Boats and pirates
From now on, I’ll finish the phrase “You have to get up pretty early in the morning” by this: “to catch a boat”. We saw the sun rise, in the rear view mirror, as we crossed Souris before tracking south to Wood islands. And we arrived before the anchor weighed (I know, there isn’t an anchor per se. Bear with me).
An escort down to the loading ramp, a quick goodbye and I was on my own for the day. The dog and I headed over to the cliffside, to watch the boat depart, and then we hit the highway. My highway. The road was empty; that’s the rule for an early Sunday drive, I believe.
In town, I had to wait for my chosen breakfast place to unlock the door, but it didn’t matter. I had all day ahead of me. Ditto for the dogwalk in the park, although some people should learn how to unpark. Ditto for the bookstore visits, and the pause to test the quality of frozen yogurt.
For the record, the second time was as quality an experience as the first, It was now close enough to noon for a visit to the pan show, and I now own a nifty meat cleaver and a specialized carving knife; the pair for $31.
No reason to stay in town all day, so I acquired an eyepatch for my next role as a pirate, and then headed back to the campground to edit some reservations. A sandwich at the Pirates’ Galley, where I did NOT don my patch, and a short round of photo work on the land of my dreams. Some hours visiting a friend, followed by a serious serenade at the campground (not my musical choice, but I’m part of a captive audience).
