These photos are off the Guemes Island Resort page. I can taste the crab that my brother Dave harvests from the cold, salty Puget Sound. The little fishing cabins have been around for decades. Our family stayed in a different one every year. Sleeping bags on bunk beds, a wood stove smell, s'mores, hamburgers, hotdogs, swims in the now gone swimming pool, climbs on the driftwood. Oh, if only I could go there right now. I'm going.
Bill and I have packed the car, checked the fairy (oh, I mean ferry) schedule and we are off to Anacortes to wait in the line. I can't wait to drive onto the ferry. I find the bumpy connection between car tires and ship steel a little scary and WONDERFUL. We slowly follow the ferry attendant's arm motion directions, turn off the engine and get out of the car to walk up the steep metal stairs so we can feel the salty wind and point our noses toward Guemes! My little childhood island! Here I come!
Driving off the ferry boat, we shall stay on this one country road until we arrive at the Guemes Island Resort. There's the store! I wonder which t-shirt, hat or keychain I might purchase there. Wine? Candy? Yes, yes. We'll come back. Onward to my favorite and familiar beach. I must see Jack Island first!
We roll up to the back of the cabins. We'll stay in the Lummi. For $150 dollars per night, we'll pretend it is our own. Bill will fire up the wood stove and I'll unpack our food. I will revel in the cabin-y smell and remember my childhood excitement. Thank you, Mama, for doing all the grown up work so Karol and I could run to the beach immediately and climb on the driftwood! I shall do that now! I leave the unpacking and walk to the beach, sit in the rocks, look for some driftwood big enough to accommodate my girth, lie back on the warm rocks and breathe. In and out, thank you, thank you, Lord God the Creator, for the sensual delight of this little spot. My Guemes.
Up and back to the cabin. We'll have brats for dinner. I'll break out my own potato salad, chips and salsa, and grape soda. Bill and I will dine at the picnic table, look upon each others' faces, relish being alone, in love, and I shall soak up the sea air in thankfulness again! After a glass of wine, we'll clean up the mess, wash the dishes, tidy the kitchen and lie in bed. I'll snuggle close, whisper "thank yous" into Bill's ear, and fall asleep with great anticipation for a wake up at the beach of my dreams.
Coffee brewing, muffins waiting, I'll forgo a shower and don my jeans and sweatshirt, running shoes with no socks, WALK out to the beach, sit on a sizable hunk of driftwood and simply LOOK. I'll see the stillness of the islands in the bay, smell the seaweed, feel the brisk, damp air, hear the tide coming in . . . and breathe more thank yous. David, my brother, and his wife Judy will stay in the Cowichan, so Dave can man the crab cages. He and I will go out in the little boat, hum along, listening to the sturdy outboard motor, drop the cages to be retrieved later, full of crabby goodness. Dave and I will walk on the beach before coming back for coffee at the picnic table. Judy and Bill will join us as we plan a walk out on the road. We'll visit Uncle Don's old cabin, his newer house and the art gallery.
Later we'll come back for bologna sandwiches, potato chips and more grape soda. We'll lie on an old, outdoorsy smelling quilt, placed on the rocky beach . . . and nap. Another walk down the beach and I'll find ten agates, put them in my pocket, throw some stones into the lapping water, climb on more driftwood and go back into the cabin to continue my nap. Wine, cheese and bread for dinner, decaf coffee on the comfy beach chairs, covered up with mosquito spray, enjoying the dusk, loving life and completely relaxing. Off to bed again, I'll anticipate my breakfast coffee, toast, and another long morning with many whiffs of the sea.
Later in the day, we'll drive around the island, wishing for affordable real estate offerings, gasping at scenic overlooks, stopping at the store for more provisions, and head back to the resort for a few more quiet, nonproductive days of reading, napping, knitting, talking, crab eating, RELAXATION that feeds the soul and I'm not going to talk about leaving and returning to the real world because I don't want to.
I hope you have a place like Guemes Island in your memory bank and I hope you can "go" there today. Happy summer.