Getting into San Juan time

There is something comforting about an island that does not feel like one — much better than a peninsula where you inevitably come to the realization, "There is only one way out."

San Juan Island is big enough and the journey just long enough, aboard the best ferry ride in the system, that it never feels claustrophobic. When you dock, there's that one-two cadence of the cars exiting over the landing's apron into downtown Friday Harbor. You've arrived.

Fresh off the boat, where there only are vending machines, you'll need to find a place where they understand the language of a complicated caffeine order, even if only for a cup of fresh brew.

"Tall drip, with room, to go. Dark roast, please."

"I may have to write all that down," says the server with a twist of sarcasm.

Clearly, the mind has not yet adjusted to San Juan Slack-Season Standard Time.

Unlike the mainland cities where every on-ramp has an unfortunate with a cardboard sign, Friday Harbor has one man, David Bayley, holding a well-printed image of a grand piano, cursive script, and it says, San Juan Island Ragtime Festival.

He is looking for students who've come for a week of Scott Joplin.

Travelers need now to head for the old bank building, currently a realty office, to get a free map and advice. And to check out the display of available island housing. You may be able to afford that Leschi home after all. Here, a well-sited double-wide is going for around $170,000.

The sales associate asks if I'm on foot or riding a bike.

Neither, but it's good to look like you're about to camp.

If there is a Mr. San Juan Island, it's 84-year-old columnist Howard Schoenberger, author of the "Ferry Home Companion." Schoenberger writes at an expansive old roll-top desk given to him by one of the 12 publishers he's worked for in his career — and outlasted.

He's written more than 2,000 columns for the Journal of the San Juan Islands newspaper since he moved up from Palo Alto a generation ago after seeing orcas in the Strait.

He'd just returned from a Lions Club luncheon. His club button says "retired," but he's far from it.

"Whales and the ferries and eagles most define (the island)," he says. And, of course, so does he.

Everyone is friendly. Maybe it's off-season friendly.

There is time to talk. Do you know so-and-so? How can it be in the space of two days that there are so many cross-references, so many overlaps of who-knows-whom?

There is a great circle drive around the island where you'll see canopies of trees, wide-open, windy beaches, goat farms, cows, sheep and plenty of espresso venues.

There is a small theater offering two first-run movies. There are expensive restaurants — and many that shouldn't be.

But, most of all there is a pace.

So, turn off your cellphone; you'll only be tensed by the one-bar-signal. Bring binoculars in case there are any orcas in Haro Strait.

Visit American Camp and British Camp, where the only casualty of the almost-war was a large pig. Have a picnic at Cattle Point and lunch at Roche Harbor.

Browse the used bookstore near the ferry and the art gallery for native work from the Far North.

And put away the boat schedule. Take a deep breath. Set your clock to San Juan Time.

As islanders say, "There's always another ferry."

Alan Berner: aberner@seattletimes.com