ecosystem. Just as it catches paddlers in it’s web, it slows the waves crashing against the coastlines, and provides safe harbor for a multitude of fish. Bull kelp can survive wild PNW storms, but water warmer than 60 degrees causes massive die-offs. It’s technically an algae, but needs clean, clear sea water free of pesticide-laden runoff (unlike the freshwater algae that thrive in polluted lakes.)
Did I mention that the official name for bull kelp is Nereocystis, a rough translation for the Greek term for mermaid’s bladder?
Beyond the natural history, here are three practical uses we found for bull kelp while kayaking and camping around the San Juans:
1. Secure the beer!
Beverages chilling in that clean, clear sub-60 degree water don’t float away when tied securely to a nice long strand of kelp.
2. Dock mid-channel to watch the sunset.
When you find the perfect vantage point, wedging into a nice, thick kelp forest lets you relax in one spot and enjoy the show, without fighting the current.
3. Serve up a little PNW sushi.
Yes, it’s edible. After learning this fact, who can resist reaching in to pull up a little sample of kelp? I took a bite, fresh out of the water. Tasting notes: grassy notes highlighted with an umami fishiness, subtly salted with a surprising metallic tang. If I needed a survival food to avoid starvation, I’d be happy eating bull kelp. Pictured below is what we actually ate on this trip instead of kelp.
Want more info about exploring the San Juans and their mermaid bladder forests via kayak? I went with REI Adventures, for a guided 3-day trip out of Roche Harbor, and had a perfect introduction to the world of sea kayaking.