ÿþ<html> <head> <title>Robison Wells</title> <body> <body background="/images/blog/blog background.gif"> <table class="home_table" cellspacing="18"> <tr> <td valign="top" colspan="2" align="center"><img src="/images/blog/blog header.gif"></td></tr> <tr> <td width="300" valign="top"> <table cellspacing="0"> <tr><td><a href="/"><img border="0" src="/images/blog/home.gif"></a></td> </tr> <tr><td><a href="/books.php"><img border="0" src="/images/blog/books.gif"></a></td></tr><tr><td><a href="/articles.php"><img border="0" src="/images/blog/articles.gif"></a></td></tr><tr><td><a href="/questions.php"><img border="0" src="/images/blog/questions.gif"></a></td></tr><tr><td><a href="/about.php"><img border="0"src="/images/blog/about.gif"></a></td></tr> <tr><td><a href="/links.php"><img border="0" src="/images/blog/links.gif"></a></td></tr> <table cellspacing="10"><table cellpadding="10"> <tr><td><img src="/images/sji/maus1.gif"></td></tr> <tr><td><img src="/images/sji/kiln.gif"></td></tr> <tr><td><img src="/images/sji/british garden.gif"></td></tr> <tr> </tr> <tr><td colspan="2"><br><br><br><br></td></tr> </table> </td> <td width="700" valign="top"> <div id="desc"> <br> <br> <br> </body> </html> <b><big><u>Travel Log: Fact-Finding in the San Juan Islands</u></big></b><bR><bR> <b><big>Day Three:</big></b><bR><bR> <dd> We woke at the crack of Holly, who is more reliable than any alarm clock. If you re anywhere near her and your eyes are closed, she ll yell  wake up, the sun is shining! She also hits you, because that s how she tickles. And she likes to wake up at 6:30am.<bR><bR> <dd> So we ate breakfast, and headed out for the day. The first stop on the schedule was Roche Harbor, which is on the northwest side of the island. (I had to check a map just now, because I am constantly getting confused. I m used to having mountains nearby, and can t find my way around without a landmark.) Roche Harbor, pronounced  rMsh by tourists and  roach by locals, is basically a marina and resort, with no other town-like qualities. There are houses here and there, tucked back into the woods, but they re not part of an actual town.<bR><bR> <dd> We first went to the Hotel De Haro, a place which is very old and authentic, by which I mean it probably ought to get condemned. Looking up the stairs, you can see that the building isn t terribly straight, but it s not till you walk down the second floor hall that you realize how screwy it is: there s a six-inch bump in the hall  the kind of thing you get in the sidewalk when tree roots make the cement buckle. Since it s the second floor, I have no idea what s made the hallway bulge, but I m sure it can t be good. In the rooms, the door frames have tilted so much that they ve had to re-plane the doors to make them fit.<br><bR> <dd> After the Hotel, we walked to the Mausoleum, where some rich guy (I have his name written down someplace, but I m too lazy to look it up) built a weird Masonic-symbol-filled ring of pillars. His ashes, if I remember correctly, are inside a table in the center, and his children s ashes are in the various chairs. It s slightly spooky and weird, and Holly immediately ran up to the table, plopped herself in one of the chairs (which you re not supposed to do, it being a grave and all), and said  Somebody bring me dinner! This is why we rarely take her out in public.<br><bR> <dd> You can see her in <a href="images/sji/maus3.jpg">this picture</a>. Note that she is a Noble of the Mystic Shrine, a Knight Templar, a 32nd Degree Mason, an Elk, a Methodist, and a Republican. Dan Brown would have a field day.<bR><bR> <dd> We ate lunch in the Lime Creek Café. I ordered Prawns and Chips  the latter turned out to be french fries, and the former turned out to be very tasty. I had vacillated between the prawns and the fried oysters, so the waitress brought me a couple of oysters, and I was reminded how foul-looking the little things are. I didn t taste them  I actually have an allergy to shellfish. Why was I considering eating oysters if I m allergic? That was the question everyone else was asking, too.<bR><bR> <dD> Holly fell off the café bench, and hit her head and cried. She likes to wiggle, you see.<br><bR> <dd> We wandered out to the end of the piers, and commented on the various boat names. (There s a boat in Book 2, and I need a name for it.) Most were boring, like <i>Meander</i> or <i>Lady Jane</i> or <i>After Hours</i>. There was a sailboat called the <i>Yachta Yachta</i>, though, which is cool.<bR><br> <dd> Our next stop was British Camp, which plays an integral role in the history of San Juan Island. The brief story: the islands were disputed territory in the mid-1800s, between Canada (British at the time) and America. 10,000 Royal Marines were stationed on the island, but many Americans had settled and farmed. One day, a British pig (a real pig  I m not just calling the Limeys names) wandered into an American s garden, and the American, showing the kind of go-getter attitude that made our nation what it is, shot the British pig. International incidents ensued and the Americans sent 10,000 of their own troops, and they all sat on the island for 13 years, not fighting. Finally, the Kaiser of Germany (because politics was weird back then) decided that the islands belonged to the Americans. All was well, and the only casualty of the infamous Pig War was the title character.<bR><bR> <dd> British Camp was very muddy, and the beach was covered in yucky, slimy stuff, so Holly couldn t go down and throw rocks into the water. But they had a British garden, and she ran around there, and had a grand time.<bR><br> <dd> Then we went home, and Holly took a nap (as did everyone else, since my wife is pregnant and my parents are, well, old). I took the opportunity to wander Friday Harbor and take pictures of everything. If you want a picture of any building in the city limits, just let me know and I ll hook you up. The courthouse? Got it. Carquest Auto Parts? Yep. Some guy s house? Check. The weird rock garden at the Lutheran Church? Ten-four.<br><bR> <dd> We also stopped at the local branch building and, as luck would have it, the Branch President was there. He was incredibly helpful, and let me take pictures of the inside of the building, and told me about how everything was organized, and the quirks of LDS island life.<br><bR> <dd> And then I spent the rest of the night writing, and I m very pleased with the results.<bR><br> <dd> Big picture day, by the way: 93 in the morning, and another 63 in the afternoon, for a day s total of 156, and a grand total of 290. Only ten more needed to hit the goal, and I still have two days left.<bR><bR> <br><br><br><br><u><small>All material on this site is copyrighted by Robison E. Wells, 2004.</small></u> </td> </tr> </table> <script src="http://www.google-analytics.com/urchin.js" type="text/javascript"> </script> <script type="text/javascript"> _uacct = "UA-668697-1"; urchinTracker(); </script> </body> </html>