Hand over small hand, Porter clenched tight to the tail of the main halyard as I grinded the winch. When we were done, he scurried over, straddled the coaming and gave it his all to raise the sail just a bit more — in his mind at least. There was a little breeze on the water and I hoped it would pick up so we could enjoy a nice reach across Rosario Strait to our anchorage at Spencer’s Spit State Park. It didn’t. But the sun was shinning and mighty Mt. Baker watched us from astern as we made way under power towards Thatcher Pass between Decatur and Blakely Islands.

About an hour later and right in the middle of the pass, I heard the unmistakable sound of orcas spouting. Glancing ahead to port I caught sight of turbulent water and, with trees as a backdrop, the residual mist from their massive exhales. Moments later three tall, black dorsal fins broke the surface of the water again and we ended up slowly trailing them for about 30 minutes before turning into the anchorage.

Jutting out from the eastern shore of Lopez Island, Spencer’s Spit is just that, a spit of sandy beach that nearly connects to Frost Island. We had a surplus of firewood to burn and Jill had procured the makings for special s’mores, so we loaded up Spirit Bear (our kayak), headed to shore and spent what seemed like a spring evening exploring the Spit and its beaches.

As the sun moved ever westward, I got the fire going and Jill revealed the secret ingredient: instead of making our s’mores with just chocolate, we’d be using peanut butter cups. From there the evening went from great to, well … peanut butter cup s’mores have to be tried to be fully appreciated. And I’m not sure the crew of Yahtzee can ever go back to just Hershey bars. Yum.