Saturday September 20,2014 Quality Inn Room 126 Mt Vernon, Washington
Up late today—slept like logs but still made the 1155am ferry to San Juan Island. An exhilarating hour ride—I stayed out on deck the whole time with my hair blowing wildly in the wind. I may never be able to get a comb or brush through it again! We arrived in Friday Harbor with all its gift shops and restaurants and immediately made a bee-line to the countryside.
One of our first stops was the alpaca farm where we made a couple of purchases of soft, soft items made from baby alpaca wool. In chatting with the man who owns the farm I learned much about these beautiful, soft looking creatures. They almost look like stuffed animals. It seems they are segregated in the fields—males in one pasture, females in the other. When the progesterone level is just right, he said, those girls just roll over and submit. It is easy to increase the herd’s size although the gestation period is 11-12 months and only one infant is born. Twins happen, but rarely. They cannot be artificially inseminated since ovulation only takes place with sexual activity. Also the female will not give birth at night. How they manage to hold off labor and delivery is a mystery. They are aloof , although curious. As cuddly as they look, they are not particularly affectionate—not nasty, just disinterested.
We continued our meanderings and stopped at the lavender farm, where I purchased a cup of vanilla, chocolate chip, lavender ice cream. Very yummy!
We went to the two National Parks but they weren’t very much and we didn’t get stamps in our passports. We arrived at 1pm and the five hours we were on the island just flew. When we got to the ferry dock for the 630 return trip the young man who was directing cars to the proper lanes for boarding asked if we were really from New York or if our car was a rental. We said no, we’re from Vermont and New York. He said he was too, from Flushing, Queens. Asked what brought him here, he said the commute was a bitch. I said, oh, isn’t that big orange plane with the Q on the tail yours? Oh, yeah, my name is Quentin—last name Tarantino! Wonder if QT really flies to San Juan.
As they started to board us about a half hour later, he ran up to the car, said just wanted to say good-bye , wish you a safe trip and tell you if you ever get to Long Island, take the LIE to exit 5 and go to the Bagel Haven. It is where I used to work, my name is Greg!
Off we went back to the mainland and on board got talking to an Indian—Asian Indian—who used to live in Hackensack, NJ. He’s lived here since 1996—misses NYC pizza, real Irish pubs that aren’t hoity-toity and the Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center. He agreed with me, that the ride through the islands reminded me much of Lake George. And then, with the summer haze almost obscuring Mt Baker, in the fading pinkish light of sunset, we arrived back in Anacortes and made the drive back to the motel, in time to watch the last of the Roosevelt saga.
Now, Cookie Kathy must prepare our tuna sandwiches for dinner. And so good night from Exhausted but Elated and Exhilarated Sisters, Kathy and Barb
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