I have taken the bus from Moscow several times going westward toward Seattle, and in all those times, it has always left from a particular side of the Royal Motor Inn (which is it's own hilarious misadventure). So naturally, I assumed it would leave from that side again. It was a chilly early morning and mom and I just sat in the car catching up, waiting for the ostensibly late bus, when I saw it pull out onto the road from the opposite side of the motel.
I jumped out of the car, ran into the lobby, asked the woman if she could call the driver (to which she scowled, having, I'm sure, dealt with dirtballs like me many times before) and she said my best bet would be driving to the station in Pullman (seven miles down the road) to catch it. I jumped back in the car, updated mom on the situation, and she, in her bathrobe, put the pedal to the metal and we zipped off toward Pullman. We hit stoplights on red. We took a wrong turn in Pullman. Yet, just as I had resigned myself to having to call dad and let him know that I would be taking the 1pm bus (for which I was sure to have to forfeit my earlier ticket and buy another), arriving in the evening, we saw the bus station. The bus looked to be pulling out but graciously stopped at seeing us pull into the parking lot in a cloud of dust.
I grabbed my bags, ran at the bus arms waving, and to my pleasant surprise, the bus driver honored my frantic plea for help. He stopped the bus, got out, helped with my bags and very graciously listened to my story and accepted my many apologies. Classic. All that just to get on damned bus- I really do fly by the seat of my pants (which is really an awesome mental image when you really think about it). I need to work on that. I need to make sure I don't miss my bus this morning. I've still got an hour.
So I've been in Wenatchee for 4 nights and just about 4 days visiting dad. My vision and hope was to spend as much time outside doing active things as possible. We did that. After arriving on Friday, we went for a mellow tour of the town on bikes. Then on Saturday we went for a great day hike up off of Blewitt Pass (Ingall's Creek as I recall) on a beautiful 65 degree day- a beautiful drainage full of flowers slowly coming out of their buds and lingering snow on the peaks of the Cascades in the background. We put in a solid seven miles and it was a great day adventure. Then on Sunday we loaded up bikes and headed toward the lake town of Chelan. I had never been before and always have wanted to. The weather was a bit hard to read, it did rain a slight bit, but I was inspired and rode along the perimeter of the beautiful lake next to the vineyards, spectacular homes, and imagined I was in France on a time trial somewhere in the Alps- loved it. Dad, feeling a bit pooped and less open to getting rained on, was my saggin' wagon and followed me around the lake (ca 16 mile ride). We met up for a nice lunch in the intermittent sun by the lake in the tiny town of Manson. Then yesterday, we rode together from dad's place to Anjou Bakery- a great little European style bakery about 8 miles north of Wenatchee. The ride out there weaves through orchards and beautiful old farm houses and all on a peaceful little farm road. Dad wasn't sure that it'd be open on a Monday, but it was. We had a cup of coffee and the best cinnamon roll I've had in a long time. We had some great little adventures and a good time together.
Now I'm gearing up for a week in Seattle with friends before heading back to Knoxville. I'm excited to get to see so many wonderful people and spending time in one of the most magically verdant springtime places you can be. I'm looking forward to a fun last week of vacation.
Now where's that bus station?
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