Spoiler: we got there on time.
But we’re so shell shocked from having missed our train that first day that we got to the ferry terminal an hour and 15 minutes early, having allocated one half hour to the downhill ride from Bamberton Provincial Park to Mill Bay Ferry Terminal. Being 100% downhill, it took us all of 5 minutes. Thus at 6:50 am, we set up a royal picnic of coffee and banana oatmeal on the tarmac. Needless to say, we were first in line.
A dapper Englishman, who we will call Randy, rolled up on his bicycle in full cold weather gear at 7:30. He had left Victoria at 3 o’clock that morning for a casual dawn ride. We would later learn that Randy is no stranger to extreme endurance tests on the bicycle. Nothing we could say would impress him.
We boarded the ferry at 8:05 and sat next to Randy in the passenger cabin. We learned that Randy will soon participate in a 100-hour, 1100 kilometer race from Edinburgh to London and back, called a randoneer. Steve liked the way Randy Randoneer leaned in when he spoke. Jackie liked his accent. He told us that a randoneer is as much a mental game as it is a physical test. We just nodded along, star struck. (Randy, if you’re reading this, we apologize about the name.)
From Brentwood Bay, we booked to Sidney on the other side of Saanich Peninsula. We made excellent time, again arriving an hour early for our next ferry, which would take us back to the United States. Along the way, we hit a strawberry stand and a coffee shop and a big BLT, right to the stomach.
The ferry ride was long (3 hours) and uneventful and by the time we disembarked in Anacortes on Fidalgo Island, we were feeling the effects of our 5 am wake up. Jackie was grumpy and gassy. Steve was smelly. We both desperately needed hot showers and fresh laundry. It was pouring. Morale was low.
Fast forward two hours. Jackie and Steve are sitting in the laundromat wearing rain gear and sandals and nothing else. All of our clothing was packed into one 20 L washing machine. We are humbled by the power of modern soap.
Two hours later we happily settled in around a roaring fire, Vanilla Oatmeal Stout in hand, bodies cleaned, bellies filled. As the rain drizzled around us, we hatched a plan to let Father’s Day be a recovery day. In the middle of the night, we woke to downpour. Our plan was sealed.
Grumpy and gassy. I resemble that remark. Keep up the blogging and photos – good job. I look forward to the stories of adventure each morning.
Well, I was going to make a grumpy, gassy and smelly comment but Mike beat me to it. Enjoying your posts as well Steve!