Camping on San Juan Island
"You have to stop and pick up some cherries for us. They're only a buck a bucket, and the buckets are huuuuuuge. It's on the corner of Commercial and 22nd. We were following someone so we couldn't stop and pick some up ourselves." So went the edict from one of the traveling caravan's passengers that I received on Meg's cell phone as we approached Anacortes. We had just embarked on a four-day, three-night car-camping adventure to San Juan Island, and we were minutes away from arriving at the ferry terminal. I honestly didn't want to stop for something so trivial (but which was professed to be of such profound importance), but we did anyway. The owner of the fruit stand, however, employed deceitful tactics to lure in wary out-of-towners: the purported "huge" buckets, which went for $7, easily dwarfed the advertised $1 buckets, which held about 10 cherries. (Meg gave the woman the finger on our return to Portland--suck my pit, fruit demoness)