Not ones to be left in ferry dust, we made a sprightly egress on the coattails of dawn, careening into the port’s bicycle staging area like a bunch of townies in souped up hot rods, with mere minutes to spare.
Breakfasting within the walls of the M.S. Chelan, we disembarked to begin our ride. And boy was it a good one. Smoother than a Bolivian salt flat. Flatter than day old La Croix, it was as if we were coasting along the banks of the Zuiderzee. A couple hills, gentle like Hank and Bobby, reminded us this was not an Epcot attraction, and a bridge gave us a new piece of urban architecture to navigate, but most of today was sunny, gleaming coastal bliss.
Call us Heidi Klum, because we saw seals, a team of six plus one, probably on their way to deliver a concentrated dose of patriotism to some big fish. We had the light bulb idea to stop in the tiny town of Edison, not exactly reinventing the wheel in terms of ice cream offerings, but definitely a regional leader in bespoke cabinetry.
We made such good time that Brett whipped up a nourishing hot ramen for lunch by the water, helping us cruise into Larrabee State Park with hours of sun to spare. We cleared out the $1 ice cream sandwiches, though they were thrice replenished, and settled in for a remarkable matzah ball soup and veggie stir fry, championed by Charlotte and Simon. They really threaded the knaidel, placing the final stitch in a colorful day which will one day be spun as yarn for eager ears. One more camp day til Canada. Our home and native land has been sweeter than maple sugar thus far.
