There's a story behind this boat...
Port Townsend, Washington. Two lane roads. Deer nibbling in yards. The smell of one of the few remaining paper mills. The sound of a ferry in the distance. Boats. Boats in water. Boats at docks. Boats in yards. Under hoists. Up on jacks.
I went to Port Townsend in search of Bob.
Driving down the street. I looked for Bob's car.
Shiny honda? Not a chance.
Well maintained PT cruiser? Unlikely.
BMW? No way.
Then I saw it.
Sitting in the middle of the road.
A Volkswagen van. Rusted sides. Duct tape on the mirror. Door tied shut with yellow nylon rope.
Yep. That'll work.
Next I wanted to find out where he worked.
At the end of the road across from the marina there was a huge warehouse. I peeked inside.
Molds. Woodworking tools. Smooth shining hulls.
I passed a small building attached with a sign. "Yard Office."
I tried to find Bob himself.
I thought I might, but he appeared to always be just ahead of me.
Out of sight. Around the corner. I saw the back of a head. A smile. A wink.
Each place we went in- he had just left.
Ah well. Maybe next time.
At Fort Worden. I found his boat. Out in a grassy field.
I waited for a while but Bob didn't show up.
So I did the next best thing.
I found Ella.
Didn't I tell you? She spends time in Port Townsend.
We discussed my dilemma over a beer...
"Pat," she said. "You get hung up on the details."
She motioned me closer and whispered, "You got to let art just flow over you..."
And then she took a drink of her Kempers and winked.