1 PM found us tied up to G19, dwarfed between 80 foot yachts. Seaplanes are docking perpendicular from our slip. It is amazing how much is going on and it works unbelievably well; a wedding occurring in the garden, passengers arriving or departing by seaplanes at a steady constant schedule, kayak rentals, boat and yachts moving in and out of the marina. Big scoops of ice cream on cones delicious on a warm summer day are enjoyed by everyone. Big breakfasts are served ‘til 11 and after that fish and chips at a small café at the end of the building housing the grocery store, showers, the post office and Laundromat. There is a constant ribbon of humanity weaving in and out of each doorway.
Families are here for a day or two to provision, cleanup and stretch their legs. Bikini-clad young women occupy many of the yachts, their skin deep shades of brown, manicured and looking good! Many walk or wiggle about their boat with glasses containing some fancy drink or champagne. The men on these boats, no matter the age seem to hold an air of authority, several wearing thick gold chains around their neck. They appear thoroughly enjoying the moment. There are several Ocean Alexanders sitting at the dock where we all pass. For a mere three million plus, you too can own one. Is anyone out there willing or rather able? I don’t know anyone. Perhaps if we collectively threw in our dollars, we might be able to offer a pittance. As I told Pat at dinner, recession does not appear to be taking a hold here at Roche Harbor.
Peace has now returned with one yacht leaving and the new passengers boarding the seaplane are at the other end of the dock. The full half of the glass is that looking out beyond the bow we have a look at Haro Strait. Perhaps after dinner we will observe another beautiful sunset. The day is perfect, t-shirts and shorts work well.
Dinner was good at the McMillan Restaurant overlooking the marina. We were doing our best to manage the last bites of apple pie a la mode when the flags were lowered with all the pomp and circumstance. Many of those in the restaurant exited in order to watch and hear it closer. It reminded me of the “Dirty Dancing” family camp nostalgia; rather hokey but yet the tradition had good intent.
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