During summer, when every Seattleite and their visiting mother-in-law seems to embrace the great Northwest outdoors, you can often hear the day-trippers in the parking lots and on the trails before you even spot them.

The stampede of feet rattling along the gravel paths. The echoes of large groups chatting, and barking dogs drowning out the tranquility.

But rest assured, you will always have Hope Island.

That's because few tourists -- or locals, even -- have heard of this state marine park. Or they confuse it with the Hope Island by Deception Pass.

Nestled between Shelton and Olympia, this South Sound park remains one of the area's best-kept secrets, a poor man's San Juan Islands day trip and a favorite with many sea kayakers.

I saw more seals peek-a-booing around Hope Island in one afternoon than in all my trips to the San Juans. And I didn't hear motorboats. At least not hordes of them.

This park, a hot spot for bird-watching, clam digging and mushroom hunting, enjoys anonymity for several reasons. The once-private island didn't become public until 19 years ago, and it's accessible only by small boat.

I kayaked there recently on a sunny, shorts-and-T-shirt kind-of day, and it looked as deserted as ever.

It's about a two-hour trip to Hope Island from Seattle: an hour to the launching dock of Boston Harbor, north of downtown Olympia, and another hour to kayak to the island when the tides are out.

We glided effortlessly, not breaking a sweat, thanks to a generous tide that had us going 5 mph, according to the GPS.

Gerry Hodge, founder of the South Sound Area Kayakers Club, leaned back on his kayak, as if relaxing in a La-Z-Boy. "There's no one here because everybody goes to the San Juans," he said. "That's why it's never crowded."

Sure, we spotted three-story houses along the banks on our way, but the area seems like some forgotten coast. So few folks fishing. Hardly anyone frolicking in the sun.

Instead, we heard flocks of seagulls on both sides of the shores. We saw about a dozen harbor seals wallowing on the dock of Carlyon Beach, west of us.

It's not the next San Juans, of course. No five-star resorts in the South Sound. No stores selling T-shirts or trinkets. In fact, no vendors selling anything. The 106-acre Hope Island, sandwiched between a tiny, residential island and a reservation, remains mostly undeveloped.

But the tradeoff is the promise of tranquility.

As the tides pushed us closer to Hope Island, I could see part of the 1 1/2-mile stretch of pebble-and-sand shoreline, a hotbed for geoducks and clams in the spring.

Once ashore, we headed inland. A second-growth forest of towering cedars, Douglas fir and some surprising Pacific yews awaited, with bald eagles, woodpeckers and a dozen other species hovering above.

There are orchard trees near the shore. But the real bounty, a park ranger once told me, is found below, all across the island: chanterelles, oyster mushrooms and morels, a well-kept secret for seasoned mushroom hunters.

We hiked along the two-mile interpretive trail, a flat path manageable for children and seniors, with five exit points to the beach. On a clear day, you can see Mount Rainier from the south and east side of the island.

Because the island is so small and quiet, the movements and sounds of wildlife are more pronounced -- and familiar if you stay long enough. It's hard not to run into deer.

On our visit, the tide was low enough that we could have walked around the island along the beach, but we opted to circle Hope Island on kayaks, especially since the landscape is more sandy than rocky under the shallow water.

You can, of course, venture out on more challenging routes, navigating between the narrow inlets and little islands along the way.

Those less adventurous can launch from Arcadia Point Public Boat Ramp, north of Olympia, to Hope Island. You paddle in flat water and don't cross any major channels.

Our plan was to wait for the tide to turn at 3 p.m., then paddle past the nearby residential Steamboat Island and then along the shores of the reservation Squaxin Island on the way back to the harbor, an easy 10-mile round trip.

There are other places to explore offshore. But I was content to spend the remaining lazy afternoon in solitude along the beach. I think those seals lying in the sun earlier had it just right.