From Anacortes, Washington

Did I mention luxury? Here are two of our rooms at the Rose Cottage in Portland...



All packed and ready for a long drive north, I took George out for the ritual of his morning eliminations before another sumptuous breakfast prepared for us by our hostess, Sally. This time it was fresh Washington peaches, unadulterated, sweet in their own juices; home-made scones with a hint of cheddar cheese and apple-garlic jam; and tiny riccotta cheese and sour cream pancakes with a ligonberry sauce.



Delicious. Nothing but the best ingredients--good, wholesome, natural, and as pure as Sally can find them. She is truly an artist in the kitchen, and an impeccable hostess in every other aspect of the B&B tradition!



We left with great reluctance: we would have been glad to spend another few days. Or weeks...

We found our way to the 5 freeway north, driving out of Portland and, soon, into Washington state, with fine views of Mt. St Helens off to the east.


Sorry, not a great picture, but the best we could do from a speeding car on the freeway. We recalled that the last time we were in this city, visiting friends, was a week or so after the eruption of the volcano, and that the streets were still inches deep, in places, in volcanic ash. We even filled a small bottle of the stuff to take back with us to Los Angeles, to prove where we had been.

Many hours, then, on the freeway, most of it at an even sixty-five to seventy, with the Prius maintaining a steady forty-eight to forty-nine miles per gallon. We found a rest stop where George enjoyed the respite of a ball-chase on his long-line, but otherwise, it was all drive and not much fun.


The stretch past Seattle, on to Anacortes where we were booked for the night prior to our ferry crossing to Orcas Island, was particularly long. Somehow I had it in mind that it was only a short hop. No. And the shorter I had imagined it to be, the longer it became. Ellie's readings from the Steinbeck book were helpful, but I must say I was heartily relieved when we finally reached the turn-off from the 5 and made the short-ish drive from there to Anacortes.

We were not so fortunate, alas, with our lodgings as we have been the past two nights. The woman at the reception desk was reluctant to admit that we had booked a room with George. Her computer showed otherwise. Our reservation confirmation proved us right. She complained about the booking service. We pointed out that the issue was between the hotel and the booking service, that we wanted a room, with dog, at the price we had been quoted. The sheer stupidity of the argument wore us down, however, and we settled for a little more than we had bargained for, for the sake of peace and a room for the night.

We took a brief trip into Anacortes--the hotel is further from the center than we had imagined--where Ellie explored a couple of antique shops that denied access to George, and I bought a copy of "The Audacity of Hope"--a book I have long been intending to read. A few pages into it, outside the antique shoos, I was already hooked by the sheer quality and intelligence of the writing. Obama is truly an impressive man. I only hope he's not too smart for the average voter!

Shacked up, now in a room pervaded by that motel smell, I await the start of the national news. We plan to return to town for a bite to eat later in the evening. It won't match Sally's fare!