Thursday, September 12 (the final chapter)
The ferryboat returning us to Kingston is called the Spokane. Before walking up the ramp, the crew and I stop at the ticket booth to pay the fare of $7.70 for one adult walk-on passenger.
(I’m a month short from the senior discount fare of $3.85 for 65-and-older. What a deal!)
Instead of tackling another set of steep, metal stairs, I steer the crew over to a small elevator. A clutch of people wait for the doors to open. When they fill up the elevator and a lady holds the door for us, I smile and say, “Thank you. Go ahead. We’ll wait.”
Spike and Bridget watch the doors come together. A few minutes later they open again. Now the crew knows what to do having seen what the people did. They move right in.
Spike is serious and thoughtful about the procedure. Bridget acts silly.
“Your first elevator ride! Isn’t this exciting!”
The doors open and I lead us out and over to the railing so I can watch our departure from Edmonds.
Several sights and sounds come together as if composed for dramatic effect.
The ramp folds up, the engine rumbles, and white water churns below. On land a city bus rounds a corner and climbs an Edmond street. People stroll the beach.
Gulls screech and reel and the Spokane sounds her horn, followed by a train’s warning . . . two longs, a short, and a long.
A misty breeze blows my hair about my face. I breathe in the smell of the sea.
Exhilarating!
Once underway the three of us stroll the deck. Not many people on the return trip either.
The Spokane moves much faster than the Puyallap did, now that the fog isn’t as heavy. A couple with a little girl and a babe-in-arms are nearby. I offer to take a family photo which I do with their iPhone.
Suspecting Spike could use another rest, I take a bench seat. The crew lies down underneath and, sure enough, Spike dozes off.
When we approach the Kingston dock, the announcer comes over the loudspeaker with the usual instructions.
What happens next makes me laugh whenever I think of it.
Spike emerges from under the bench and looks at Bridget and me as if “Okay, you heard him. It’s time to go.” I grab the leashes and Spike leads us to the center of the boat, walking straight to the elevator doors!
He stands motionless and stares at the seam of the elevator doors, like an impatient commuter. The only things missing are his briefcase and blackberry. He waits, fixated on the doors. They separate and he confidently steps into the empty elevator with Bridget and me following.
I burst out laughing.
“Spike, you’ve got this all figured out, don’t you!” He turns and faces the doors from the inside, fixing his gaze on the seam and waiting intently for them to open again. This dog is hilarious! Too bad he can’t reach the buttons with the arrows on them. I laugh my way out of the elevator.
As I’ve mentioned, pets are not allowed in the interior areas.
However, it’s okay to walk through, such as when disembarking. Bridget and Spike march right along with no stopping or sniffing or other such canine nonsense. They know how to act on a ferry! It’s time to walk to the ramp!
I’m extremely proud of my crew today.
Several people during both rides, across to Edmonds and back to Kingston, comment what nice dogs they are, they’re so well-behaved, etc.
Unfortunately I ate a dang chicken sandwich at a Dairy Queen on the way out of Poulsbo before our ferry rides. It filled me up so I’m not hungry for the crepes being sold at a cafe near the terminal.
We walk on by, cross the street, and cut over to the public parking lot.
First thing, I open up the side door and put the crew’s water dish on the pavement. Boy, are they thirsty! They slurp it up and hop into the PTV.
“Wasn’t that fun, guys? What a day!” I exclaim as I drive us out of the lot. “What a day,” I repeat to myself, taking a last look at the ferryboat.
Once over the Hood Canal floating bridge at Port Gamble, I remember the town of Chimacum.
Hmm . . . a short detour and we could go back to the Chimacum Corner Farmstead and pick up some more of those luscious pears and peaches. They have some organic doggie snacks in that jar by the cash register. The crew deserves a treat.
Gee, while we’re there . . . might as well shoot over to the Chimacum Cafe and get a big slice of wild blackberry pie to go.
rvsue
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