There is a reason a certain activity is called a “whale watch” and not a “whale photographic opportunity.”

This reason is what is going to keep me from making it big in National Geographic photo circles.  I tried and tried to capture the majestic beauty of said sea mammals to no avail.  I did see a couple whales throw themselves playfully into the air, making for a great shot.  I politely suggested to my camera that we should perhaps capture this moment, a true marvel.  My camera would then cough, rub its hands together thoughtfully, open it’s mouth to speak and then pretend it hadn’t been listening.

“What was that you said?” the camera would ask.

“I said take a picture of the whale OH LOOK THERE’S ANOTHER ONE.  QUICK--FLASH, FLASH!”

The camera would again think about it and take a picture five minutes later. 

I have quite the collection of gray sea pictures set against the stunning back drop of a cloudy sky.  I can practically taste the Pulitzer. 

In any case, I am only one day away from flying home.  Oh, sweet, sweet home.  How I long to be away from this bus.  I keep rolling by this natural beauty thinking it would look better with Boston cement all over it.  Michele and I had this conversation today:

“They should pave this paradise and put up a parking lot.”

“Yeah, let’s tear down the trees.”

“And put them in a tree museum.”

“Then we can charge people 25 bucks just to see em’!”

“Don’t it always seem to go, that you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone?”

“*sigh* Yeah.  I love that dirty water.”

“Hey!  Don’t change the subject.”

I think it’s safe to say that I’ve had enough vacation.  For another decade.  Though rugged, exquisite Canada now holds a special place in my heart.  Just like charter buses now hold a special place in my idea of hell.