Island Life: The Great Ferry Strike* (…that wasn’t?) (…but may yet be?)

*(with apologies to Spencer Ellsworth)

We knew there would be trade-offs involved when we decided to move from Portland, Oregon, to Orcas Island. We’d be leaving behind so many dear friends. There would be no more walking to Trader Joe’s five times a week, or riding our bikes to the gym; no more having hundreds of delicious and affordable restaurants to choose from, and dozens of movie theaters. No hospital, very few doctors; gas costs a dollar more a gallon than it does on the mainland–the list goes on.

In return, though, we got the splendid isolation, the beauty, the space and peace and quiet. We got small-town charm, made fascinating new friends (and host visiting friends-from-away), and get to live in a crazy big rambling house surrounded by nature–cedars and wild ducks and great blue herons and ferns and deer and owls and a million songbirds and tree frogs.

It was more than worth the inconveniences, we decided. We would plan ahead for occasional off-island days, to do our big-box-store (and Trader Joe’s) shopping and our medical appointments; we bought Life Flight insurance for emergencies. We learned how to make a lot more things ourselves, and we began ordering more stuff online. We enjoy the hour-long ferry ride–even now, when we are mostly confined to our cars, it’s a little piece of enforced down time in a busy life.

• 

I didn’t realize I’d lost my key to the Subaru until I was setting out to pick up my friend and co-author Karen at the ferry. Karen was coming up from Portland to spend a week writing in our guest room–an informal writing retreat. I usually drive my Miata, but I wanted to take the Subaru to get Karen, because a) it’s a more comfortable car for passengers, and b) since she was coming for a week, she had a Very Large Suitcase.

(I don’t know how familiar you are with Miatas, but they technically do have a trunk. You can fit a toothbrush in it, and maybe even a towel, if it’s not a large towel. A big suitcase? Forget it.)

Anyway, it was time to go get Karen and…no Subaru key. I ran around in a small frenzy and then just borrowed Mark’s, so as not to strand my friend at the dock.

It was a great writing retreat–we even finished a draft of our next collaborative book, and we had many wonderful conversations over many bottles of wine. In the fullness of time, Karen went back home. That dang key still hadn’t turned up. I searched the house again and again, and finally gave up and called the Subaru dealer. Guess what else Orcas Island doesn’t have? Car dealers! I know, usually that’s a plus, but in this case…

We made an appointment for a few weeks hence, got ferry reservations, and planned one of our periodic shopping days, to make the most of our time.

And then we began seeing the ferry notices: Late boats. Canceled sailings. Canceled boats. Sometimes for maintenance reasons (the fleet is aging, and not gracefully), but most often for lack of crew.

I know we’re having something of a, hmm how to put it, reckoning in the labor market these days–not just here, but nationwide. Many people who worked terrible, low-paying jobs before the pandemic hit have figured out how not to have to go back to them, have found better opportunities elsewhere. Employers who offer terrible, low-paying jobs are having a heck of a time filling those positions.

But the ferry system! It’s a sweet government job, right? Good pay, great benefits, job security, and interesting work. I mean, what could be more fun than riding the ferries all day. Right?

Well…sort of.

Turns out that new deckhand hires come in as on-call and probationary. It doesn’t say in this job listing how long that period lasts, but a friend who was exploring these jobs told me it’s a few years, at least, because it depends on the hours worked. And it’s not just on-call in the sense that you don’t know when you’ll be working, or for how many hours; you also don’t know where. You could be called to show up at Anacortes or Seattle or Gig Harbor or Port Townsend or Edmonds or… If you refuse too many job calls (“watches”), you’re dismissed. If you commit any infraction during this probationary period, you’re dismissed. And you’re generally only offered watches during the summer months while on probation–so good luck making a living elsewhere during the rest of the year.

And the pay? $23.01 an hour!

“The WSF system is an essential part of Washington’s transportation network, linking communities on both sides of Puget Sound with the San Juan Islands and internationally to Sidney, British Columbia.” That’s from the ferries’ own website, so I know they must be aware of the fact.

Ferries are essential, particularly to us islanders. You cannot get into a car and drive from your house to my house without driving your car onto a ferry (which currently costs $59.75, plus $14.50 for each passenger). The ferry system is our freeway–and our secondary roads, and our back roads. There really is no other option, not for bringing a vehicle back and forth. (And it’s really hard to do a big shopping run as a walk-on passenger…not to mention how would you even get to those big-box stores in the first place.)

Ferry fees go up every year, like clockwork, even as the fleet ages and the service suffers. None of this has seemed to discourage the tourists, though; Eastsound has been as crowded as I’ve ever seen it, these last few months.

As the Subaru dealer appointment approached, the situation seemed to be getting worse. In fact, we began hearing rumors of a ferry strike. At the same time, Mark’s mom, who lives in Anacortes, needed some help getting some financial stuff sorted out–the type of help much more easily accomplished in person.

So we made a second set of ferry reservations–for the day before the rumored strike–so Mark could go help his mom and do some more urgent shopping. If we ended up stranded here, my new Subaru key could wait.

He made that trip fine, and there was no strike.

Then we went off-island for our Subaru appointment, and there was no strike. (Don’t ask me how much it costs to get a new electronic key though!) Things seemed to be settling down.

And then…suddenly, a boat was taken out of service for half a day last week. Oh and then the first half of the next day. Oh and then a second boat was canceled for the whole day. And then for this whole last weekend, no new reservations were allowed, because we were two boats down. I’m seeing an upsurge online of people trying to sell reservations (which are free to make) (when you can make them, anyway), and other people giving them hell for this.

We only have four boats serving the whole Anacortes-San Juan Islands complex of routes. So losing two of them is pretty noticeable.

The strike rumors have amped up again, too: now we are hearing that it’s about the state’s vaccine mandate, which goes into effect October 18.

So I’m glad we got that bit of business done, before “we live here now.”

I’m still not sorry we moved here. I still feel incredibly lucky to live in this magical place, where frogs visit my window every night, and the only neighbor noise we hear is mooing cows. I love the fresh air and the peace and the hooting owls and the dark night sky and the weird funky island culture.

But I do wish our “freeway” system wasn’t so darn fragile.