Circumnavigating Mercer Island by Kayak (June 1, 2025)
There are some mornings that feel like a whisper before the day begins, a kind of hush that blankets the world in clarity. On June 1, 2025, I found one of those mornings as I slid my kayak into the glassy waters of Lake Washington from Newcastle Beach Park.
It was 6:45 a.m., and the lake was still asleep, a mirror of soft silver under the early light. I wasnโt chasing speed or distance. I was chasing calm, hoping to complete a full circumnavigation of Mercer Island before the wind stirred the lake into its usual midday rhythm.
I chose to paddle counterclockwise, first heading north beneath the I-90 bridge. The towering concrete spans above felt both monumental and silent, like guardians of the passage between two halves of a city. As I rounded the northeastern edge of the island, Seattle and Bellevue slowly emerged through the morning haze. Their skylines glowed softly, not yet sharp or hurried, like they, too, were waiting to fully wake.
Gliding west beneath the western I-90 span, I found myself among waterfront homes that could have been lifted from the pages of an architecture magazine. Clean lines, glass walls, decks stretching over the water, each home seemed to mirror the serenity of the lake. I imagined what it must be like to wake up to this every day: the light shifting across the surface, the stillness holding the noise of the world at bay.
The stretch south toward Seward Park was long and meditative. My strokes fell into rhythm with the soft lap of water against the hull, and I kept my energy steady with a couple of protein bars and sips of cold water. Closer to shore, the land came alive with movement. Runners darted along the wooded paths of Seward Park, their footfalls muffled by pine needles and shaded by dense canopies of green. Their energy was contagious, adding a pulse to the calm.
After rounding the parkโs edge, I made the diagonal crossing toward the southern tip of Mercer Island. This leg was different, quieter, more intimate. It felt like drifting through a secret gallery of lake life. Elegant homes perched on the hillsides. Wooden docks stretched like fingers into the water, some with canoes or paddleboards resting patiently. A few seaplanes, sleek and proud, were docked beside private landings like luxury cars waiting to take flight.
Then came the home stretch. When the Boeing facility came into view, its presence large and unmistakable, I knew I was nearly there. But so, too, was the wind. The lake, which had offered me its stillness for the better part of the morning, began to ripple with resistance. A light chop formed, small but persistent, and I had to dig in, each paddle stroke now an act of focus and resolve.
Passing the Seahawks training facility felt like a quiet nod from the city, one more landmark in a loop of natural and human achievement. And then, finally, Newcastle Beach Park appeared again on the horizon. The winds had woken. So had the city. But I was already back.
One of the most unexpectedly beautiful parts of the journey was the presence of birds, dozens of them, each offering a brief window into the life of the lake. Just past the bridge, I caught sight of a bald eagle gliding low over the water before diving, talons outstretched, to snatch a fish from the surface. Mallards drifted along the shoreline, their emerald heads glinting in the sun. A Canada Goose flapped noisily from one dock to another, honking as if to declare territorial dominance over an invisible line on the water. Near the southern tip, I slowed almost to a drift to watch a Great Blue Heron standing motionless in the shallows.
Near Seward Park a Cooperโs Hawk soared overhead, weaving between the trees with a grace that suggested it knew the terrain intimately. It was easy to forget the scale of this natural world existed so close to urban sprawl, and yet here they all were, raptors and waterfowl, predators and grazers, living quietly beside the homes, the runners, and the rising rhythm of the day.
What makes paddling Lake Washington so compelling, beyond its natural beauty, is how the lake itself acts as a kind of liquid corridor through a string of distinct cities, each with its own identity, history, and rhythm. Lake Washington is the second-largest natural lake in the state, stretching about 22 miles from north to south and covering over 33 square miles. And yet, for all its size, it feels surprisingly intimate from the surface of a kayak. Youโre never far from a shoreline, a dock, a new view, or a quiet pocket of reflection.
Along its western edge lies Seattle, with its iconic skyline and waterfront neighborhoods like Madison Park and Leschi, where charming docks and lush greenbelts frame the cityโs more urban energy. On the eastern shore sits Bellevue, a sleek and fast-growing city that balances tech-fueled ambition with some of the regionโs most beautiful waterfront homes. Further south, Renton hugs the lake near the mouth of the Cedar River and the Boeing plant, offering a more industrial character offset by the parklands that buffer the city from the water.
Just to the north, the cities of Kirkland and Kenmore provide more laid-back vibes, Kirkland with its walkable downtown and public beaches, and Kenmore as the quiet northern gateway between Lake Washington and Lake Sammamish. Sandwiched in the center is Mercer Island itself, a peaceful residential enclave that somehow feels both remote and centrally connected, thanks to the twin spans of I-90 that tie it into the fabric of the region.
Paddling around Mercer Island offers a kind of microcosm of the whole lake, but zoom out just a bit, and itโs easy to imagine a full multi-city journey by watercraft or bike. With enough time and intention, you could craft an itinerary that stops in multiple cities, breakfast in Kirkland, a long paddle down to Renton, sunset in Leschi. Each city reveals a different face of the lake, and each stretch of shoreline tells a different story, shaped by culture, industry, nature, and time.
It wasnโt just a loop around Mercer Island, it was a moment carved out of the noise, a simple act of motion turned into meditation. Before the world had stirred, I had circled something whole, and in doing so, found a stillness that stayed with me long after the kayak touched land.
Some Details:
Kayak: Ocean Kayak Malibu Two
Distance: ~13.5 Nautical Miles/ 15.5 Miles
Time: 5hrs (relaxed pace)