Okay, ‘bye for now, Canada. Back soon.

It was not supposed to be the last day of our trip, but it turned out to be.

We were up early to meet our 9:00 AM check-in deadline for the ferry ride to Port Angeles, Washington. Sooz passed our few remaining fruits and veggies on to the folks at the next site over (most aren’t allowed into the US). We left the RV park and drove easily to–and around–Victoria’s inner harbour to the ferry terminal.

Going this direction, one must arrive 90 minutes before scheduled departure, because US Immigration stuff happens in Victoria, and it takes a good while. We encountered some highly entertaining agents who guided us through the process, and by 10:00 we were trundling onto the ferry. Then, up to the sun deck with supplies and equipment required for the 90-minute Strait of Juan de Fuca crossing.

No creature comfort spared for our intrepid terriers. On the sundeck of the Coho, trying to stay out of the sun, the tykes grudgingly share Tyler’s Big Boy Bed.

Our ferry, the Coho, named after some kind of fish, departed on time, with us on it. We had seen it the previous evening, passing the cruise ship terminal on its way out of the harbor.

The Coho seems big enough, as ferries go, but I think the Jewel of the Seas (Caribbean Cruise Lines) could eat it for lunch. Or snack.

But now it was our turn. We got to wave goodbye, at least.

We watched from the Coho as a float plane, possibly piloted by Clutch Cargo or maybe Sky King along with his niece, Penny, ascended in front of the RV park we had just vacated. ‘Bye for now Victoria!

It was a smooth crossing — Tyler experienced none of the Queasy Puppy Syndrome he suffered on a similar passage eight years prior — and we glided through customs like a Red-headed Woodpecker cruises through the trees at Taidnapam. (Go ahead, smirk. I’m trying, here).

Then onto our planned, two-night stay at campsite #51, Dungeness Recreation Area, near Sequim. This is a really nice, wooded campground inside a Clallam County park, and a few of the sites have views of the Strait of Juan de Fuca, according to our meticulous research.

However.

Contrary to the park website’s promise, site 51 just had views of 10-foot-high hedges and shrubs and whatnot. Unless we were willing to do some serious gardening, it would have just another two days of hiking off somewhere else to not feel like we were sitting in a small green room. And I’m thinking the park rangers probably didn’t want us to do any gardening for them, anyway. And we had forgotten to pack our hedge trimmer.

The boys were too tired, by now, to do much walking around. And we thought… Big, Hot Showers. King-size Bed. 64-inch TV. Air Conditioning.  Hmmm.

It was an easy two-hour drive home. I needed caffeine, though — I think I was starting to relax too early. Sooz kept handing me the bottle of Coke Zero and saying “talk to me.”

I wonder what I said.