Travel Log: Fact-Finding in the San Juan Islands

Day Five:

Good day, and welcome to day five.

Our island time has come to an end. We packed up our gear, and tried to make the hotel somewhat presentable, and my wife made the bed, because she insists on making the bed when she leaves a hotel. I, on the other hand, have never once in my life insisted on making the bed.

We tried to eat breakfast at the Friday Harbor Café, but it was closed, so we ate at the Blue Dolphin Café. I was happy to see that it was filled almost entirely with locals, but I was less pleased by the quality of the breakfast fare. The potatoes were pretty dry – both the hashbrowns and homestyle – and the fried egg was poached. They charged us for the refill on Holly’s milk, so her two cups ended up costing the same as a grocery-store gallon.

I stood in the rain and waited for the ferry, so that I could board as foot traffic instead of vehicle traffic. It was, by far, the most exciting thing I’ve ever done, and very much worth the twenty five minutes I spent in the freezing rain.

Amazingly, the weather dissuaded my Dad from spending the trip out on the bow. However, he still didn’t sit down the whole trip – he wandered and looked at things. I’m beginning to think he just doesn’t like playing cards (the standard Wells family ferry activity).

We made one last stop in Anacortes, because I wanted to take a couple pictures of the town. I swear, with the number of photos I took of the courthouse, sheriff’s office, fire station, and hospital, and the amount of time I spent snooping in alleys and taking notes, I’m surprised no one arrested me for plotting to blow up the town.

But then it was on to Seattle, the land of never-ending freeways. While escaping one interstate and searching for another, we found The Erotic Bakery. A sign hung in the window saying “Sorry, we’re open.” In the shop next door there was a sign reading: “Republicans for Voldemort”. We were, apparently, in the wrong part of town.

But, as I discovered, there’s no right part of town. All the pamphlets and guidebooks direct tourists to Pioneer Square, but when we visited we found nothing but litter and panhandlers. And then, when we got back to the car, we found a parking ticket – thirty-eight bucks for the privilege of watching seagulls choke on discarded trash, and vagrants sleep on park benches.

We proceeded to the Pike Place Market, which is a crazy building designed by first-year architecture students, who decided to each work on a separate hallway, and then see if they match up – all while blindfolded and smoking weed. Still, it’s quirks (like when my Dad and I found ourselves exiting the building and taking fire escape stairs up to the next level) are fun and endearing, and perfectly suited to the kinds of crazy stuff the vendors sell.

We got lunch at a Chinese place there – steamed pork buns – and ate while looking at the large cracks in the support beams. I had to find Erin something to drink, and ended up buying a bottle of Sprite in a café wherein the owner had chained himself to a column to protest his upcoming eviction. He was a round-faced Greek who looked like he’d be a lot of fun if he wasn’t being a civil disobedient.

Erin bought some figurines carved from the ashes of Mount St. Helens, and Holly made it out of there with a cheap knock-off version of Barbie, but it was a mermaid Barbie, and Holly said it was Ariel. And, as Erin would gladly tell you, I’m a pushover when it comes to Holly.

We left and went to the airport. I don’t know if we were just lucky, but the place was virtually empty. Planes still came and went, but it didn’t seem nearly as crowded as the Salt Lake or Denver airports.

And then we came home.

I took a 67 pictures today, which leaves us with a grand total of 418 (I think) – enough pictures to choke a seagull.

So it begs the question: was the trip worth it? Did it solve all of my Book 2 problems? I think so. The book has been coming along quite nicely this week, and we’ll just have to wait and see if I can actually finish it. I was thinking today, about how much fun book signings are, and how much I love it when my books get reviewed, and then I realized: if you want to do this again, you’d better write another book. Well, if all goes well, I’ll do just that.

Anyway, keep your eyes peeled. In the not-too-distant-future you’re bound to find Book 2, Wake Me When It’s Over: The Revenge!, and you can browse the pages looking for the places I’ve mentioned in the San Juan Islands. If I make some of the same jokes in the book that I’ve made in the blog, forgive me – a guy’s only got so much funny in him.





All material on this site is copyrighted by Robison E. Wells, 2004.