Uncle Fish and your daddy did some very brave things that provided these people with food to eat,” Tarra answered.
“Oh,” Katrina said. “But…why don’t they like daddy then?”
Stephen frowned and muttered, “They do, but your Uncle Fish is more of a character than I am.”
“Oh. What’s a character?” she continued to ask.
Tarra laughed and then quickly replied for Stephen, “A character is somebody who is very interesting and easily recognizable. Like a TV actor.” Then she mentioned quietly to her husband, “That was the nicest way I could put it.”
“I know,” Stephen chuckled in agreement.
Fish poked his face into the truck and asked, “Are you guys talking about me in here?” Then he reached in and tickled each of the Kays’ ribs. They squealed with delight and playfully attempted to push his arm away. Pharaoh became nervous at the girls’ screams and pushed his way between them and Fish’s arm. Fish rubbed the dog’s neck and said, “Good boy, you keep on watching after these girls. Good job.”
On the way to the campground, they passed by Cranberry Lake. A small freshwater lake that bordered the south and southwest portion of The Park. Most of the land around the lake was heavily forested, and nearly impossible to reach by foot. Stephen had noticed many fishermen and women along the road where the lake was actually easily accessible. Some of them tossed a friendly wave at the truck, most did not. They appeared very serious, and for good reason. A bad day at the lake could very easily have meant no supper that evening. The Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife stocked the lake every year with catchable sized rainbow trout. In addition to the trout, panfish such as bluegill and sunfish populated the lake (although they never really got very big). Stephen also noticed people fishing from rowboats, pedal-boats and canoes scattered throughout the lake as well. The watercraft looked familiar. They were the same boats that were rented out for day-use by the Washington State Park system. There were typically a half dozen of each type available on a first-come, first-served basis. During the summer, a person would need to arrive quite early in the morning to get one. They went very quickly!
The ocean water of the Puget Sound bordered The Park from the west beach all the way north to the bridge at Deception Pass. Only a parking lot and a causeway along the west beach separated the freshwater Cranberry Lake from the saltwater of the Puget Sound.
Fish and the Alexanders were pleasantly surprised to notice that the campground was still clean and organized. About one-quarter to one-third of the campsites in The Park appeared to be occupied, which was actually quite a lot for that time of the year. Things normally didn’t pick up until Memorial Day, at which time you might need to sell your soul to the devil to get a decent campsite (or a campsite at all). Stephen knew that the campground boasted around 360 sites, so that meant that there might have been a hundred or so families in residence. “ Geezus, that’s a lot of fricken mouths to feed ,” he thought.
Once they were deeper inside the campground, the heavy smell of burning enveloped the truck’s occupants. Smoke. Different types of smoke as they passed site after site. Some smelled like trash, others like food on the grill, and a few had no distinct smell at all other than regular firewood. Everyone was burning. Fire was their cooktop, garbage disposal and heating unit all wrapped up in one. Stephen wondered where all the firewood was coming from, until they passed a small group of young adult and teenage boys in the process of felling a slender pine tree. Tarra (the environmentalist) had gasped when she first noticed what they were doing. Normally, that type of activity would be highly illegal inside a Washington State Park!
Some of the boys around the tree
“Oh,” Katrina said. “But…why don’t they like daddy then?”
Stephen frowned and muttered, “They do, but your Uncle Fish is more of a character than I am.”
“Oh. What’s a character?” she continued to ask.
Tarra laughed and then quickly replied for Stephen, “A character is somebody who is very interesting and easily recognizable. Like a TV actor.” Then she mentioned quietly to her husband, “That was the nicest way I could put it.”
“I know,” Stephen chuckled in agreement.
Fish poked his face into the truck and asked, “Are you guys talking about me in here?” Then he reached in and tickled each of the Kays’ ribs. They squealed with delight and playfully attempted to push his arm away. Pharaoh became nervous at the girls’ screams and pushed his way between them and Fish’s arm. Fish rubbed the dog’s neck and said, “Good boy, you keep on watching after these girls. Good job.”
On the way to the campground, they passed by Cranberry Lake. A small freshwater lake that bordered the south and southwest portion of The Park. Most of the land around the lake was heavily forested, and nearly impossible to reach by foot. Stephen had noticed many fishermen and women along the road where the lake was actually easily accessible. Some of them tossed a friendly wave at the truck, most did not. They appeared very serious, and for good reason. A bad day at the lake could very easily have meant no supper that evening. The Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife stocked the lake every year with catchable sized rainbow trout. In addition to the trout, panfish such as bluegill and sunfish populated the lake (although they never really got very big). Stephen also noticed people fishing from rowboats, pedal-boats and canoes scattered throughout the lake as well. The watercraft looked familiar. They were the same boats that were rented out for day-use by the Washington State Park system. There were typically a half dozen of each type available on a first-come, first-served basis. During the summer, a person would need to arrive quite early in the morning to get one. They went very quickly!
The ocean water of the Puget Sound bordered The Park from the west beach all the way north to the bridge at Deception Pass. Only a parking lot and a causeway along the west beach separated the freshwater Cranberry Lake from the saltwater of the Puget Sound.
Fish and the Alexanders were pleasantly surprised to notice that the campground was still clean and organized. About one-quarter to one-third of the campsites in The Park appeared to be occupied, which was actually quite a lot for that time of the year. Things normally didn’t pick up until Memorial Day, at which time you might need to sell your soul to the devil to get a decent campsite (or a campsite at all). Stephen knew that the campground boasted around 360 sites, so that meant that there might have been a hundred or so families in residence. “ Geezus, that’s a lot of fricken mouths to feed ,” he thought.
Once they were deeper inside the campground, the heavy smell of burning enveloped the truck’s occupants. Smoke. Different types of smoke as they passed site after site. Some smelled like trash, others like food on the grill, and a few had no distinct smell at all other than regular firewood. Everyone was burning. Fire was their cooktop, garbage disposal and heating unit all wrapped up in one. Stephen wondered where all the firewood was coming from, until they passed a small group of young adult and teenage boys in the process of felling a slender pine tree. Tarra (the environmentalist) had gasped when she first noticed what they were doing. Normally, that type of activity would be highly illegal inside a Washington State Park!
Some of the boys around the tree
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