By Maryanna Gabriel
Left behind. Frick. Is that a swear? It is a wonderful word. Really gets the feeling out. I was to be car camping. It wasn't good.
Dash it all anyway. It was a bright sunny day, and it was perfect for a Day Off... tiddly pom. I wanted to swim at one of my favourite places and you know how it is these days... one has to be strategic about this type of thing to avoid crowds. But I had a good feeling and was up for the job. So I boarded the ferry destined for a nearby island and, well... it was wonderful. I had a splendid time. Good job, I said to myself. How terribly clever I am. For the return ferry, I was well in advance because we islanders don't mess around. The ferries wait for no man, er, woman, er, whatever. The wild-eyed look of an islander clearing the room at a hundred miles an hour is well understood in these parts. Everybody steps back understandingly because the consequences are horrific.
Well, I pulled up at the booth, but the hesitation of the attendant was a red flag. Then he announced my doom. "We cancelled the ferry. Today. Because it is summer, it is now dedicated to the Vancouver route."
Today? There was no arguing with the man. Just because it was there a couple of weeks back does not mean it will run a couple of weeks hence. Right? Silly me.
Okay, dinner out. Phone battery dying. Internet sketchy. Accommodation? Nil. Accommodation on the only alternate route the ferry took that night? Nil. Well not if you want to drive 30 miles and pay $400. How do all these people have the money to snap up every room, everywhere, at off the chart prices, anyway? I must be from another era. The last minute room at $100 was not going to happen.
There was no choice. I would sleep in my car outside the terminal. And you know what? It was an endless uncomfortable night. I'm amazed I survived to tell this tale, actually, given I don't bend like I used to. Always, double-check the schedules.
Gotcha. Sigh....
