September 8

Doug didn't sleep well, getting spasms in his back. In the past doing stomach muscle exercises has corrected this. On the boat, there are constant stomach muscle exercises. After two months one wouldn't think it's the settee cushions we've been using for mattresses.

We wait until the tide change, then head on up to Rainier. Not a normal stop for us, but we need, of all things, cat food. And ice. We tie up, I take the hike. What used to be the grocery store is now a scratch and dent food store (at least they had cat food) about a mile north of the dock. Block ice is availabe at the filling station across the street. The nearest real grocery store, according to the pump jockey, would be in Longview. Hike back to the boat. There seems to some kind of fishing event going on, we've seen lots of boats anchored off the Washington side of the river fishing. Unfortunately, several of these recreational fishermen motor into Rainier at high speed, setting up wakes that made things very bouncy for Cindy and Squishy. Rather inconsiderate. We get under way, and are able to sail a good portion of the way to Martin Island. Several times we hear horn 5 blasts from freighters, which usually means “get out of my way”. We're pretty sure this was directed at the boats anchored in the shipping channel to fish.

We pull into Martin Island, drop hook, intent on spending a few days. Horses here now, in addition to cows. No one else in the pond, quiet except for the noise from I5. We scrub down and sluice down the decks. Unfortunatly, we sluice down the inside of the cabin, too, so have to get that dried out. It's cooled off a little, Doug saves swimming for tomorrow. A sailboat comes in, then goes out again. Odd. An inflatable rows in, lets the dog on shore for it's business, then rows out again. Also odd. At high tide, the first sailboat comes back in, along with another, larger sailboat, with the inflatable in tow. It takes the bigger boat some time to sound out the pond, then anchor and the little sailboat rafts up to them. The odd becomes clear now. The entrance to the pond in Martin Island is shallow, and big boat's owner is timid. They anchored out in the channel until high tide before coming in. The dog had to go, and there's really no landings outside of the pond (unless you know about the creek).

We move Doug to the quarter berth for the night, hoping more space might help with his back.