Victoria secured her orange and blue pup tent to the stainless steel deck shackles of the Marine Vessel Kennicott, and tied a guy line to the deck railing. She crawled inside with her pack, roll-up mattress, and sleeping bag. When she looked through the tent flap a few minutes later, she saw a float plane rock against the whitecaps and break loose to the north. A white-hooded eagle soared against the dark green shoreline with a large fish in its talons. Mount Baker and the North Cascade Mountains backdropped the harbor to the east.
After her long car trip from Michigan to Bellingham, Washington, she relaxed at the thought of floating the Alaska Marine Highway. Her car was secured below. She would travel 3500 miles by water to Dutch Harbor through the Inside Passage, across the Gulf of Alaska and along the Aleutian Chain. No more driving for a long while. Her first stop would be Ketchikan--38 hours away. What a great feeling to be a passenger!
After her long car trip from Michigan to Bellingham, Washington, she relaxed at the thought of floating the Alaska Marine Highway. Her car was secured below. She would travel 3500 miles by water to Dutch Harbor through the Inside Passage, across the Gulf of Alaska and along the Aleutian Chain. No more driving for a long while. Her first stop would be Ketchikan--38 hours away. What a great feeling to be a passenger!
Just a few feet to her left, another tent had just been placed, and Victoria could hear a rumbling growl from inside. Just then a Yellow Labrador peeked out from the tent opening with its nose high in the air. It looked like a big yellow ghost. “Stay, Gravy!” shouted a voice from within. “That’s my dog, Gravy,” a young man said as he popped through the tent opening. “He’s an awesome dog. Got him from Lab Rescue down in Portland. He was half dead, but I brought him back to life after a few weeks. Named him for a misunderstood hymn when I was a kid in church. I thought we were singing, ‘up from the gravy he arose,’ and I could see Jesus rising from a steaming gravy boat. Mom later told me, it was 'grave, he,' not 'gravy,' so I thought I would name my dog, 'Gravy,' since he sort of resurrected himself. My name’s, Chris. What’s yours?”
Astounded, Victoria just said, “Victoria.”
“Well glad to meet you, Victoria. You have a very proper name. Is that what you go by or do people call you ‘Vickie’ or something?”
“No, people call me Victoria,” and she added, “I have a car on board.” Perhaps she thought that having a car would give her some kind of edge on this forward person, like someone saying, “I have a gun, so don’t get too close."
“Never owned a car. I have a bicycle below. I’m into bicycles. Bicycles saved my butt--moved from an all-night crowd to a keep-fit crowd. I make custom bicycle wheels in Portland--humming perfect wheels. I ride every day, except when I’m on boats, of course.”
She looked him over. He was about one-seventy-five, six-foot-two in his mid-thirties. He was lean and muscular, and when he stood up, he looked as straight as a redwood tree. He had short, sandy hair, blue eyes, and an angular, weathered face. He wore a light blue denim shirt under a dark blue hoodie with canvas khaki pants. He looked right at you when he talked, and seemed to have a permanent smile. No tattoos that she could see.
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