I have become an indiscriminate killer. It came as quite a shock to me as normally I wouldn’t do much as kill a spider if I didn’t have to. But lately something strange has been happening. Continue reading “Natural Born Killer”
Americans have many beliefs about Canada. Some say that Canada is America’s hat. Some believe that the Canadians ride moose as their primary mode of transportation or use refrigerators to keep things warm. I don’t have much to say about these particular beliefs, but since entering Canada, I have formed a few of my own.
Despite its name which conjures up visions of the heavenly, Port Angeles is a dumpy little city on the north coast of Washington which luckily has one thing going for it—the ferry that goes to Victoria. Other than taking this ferry, I see no reason why a person might want to stay there.
As we came out of the Hoh rainforest early in the morning, one of the first things that we saw was two huge elk on the side of the road. They showed only minor irritation as we and another car in front of us stopped in the middle of the road to gawk. One lazily turned his head toward us, his mouth full of the grass that also stuck to his nose.