Pushing off from the dock, it was cloudy, but by the time we pulled into Roche Harbor the sun was out and stayed with us until it set the trees in silhouette that evening.
Motoring between islands large and small, with tip-of-the-iceberg like rock outcroppings here and there, we gawked our way, binoculars ever in hand, past homes, other boats and ferries. A small, woodsy cabin here, a captain's cottage there, some nestled in trees by the water, some open to the sun; some with companion yachts moored at their long and languorous private docks, extending their domain into the sea; one home with pink flamingos - yes, even out here there has to be one - and this one had two pairs sitting on the waterside, a classic stick figure version, only very tall, stretched high to be seen; and the other pair a blow up version resembling huge beached floaty's waiting with silly-smiley grins for their children to come play.
Come late afternoon, securely anchored, embraced by the island arms of Roche Harbor, we relaxed in the cockpit of the Tani Kaye, the little coffee table laden with snacks of salmon spread, pita chips, veggies and wine - with nothing at all to whine about. Later, an easy dinner of BBQ burgers, potato salad and chips.
At sundown, the dusky evening brought blasts and a boom, and air horns blowing all around, as the tradition of ceremony saluted the retiring of the colors honoring "Our America" and our neighborly Canadian friends.
Right now, looking out over the water I see a sea of anchor lights marking the location of each boat at anchor in the harbor. The fringe of trees at the top of the islands are all that remains of the silhouette against the darkening western sky. Lights of houses on the hillsides illuminate the spaces and occupants within.
Bobbing, bobbing, flowing with the winds of the currents. The moon, a little more that half full, casts it's arrow of light, only slightly rippled by a gentle breeze, across the water pointing directly in my direction, pointing to me.
My boating companions down below laughing, joking, dice in a cup - shakelshakelshakel crussshc! - as they spill onto the table. Apparently Paul's the winner of this round.
Sounds of laughing, joyous merrymaking float my way from boats across the water. We are almost still now. The water is calm. The sky almost dark. I am getting drowsy. Rock me to sleep, sweet Tani Kaye. Let me wake to the sunrise in the early morn.