August 19-21. The ferry eastbound was chaotic, traffic heavy on Whidbey Island; and it was hot in the Fraser Delta. C and me mostly hung around inside, near fans, and let the world proceed without us.
Tagged along with J on his Sunday morning routine. Went for a bit of a walk with his walking group; we were on a boardwalk trail in the coniferous area of Burns Bog, squoze between the highway and the railroad tracks. The boggier areas are a Preserve not open for hiking.
On the paved path, before you reach the boardwalk loop, there were vast numbers of a mystery flower. It was elaborate and delicate enough to look like a runaway garden flower, and certainly must be invasive rather than native. But—after hours of online research, and much paging through plant books, by all three of us— it remains a mystery.
Sunday morning, part 2: off to the White Rock Farmer's Market. Wonderful produce from the Fraser Valley, gorgeous fruit and berries from the Okanagan. Music, cool breeze off the water, just perfect wandering weather.
Having drawn a false conclusion about summer weekend conditions from the trip north, I left early and allowed hours and hours of extra time for the border crossing, traffic, and mischance. Arrived on Whidbey with lots of time to spare, and detoured down into Deception Pass State Park, to see the bridge from below. Unexpectedly encountered people swarming the shore and the Pass to catch pink salmon (humpies, everyone called them, not pinks) (1)(2). It was slack tide, which I don't understand but I could see with my eyes: no visible current and the boats were just bobbin' around out there close enough to talk to the folks casting from the shore. They were catching fish.
Those fish had a job to do, to get on through the Pass and up the Skagit River to spawn. They fought against the lines. They flapped and wriggled determinedly trying to get themselves back down the shore into the water again. I'm not sure I want to eat salmon anymore.