After Archie McPhee we drove over to the Bainbridge Island ferry. There, we lined up behind dozens of cars to board. I think the last time I went on a ferry in a car was over 30 years ago, so it was quite a treat for all involved. It's a strange idea to me to be able to take your land vehicle across the water. Stranger still were the police K-9 units sniffing about the ferry parking lot. I mean, seriously, is the Bainbridge Island ferry or any of its passengers significant to national security? What do I know.
Anyway, we drove onto the ferry, parked, got out, and went upstairs, where Zorah proceeded to blow bubbles on the deck. She had brought them in a special little bag just for that purpose.
Then she and Brian chased each other around the top deck.
We didn't really have any idea of where to go once we got off the ferry, but our waitress at lunch told us if we drove down to a certain road, we would find the beach. You would be surprised at how difficult it can be to find the beach on an island only five miles wide and ten miles long. They try to conceal it with winding suburban roads and beach clubs. We triumphed after about an hour, finding the beach and dock where the high school kids like to hang out after school. how do I know? Because they were all beginning to flock there shortly after we arrived.
Zorah played on the beach for a minute or so, until she heard that the teenagers were jumping off the end of the dock. Not the one pictured above, which was a modest and very six-year-old-friendly two or three feet from the water, but the one below, which was a very sixteen-year-old friendly 10 or 12 feet up.
As Zorah was running down the dock with her towel, she saw two girls in front of her, blocking the way as they slowly strolled to the end. "Excuse me, ladies!" she shouted as she ran by. The girls parted and turned around in surprise as Zorah ran between them.
It took a little while for them to coordinate it, but after about half an hour of Brian gathering up the nerve to jump in to the still icy waters, they did it.
We didn't really have any idea of where to go once we got off the ferry, but our waitress at lunch told us if we drove down to a certain road, we would find the beach. You would be surprised at how difficult it can be to find the beach on an island only five miles wide and ten miles long. They try to conceal it with winding suburban roads and beach clubs. We triumphed after about an hour, finding the beach and dock where the high school kids like to hang out after school. how do I know? Because they were all beginning to flock there shortly after we arrived.
Zorah played on the beach for a minute or so, until she heard that the teenagers were jumping off the end of the dock. Not the one pictured above, which was a modest and very six-year-old-friendly two or three feet from the water, but the one below, which was a very sixteen-year-old friendly 10 or 12 feet up.
As Zorah was running down the dock with her towel, she saw two girls in front of her, blocking the way as they slowly strolled to the end. "Excuse me, ladies!" she shouted as she ran by. The girls parted and turned around in surprise as Zorah ran between them.
It took a little while for them to coordinate it, but after about half an hour of Brian gathering up the nerve to jump in to the still icy waters, they did it.
I was glad Brian was there to jump in with her. I don't think I would have. Being a parent you expect to make certain sacrifices for your children, but plunging into near-Arctic waters just isn't one I'm prepared to make.
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