Under the cover of darkness, our small pod of explorers expanded into the waters of Griffin Bay in search of glow-in-the-dark marine life. Home to noctiluca scintillans, or “sea sparkles,” the waters of the Salish Sea around San Juan Island were named in Lonely Planet’s 2024 list of best places for bioluminescent viewing in the world. My tour group included a vacationing couple, plus a mother and son pair who’d traveled from Northern California to experience the phenomenon of glowing sea creatures. I was joined by my friend Jenn, who’d lived on the island for 18 years, but never taken a nighttime kayaking tour. 

Right after sunset, we shuttled from downtown Friday Harbor to Jackson Beach, a long sandy shoreline covered in driftwood. Though our guide, Brandon, was a newcomer to guiding on San Juan, he’d spent many seasons working in adventure travel throughout the Pacific Northwest, leading whitewater rafting trips and working ski patrol. 

On the beach, we snapped photos with our traveling companions before putting our camera phones away, knowing the night-time conditions would foil any good picture-taking. We suited up in thick, heavy layers of protective gear and formed a small circle facing one another. With our paddles standing at rest next to us, Brandon provided us with instruction in basic paddling techniques while reminding us to be mindful of the explorer directly next to us to avoid bashing one another and causing “some’r teeth”—some teeth on the ground, some teeth broken in the mouth.

After a short orientation, we climbed into two-person kayaks and launched into the silent dark waters, our guide made visible only by a red blinking light attached to his safety vest. We paddled for what felt like twenty or thirty minutes, towards the shores of Dinner Island, a small private island inside Griffin Bay. Still new to paddling, there were moments when I felt like my kayak would never catch up to our guide. His red light receded into the distance and disappeared entirely at times, only to re-emerge again. We lagged behind the other boats, with Jethro, our second guide, following closely behind. By the time we arrived at our destination, I felt ready to shed my knitted hat and a few layers of clothing.

At Dinner Island, the group floated at rest in the cove. We had undertaken a long journey by sea, and my senses felt opened up by the accidental splash of saltwater on my face and the dull ache in my arms. It felt like the perfect moment for an educational talk. Brandon lectured the group on the natural history of the single-celled dinoflagellates that produce light when the waters around them are disturbed. As if on cue, Jethro plunged one end of his paddle into the water and dragged it away from him, the sea coming alive with tiny lights. 

I skimmed my fingertips along the surface to activate the tiny sparkling organisms, their liveliness evoking a scene out of Walt Disney’s Fantasia. The sea sparkles resembled both starlight and blinking fireflies, moving pinpricks of light with their own life and organic movement. But my private meditation was interrupted by a glowing jellyfish. Jethro had grabbed the creature with a bare hand and tossed it several feet into the air so that we could see the strange, glowing arc of its shapeless body moving through air and space.

As a first-time paddler, I’d felt anxious about making the journey and gone as far as renting a kayak on Lake Washington the weekend before to get the feel of paddling in my body. By the light of day, it had felt overwhelming—the pier I could crash into, the space between water and dry land. But here at night, it was too dark to see other paddlers and felt impossible to judge the distance between boat and beach. Resting in the magical beauty of all that I had set out to see, I sank into the repetition of breath and body that powered the way back to shore.

Bioluminescence kayak tours on San Juan Island can be booked through Outdoor Odysseys, Discovery Sea Kayaks, and Sea Quest.