It was the end of a month of great cruising, and now we were reluctantly heading home. It was good time. Quiet time. Relaxed time.
We decided to overnight at La Conner, one of our favorite transient moorages A quiet night, not many other boats on the dock. An evening walk and then turned in. Life was good.
The next morning, it was a Tuesday, sitting on the aft deck, enjoying a relaxed easy breakfast and then gazing out over the Swinomish Channel while supping a cupa. The day looked good.
My cell phone rang. It was our daughter, Lindsay, calling from Seattle. "Are you listening to the news? The whole world is falling apart!", and so we first heard of the attack on the towers.
We headed home to Seattle, listening on NPR (TV was not pulling in any signal). As we cleared Possession Sound we saw a USN vessel heading south, a ghostly and ominous sight. On the VHS we heard submarines being deployed, assumably from Bangor. Not another vessel in sight, commercial or recreational. Visibility was a little limited - - hazy, light fog, some mist. It was almost surreal as we listened to news and made for the Locks, not saying much, just absorbing.
The Locks were virtually empty and we moved right in. The whole facility seemed clothed in anxiety and curious foreboding. The lock attendant said that they were expecting to be ordered to close down the Locks, but hadn't received definite orders yet.
We motored on to Thunderbird Marina - - our home moorage. And then watched unending TV accounts.
Later we went to church.
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