Looking out across the Hood Canal, I found myself wondering once again why I have passed through this part of the country so often without actually settling here? Not for lack of interest ... might have something to do with thoughts about the winters that leave snow packs on all the mountains.
|View from Ginny and Steve's house|
To Blue, all our concerns must seem to be wasted effort. The important questions are clear, and he knows the answers. When there is water, jump in it (not flowing water, an important distinction). When the water is big enough for swimming, find a stick and bring it to the Boss. When she throws it, race out to capture it, carry it back huffing and chuffing, and bite it a bit just to teach it a lesson. Then take it to the Boss, lay it down, and shake the water off your coat. That seems to amuse her for some reason.
Oh, and when the Boss calls, drop everything and come a-running! Then shake your coat off once more for good measure.
North, and then west into the Olympic peninsula. No submarines headed out today, so the drawbridge to Port Angeles was available, the trip through the deep forest was easy, and I was among the first cars to queue up for the 9:30 ferry.
Why is the ferry experience so much less irritating to me than the airline's? Same long delays boarding the flight, certainly. The obsession with invading personal space in the name of security, though, is absent, as is the focus on jamming as many bodies as possible into physical restraints.
Time 11:10 pm PDT. Odometer 217918. Victoria, British Columbia.
The GPS took me out of town and down a dark highway to the Malahat RV Resort, where I set out my tent in the shadows of unoccupied RVs and slept untl 5:30.
Why exactly did I come here? Right, Nanaimo. Kayaks. Canada, eh?