Tuesday, December 23, 2014

Bremerton Ferry



I've decided I need a ferry in my life.

It was all rather a shock when we went to visit our son near Seattle last summer.

I knew he lived on a peninsula.

I knew he had to take a ferry to come and go with any efficiency what so ever.

I even knew we would have to take the ferry to get to his house.

Somehow, though, I had a small ferry in mind.

     A quick trip across the bay ferry.

          A maybe fifteen minutes if we timed it just right ferry.

The conversation when we got off the plane didn't quite go as expected.

"We're here.  We just have to pick up the rental car and we'll be on our way.  If you want to meet us at the dock, we'll go get some dinner."

"You won't be here in time for dinner.  The ferry leaves in fifteen minutes."

"Oh.  Well, I preregistered the car.  Surely it won't take too long."  (Seriously?  You'd think I'd never rented a car before.)

"Aren't you at the airport."

"Yes"

"The airport is a good hour from the terminal."

"Oh.  Well, ok. I guess we'll just catch the next one then."

"That's an hour."

"An hour?"

"And the trip is over an hour."

"An hour???"

Yes, an hour.  And that didn't include sitting in the line waiting to drive onto the ferry, then sitting in the line waiting to drive off.  It seemed interminable on that first ride.

People really do this every day?

I couldn't imagine the planning to meet the schedules, the enforced captivity, the constant tension of lost control.  An hour, each way, for every casual trip into town.  

For that one hour, there was absolutely nothing I could do about time.  I couldn't hurry the captain, I couldn't pass a slow vehicle, I couldn't rush to meet a schedule.  It was all completely out of my control.

Control.

The ultimate fantasy of modern life.  With our phones and messages and voice mails and all day every day contact, just who is really in control?

All through that week, as I floated day by day, twisting through the inlet, back and forth, I relinquished all thoughts of control.

For fifty-five minutes, all I could do was talk to my family, read a good book, take a quick nap, or just stand on the deck and watch the mountains float by.  

What a wonderfully peaceful way to live.