Lost at Sea

So today was the final day that my brother visited. On the way to the airport we stopped by the fisherman's memorial in Squalicum Harbor named Safe Return.

We had both just finished reading Lost at Sea, a story about fourteen fisherman lost in two boats - the Americus and Altair - in the dangerous icy Alaskan water while crabbing. The crew was entirely from Anacortes, a small town we passed through last week on our way back from the peninsula. Anacortes is a fishing town about forty-five minutes down the road, and although the tragedy occurred in the early eighties, it is still widely remembered in Bellingham as well as Anacortes.

After that, to the airport, and then back to my nightly routine of watching another wonderful sunset. A crowd gathered around the rocks by the water and a baby seal was alone, apparently abandoned, and its breathing appeared shallow and irregular. So it seemed logical to call Fish & Wildlife, or better yet (as was suggested) the police. So I called 911 and went back to monitor this cute little furry animal. Within five minutes of the call, he took he slid back into the bay and disappeared. He surfaced about fifty feet out, looked at us again, and swam away. Oh well.



And on the way to the park, I was riding by the movie theater to see what was playing, and I ran into some performers I know at the Idiom Theater that were standing outside having a smoke and reviewing some lines for their 8pm performance. So I decided to attend their second (10pm) show tonight, which is always great entertainment in a very intimate setting.