Pretty soon a large two-point buck came out of the trees and bounded across the river, obviously not daunted by quicksand and Russian Olive. It was time to make our way back from the wilds to the very nice park with its manicured green lawns and comfortable shower rooms. Maybe they just couldn't figure out why we didn't motor around like everyone else. But there's nothing like paddling to get back to nature and rediscover the misery of aching muscles and sunburned feet, and bonk the occasional carp on the head. We did some macrame to put the boat back on the truck.
Straps hold the boat to the rack, and the painters hold down the bow and stern ends.
We each took an end. Mid-June, the earliest cherries are on the farmer's stands. There were Vaughn, Bing and Rainier varieties already so we loaded up on bags of fresh fruit and spit cherry pits happily out the open windows all the way back to Yakima. By the time I made it to Cle Elum on my way back to Seattle, it was already cold and wet again, and our trip to the desert island receded to a dream-like memory. Nothing to do but go back again soon.