A Week on Whidbey

    A week of fun and laughter.  A week of memories shared and made.  I believe we did it all.

    Sally Jo and I picked up as if 26 years had not passed since we last saw each other.  I learned again that she is an adventurous, unafraid extrovert.  She forged the way through our days, getting me to see and do things I hadn’t before here on Whidbey Island, taking my basic outline of places to go and making them into new adventures.

    We started out with Deception Pass Bridge on Sunday right after church.  Undeterred by the heavy fog, we headed across:  me, conquering my fear of heights and walking across for the first time (it helped not to be able to see a thing) and Sally tromping ahead, busily taking pictures of the mist and leaning over the bridge to peer at the water directly below.

    The Sunday evening early show at the Clyde Theater in Langley was a must.  Marmaduke was as corny as Disney films come, but John, Mom, Sally, and I enjoyed it.  We topped the experience off with pizza at the local pizzeria:  half slathered with meats and extra garlic, the other with feta, artichokes, and pepperoni.

    Monday kept us fairly close to home because John was at work.  We previewed Coupeville in the morning and, after lunch with Mom, headed out to Double Bluff Beach, doing some good walking even though the tide was halfway in.  Little did I know that I was slowly getting broken in for the exertions of the next two days.

    Sally said that she had really nice hotel accommodations complete with washer and dryer in the room.  Thinking she was referring to her impending overnight at the Hampton by the airport, I said, “Wow!  I didn’t know they had washers and dryers in the rooms!”  With no lack of humor, she had to explain she meant HERE in the shop guest room. 

    I am glad that Sally is an excellent flutist because we put her sightreading skills to the test Monday evening.  She filled in the missing part at our church rehearsal for Sunday’s special music (“For the Beauty of the Earth”) and a series of missing parts for Enchanted Flute Choir rehearsal.

    Introvert that I am, it wouldn’t have occurred to me to talk with the staff in the Fort Casey State Park office Tuesday morning, but it did to Sally.  A delightful visit ensued followed by the Admiralty Head Lighthouse experience and a steal of a deal on a reversible jacket for her.  Before that, as we tromped over and through all the fort bunkers, she was drawing on her Army background to educate me about everything to do with forts.

    Coupeville turned out to be a culinary experience.  (In my two years here, I have easily fallen into the ruts of habit and forgotten to explore.)  We previewed downtown on Monday morning after Sally successfully navigated me through my courthouse errand, so we were ready for Tuesday.  At Toby’s Tavern, she suggested sharing the one pound serving of steamed Penn Cove mussels.  I even tried a sip of the signature microbrew.  Though I really hate beer, this red ale tasted alright.  A little later, at Knead and Feed (which I invariably remember as “Knead and Breed”), we  had coffee and shared a piece of perfect rhubarb pie. 

    Heading on up the island, we hit the heady aromas of Lavendar Wind Farm.  I fell in love with lavendar in all its lovely variations.  Ah, the wonderful gardens:  gaze out on subtly shifting blooms and very busy bees.  And with every step, breathe deeply.  Stepping into the gift shop after wandering the gardens was a deeply lavendar experience as well:  the whole shop was fragrant with the dried bunches hanging from the ceiling.  We looked at honey, jams, and spreads; hand soap, shampoo, and massage oil; tea sets, sachets, and bar soaps; cards, pictures (my favorite the watercolor of a sheep standing in the middle of a lavendar field enjoying the harvest) . . . and tried the lavendar-enhanced ice cream bars.

    On the way home we stopped briefly at Greenbank Farm.  Sally was on the mission to have me experience my first wine tasting at a wine cellar.  (In some ways, I have led a rather sheltered life.)  A dollar for a scrumptious sip of sweet Riesling—what a delight!

    Sally, digging through her purse, wonders aloud at what law of physics  makes whatever she’s looking for hide at the bottom.  I say a sympathetic “Yeah, I know what you mean.”  Mom pops in with her apt reply:  “Gravity.”

    And then Wednesday was here, my 55th birthday and Barb’s arrival.  (Barb, Sally, and I met at Blue Lake Fine Arts Camp in August 1970 and hadn’t spent my birthday together since.)  The three of us laughed and talked our way from one end of the island to the other.  Coffee and scones at Mukilteo Roaster Café:  we beat the morning rush and had our choice of seats out on the patio.  Langley, as I knew it would, reminded them of Saugatuck, Michigan where I used to live:  tourist town plus waterfront.  We walked the downtown, carefully scoping out our eating choices and deciding on the Swiss bakery for lunch.  More conversation and laughter there at an outdoors table.  Double Bluff Beach:  we walked the beach and witnessed a one-man air show of a bi-plane twirling and twisting and diving above us.  A quick stop at the grocery store in Freeland provided us with refreshing Steaz iced tea and water.  We were ready for Meerkerk. 

    Ordering drip coffee at the Mukiteo Roaster Café:  “We’re the three drips.”

    And here I must digress to the subject of phone booths.

    I am used to seeing the old phone booths on the island, but they provided entertainment for Sally.  I guess phone booths are extinct in Austin.  A phone booth sighting meant picture time, so I was sure to stop at the phone booth midway between Freeland and Greenbank.  The three of us clambered out of the car, Sally armed with her wet wipes to disinfect the receiver so she could pose for Barb and me.  Now, I’ve seen tourists pull off the highway to take pictures of eagles, but never phone booths.

    We had Meerkerk Rhododendrum Gardens all to ourselves, still lovely even with no rhodies in bloom.  We oohed and aahed over the monkey puzzle tree, Sally educated us on names of flowers, Barb was enchanted by the honor system at the nursery, and as tour guide, I led us astray to the service road in my search for the rock garden. 

    How did we do so much in five hours?  I don’t know.  I kept thinking of various women’s fiction I have read—rather wistfully--over the years, stories of long-time friends off on some vacation or trip and having the time of their lives.  We were those women.  I was living one of my dreams.

    But Wednesday was far from over.  Driving past the Naval Air Force Base landing field near Coupeville, we were duly startled by a series of touch and goes in progress.  We headed for Deception Pass, hoping the sun would be shining this time.  And it was.  All of one mind, we wanted to park by the bathrooms, but that lot was full, so we parked on Pass Island between the two bridges.  It might have been sheer need that propelled Barb and me across that bridge, but I prefer to think it was bravery on our part.  Sally led the way, happily snapping pictures and leaning out over the bridge to get the best views.  Barb followed, carefully holding on to the steel guard rail on the left and the wire line on the right, looking straight ahead with that particular intense focus that those of us who are afraid of heights use, and I followed behind with a similar focus on Barb’s shoes in front of me. 

    Later, back home at Casa Del Gato, we took Barb on the tour:  shop, houses, dogs, cats.  I gave her and Sally and Mom a brief alto flute concert, and then it was off to China City in Freeland along with my brother John, our token male, for a scrumptious meal.  My consumption of walnut shrimp was unparalleled, as was my embarrassed delight when the server appeared with birthday wishes:  a single candle stuck in a frozen custard with fried banana slices artfully arranged around it.  We said our good-byes to Barb, who needed to catch the 8:30 p.m. ferry.

    At 6:45 a.m. the next morning, my phone rang.  It was a sleepy Sally (calling from our shop guest room), suggesting we skip our planned Seattle trip.  Later, we texted Barb, who was doing the Seattle sightseeing with her family, to let her know she would not run into us at Pike Place.  Sally and I got a later start, deciding to do a day in Port Townsend instead.  It was a fortuitous choice:  lovely, sunny skies; smooth ferry crossing; no waiting; no crowds.  We had the best salmon quiche and best coffee in the world at Better Living Through Coffee; window-shopped our way through downtown; enjoyed a scrumptious truffle (chocolate, not mushroom); wended our way through the downtown museum; ate a late and healthy lunch followed by a delicious dessert; and power-walked to the ferry . . . well, Sally walked fast.  I dragged along behind, all my energy spent.

    After dinner at home,  Mom and John headed off to pick up friend Debra for the movies.  Sally and I stayed home to pack up her stuff and put up our feet.  Then, realizing it was my last chance, I rounded us up to go buy some of that wonderful sweet Riesling for me and a Malbec for her.  Well, I didn’t know about the Malbec, but Sally gladly gave me another wine lesson as we scoured Payless for the perfect under-ten-dollar wines.  Back at home, we each enjoyed a glass (yes, just one) with the obligatory cheese and crackers.  We used the good crystal and had to keep shooing Orie (Mom’s cat) away from the cheese.  He didn’t show any interest in the wine.

    The week would not be complete without a trip to the senior citizens thrift store in Freeland.  We both snagged a few bargains Friday morning, had lunch at home (leftover Chinese) with Mom and John, and then it was time to take Sally the half mile down the road to the Greenbank Store where the Whidbey-SeaTac Shuttle picked her up.  I went home and took a nap.

    A carefree week is good medicine for the soul.  Barb is back in Detroit and Sally in Austin.  I’m holding down the fort at Casa Del Gato, having spent this rainy day (Saturday) relaxing and ruminating while Mom and John are picking up more cougar caging from a friend down near Mount Rainier.  The solitude of the day and the writing about our adventures are just what I need to top off a perfect vacation week with good friends right here on Whidbey Island.