When we were kids my parents used to take us on these seemingly endless road trips- hauling us along narrowly winding back roads, over plunging precipices with roaring cataracts hundreds of feet down, through forests arching close overhead. It didn't seem unusual then, but almost every day that drive included at least one ferry boat ride.
It really didn't bother us. In fact, it was usually the best part of the day. We were thrilled to be out of the vehicle- an old suburban with open windows for air conditioning and metal seat-belts that scorched your legs. I've got sepia-coloured memories of my little brother and I playing on the sandy beach, waiting for the ferry to come in, of building rafts from driftwood, lips blue from the glacier fed water. Getting back into the hot vehicle as the ferry docked, laughing as we watched the goosebumps on our arms disappear.
My dad would drive onto the boat and as soon as he put the suburban into park we were out the door again, begging our parents to let us watch the metal gates screech and slam shut. Then the boat would shudder as the motors started up and we'd race to the front, my parents walking unhurriedly behind us, hand in hand and smiling.
Have a great day :)
Love,
Hearts & Photos
No comments:
Post a Comment