The first few days I was in Washington, we went on a camping trip up into the Gulf Islands in B.C. Our boat is an Albin, originally meant for nosing into fjords with families of lithe, blonde Swedes at the helm (it also came with the original 1970's-era manual), but she does a fair job tackling the Salish Sea as well.
The price of an incredible sunset from our campsite that evening was a steady downpour starting at about 3am, but the next morning the clouds slowly broke as we ate our fried potatoes. That day I finally set foot on Saturna Island, a hulk of land that I had spent 26 years gazing at from North Bay, off in the Canadian distance. We slept aboard the Tern that night, Dag and I bedded down in the aft cabin with our National Geographics. When I crept out a few hours later for a midnight bathroom break there were shimmering phosphorescence in the cold salt water all around us.
