One freighter, three cruise ships. Terns. A perfect sun-drops-off-the-edge-of-the-earth sunset.
Victoria Express coming in (and a second one almost immediately. Does #2 deadhead back every evening? She does a morning run, then the San Juan Islands from Victoria run, but spends the night here. I think.) No sign of Coho, who ought to have been visible by the time the sun slipped beneath the horizon at 8:48 PM. Long talk with a nice woman who was waiting to get a picture of Norwegian Star as she came in close to drop her pilot, and wave symbolically to a friend aboard.
I was too generally contented to bother taking yet another picture of ships and rocks and pilot boat traffic. As soon as the last bright speck of sun was gone, came home, opened the windows so I could listen for Coho. He gave his arrival horn blasts at 9:10 PM.
In violation of customary language, I continue to believe that Coho is a guy ship.
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