On the third night, we got a call from some friends who have a cabin on Decatur Island. That sounded good to me.
There's a real shower in Tom and Cathy's cabin. And real beds. Don't get me wrong, I like a little boat camping, but it is camping afterall. It is not the soft life that I am used to and prefer. I never sleep properly in a campground, RV park, or marina. Any seating surfaces are scaled down, the bed is usually hard, the other campers too close and too loud for privacy. In a marina you always get those early morning people who just want to peek into your boat because they are curious. And yes, they will knock on your door even if you have the windows covered.
Cathy and Tom made us all a nice dinner of grilled chicken, roasted sweet potatoes and spinach salad. We watched a movie from full-sized sofas and got a good nights' sleep. The morning brought full color views from their picture windows of marine layer lifting over bright blue water. The Anacortes to Lopez ferry scooted by and seemed to pull the curtain of fog in it's wake, revealing bright and sunny morning sky.
A day fit for picture postcards and scrapbook memories. The sun felt warm and comforting as we enjoyed a breakfast of biscuits and gravy with apple slices and good coffee. Let's walk the beaches, someone said.
The cabin sits on a long gravel beach dotted with summer cabins. There is a salt water lagoon, then a spit that you can cross to another long gravel beach with more views of evergreen islands and shipping lanes. Cathy likes to look for agates, and she has quite a collection of them.
My eyes aren't tuned into those. Somehow, decades have passed and I haven't found a single one. But there are so many treasures that wash up; we found several jellyfish the size of dinner plates, colored crimson and magenta at their centers. John tried to relaunch one, but it was quite dead and dissolved in the cold water. Tentacle pieces and pigment spread slowly, the jelly body sinking out of sight.
We walked by driftwood fortresses built by children and parents over the summer months. They have not yet been swept away by winter storms.Tom found an old crab pot buoy painted red and blue. It looks good hung above one of the forts.
There were footprints of island deer to follow along the waterline, sand fleas to stir up, flotsam and jetsam from boats to examine. There must be a Starbucks nearby, said Tom. Here is a smoothie cup with the cap and straw still in it. You are never far from Starbucks in the Northwest.
Cathy found two agates.
I found something else. It's a small bone, I said. Too heavy for a fish or a bird. Long and smooth, it had been tumbling and washing long enough to be turning a bit translucent, but it was solid.
I think it's a human finger.
No one believes me. Cathy took it and put it in her pocket. I'll show it to Kevin, she said, and see what he thinks. Kevin is her boss at the school district where she works as a teacher's aid.
I'm not sure how Kevin's authority extends into forensics, but maybe he knows how to use the internet.
I don't want it. I'd feel I'd have to find the owner or the next of kin.
Pretty sure it's a finger. Phalanx proximalis. Third one. What do you do with that?
