Moran State Park Part 2

Everything was packed so we headed into the gold Ford Focus and focused it right towards the Anacortes ferry terminal at top allowable government dictated speed. Why is it called Anacortes? Sounds like Ana Cortes which sounds Spanish like San Juan Islands or Strait of Juan De Fuca so let's say that is accurate and not bother looking it up.

We reached the ferry terminal and the ticket lady said five of the most ominous words in the English language, "Do you have a reservation?" "Of course we do not have a reservation" we replied. "You can probably make it" she said and charged us for a ticket after we assured her we weren't smuggling anyone in the trunk. We boarded the vessel Hyak after a few anxious minutes and headed to the top level to make sure the captain had everything under control. He looked nervous. After assuring the Captain the crew had confidence in him he regained his composure and said he'd do his best not to rock the boat. Satisfied, we headed starboard side to admire the view of the magnificent San Juans.

The grey clouds hovered over us like a micro manager in a tiny coffee shop. What was the weather doing? We looked to the oldest nautical forecasting instrument in the history of man. No not a barometer. Nor a weather vane. More accurate than that. The most reliable instrument of all. A thick sea beard.

Bradley's beard was listing south and slightly east which everyone knows means smooth sailing. Thank Poseidon it wasn't south west or ye might never hear this tale be told. After this news of good fortune we relaxed to chew the fat and drink coffee. The voyage would be a success, as long as we could safely avoid the one remaining threat to crew and passenger. The great black and white sea beast. A creature so ruthless. So murderous and with such a cold heart the natives would barely whisper it's name....Orca.

To be continued...