Discovery Park

I dropped D at home after our Veteran's Day excursion to Camano Island and then, to avoid spending the afternoon sanding a bunch of cabinet doors or checking my work email, I headed off to another beach. I put the bike on the car and drove to Discovery Park. You can't park at the beach without a permit and although D probably thinks I should have a handicapped permit, I don't. The ride down to the beach at West Point is easy. The ride back up counts as exercise.

Cama Beach

For the third time in as many weeks, D and I headed north to the Stanwood area to find roads less traveled and more suited to learning how that darned clutch works. I don't think he appreciates his ancient parents' reluctance to try new-fangled gadgets like automatic transmissions, but the concept is becoming clearer to him. What I didn't warn him about yesterday was that it was also a chance to go to the beach. We swung by Cama and walked down to the shore - seemed very quiet, although Jeff reported things were staying busy. After half an hour or so we headed back towards Stanwood in search of burgers.