“Yes, of course it’s toasty in here. Why do you ask?”
“You, sir, are an idiot!”
Penn Cove, that ice-cold vixen, has made her decision.
She’s not warming up again. At least not until next July, and even then it’s doubtful.
Thursday (Day 179 if you’re counting, and I am) was one of those days when I almost waited too long to go to the water. Vainly hoping that the sun would come out at some point and provide at least an illusion of warmth, I occupied myself with other projects.
A little writing. A little exercise. A trip through the paving construction Hell that is downtown Coupeville to take prawns and carrots to Sitka, a fluffy, so fluffy, dog whose owner is on vacation.
What? You gave up prawns from staff meal?!?!? Fancy dogs need fancy treats…
Anyway, when it hits 3:30 in the afternoon and you still haven’t breached the water, and the sun still hasn’t come out, you have two options.
Wimp out and call it a day.
Or fire up the AC/DC, then get your butt down the Hill O’ Death, followed by a whole lot of muffled screaming and whimpering (I think I embarrassed the seagulls), only partially tempered by the possibly iceberg-infused water rushing into my open mouth and down my swim trunks.
Man, it might be nice to have a wet suit right about now.
But I’m not a tourist, so no.
Local and stupid. A potent combo.
And then I emerge from the murky depths, one giant goose-bump. The seals bow as I pass.
One more day down. Three weeks until Day 200. The battle continues.
Coupeville Sports 
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