Wednesday: I prepared for my ferry trip to Shaw Island today by going to Holly B's Bakery and getting a few treats, then to the market to get a sandwich. I ran into the couple from the Clipper and they were having to become cyclists to get around the island since there was no taxi or bus service and they didn't have a car. I couldn't tell if they were really liking all the biking they were doing but the guy seemed proud of his ability to climb hills. Strangely, on the ferry to Shaw, there were a lot of other bikes. I had thought I would be the only cyclist on the island that day since they don't get many visitors due to the fact that there's not much on the island other than some houses, a couple of orders of nuns and a grocery store at the ferry dock.
I set off from the ferry dock and was sure I was in some fabled bicycle paradise.
Only 2 cars had offloaded from the ferry and they were long gone, since I had drunk a ginger ale at the store and lollygagged while the other cyclists departed. I just missed photoing a great heron in a bay at low tide. Riding toward the Shaw Island State Park, I saw a woman walking on the road and realized that she was a nun, noting her blue habit and headdress. Up the road, another nun was walking her bicycle up a slight rise and, while I was passing her, mounted the bicycle and started to ride. I regret not taking her picture but she seemed very self-conscious.
Realizing, I could easily ride around the
island and have way too much time on my hands before the next ferry, I decided to explore more than just the standard loop. I rode down to Neck Point and stopped to take pictures, while guarding myself against the strong winds. I saw a sailboat that looked like the Adventuress, a boat I have sailed on. We had also seen it from the Clipper and the captain had pointed it out.
At the ferry dock later that afternoon, I saw the group of cyclists I had seen earlier in the day and talked with them. They were a church group from Medford, Oregon traveling around the islands and doing a lot of the kind of stuff I was doing, except with bibles. Later, when I returned to Spencer Spit for my evening read, there was a group of church-goers singing and drumming about some Mexican dude named Jesus.