Received word that Consulate X in New York issued my visa and sent my passport the day after my flight would have left. Harrumph!
The morning began with touring a farm. The very farm that sustains the people that were doing spring cleaning at the restaurant last weekend. It's a big farm with all the essentials - Joshua at the top, goat kids about to come forth, and happy human kids rambling about. I discover their wood-fired outdoor wooden hot tub and ask lots of questions. We say good-bye, and they pack me two yerba maté bars for the road.
I continue onwards, and the car is propelled not (only) by fuel but by car tunes of course. My thumb dances on top of the steering wheel, in tact with the beat. I stop for lunch in 'Amity Harbor, The Strawberry Capital of the San Juan Islands.' I have a nice veggie focaccia at 'Pacific Grill' and imagine the ocean breeze still some 600 km away.
Drove through a thicket of rosy strip malls before I got into this town where I stay the night. The setting is spectacular, but the town itself exhibits both too little town planning and not enough randomness. Went for a walk this balmy evening on the Kettle Valley Trail, which showcases the extraordinary landscape. Lots of after-work joggers and cyclists trot past, and 'sandy beige' is a beautiful colour in its natural state, enhanced by sunset light.
As I approach the part with the cemetery on one side, I see a man with a green plastic bag looking up. Of course. I ask him about a bird on the fence. 'Gambel's Quail' he says. They're the only ones with a dark spot on their belly, as he pats his own tum-tum. We chat a little. Certainly his demeanour could posit him as curious bird-watcher by day, manager of Bates Motel by night. I continue my way, to have a warning from him: 'Don't go too far that way after dark. Coyotes, you know.'
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