During the night the winds shifted direction, bringing in the smoke. And as every high-school cheerleader knows, “Where there’s smoke there’s fire.” We woke up basically feeling like chain smokers. But it also was raining. Yucky start to the day.
On the positive side our two-headed dog let us sleep until 8:30, which is unheard of. We rewarded them with a ride in Mini Pearl over to town for a long walk. Don’t they look excited?
Killarney is a pretty big boating town for a pretty not-big town in general. For a while they had a big movie screen right where we could’ve watched a movie from the boat if they hadn’t let the screen fall to pieces and still showed movies on it. Still fun to walk around though, even in residual smoke.
During the walk, we stopped off at an ice cream shop for a picture of something bizarre we saw yesterday.
That’s right, Slim Jim equivalents made from KANGAROO. What’s wrong with the world? Many other obvious questions. How is it legal to process kangaroo meat? We haven’t seen any kangaroos in Canada, so somebody had to ship carcasses or already-processed meat across an ocean. How is that economically feasible? Most importantly, who the hell eats Kangaroo Slim Jim’s? That’s like eating kittens. We asked the teenager behind the counter if people really bought them. Her completely non-responsive response was “They’re everywhere in Australia. They’re like squirrels.” Hold on there Missy. That only raises more questions. Like who the hell eats SQUIRREL Slim Jim’s? What’s going on here?
Robin at Queen’s Cove Marina had insisted that we take a dinghy over to Covered Portage Cove. We did, and despite the day’s grayness it was well worth it.
Afterwards we cruised back to town. The hot spot for food is the fish place.
When a joint claims to be “world famous,” however, it creates certain expectations. The fish was pretty good, but it seems unlikely that the indigenous peoples of Borneo, or Somalia, or other places on the State Department’s don’t travel list ever have heard of Harold’s. Plus the fries (why do they call them chips anyway? Chips are thin and crispy and delicious) were mushy. Mushy fries = no good.
Saint Bernadette supposedly was sick and found The Lord at Lourdes, or some such thing. Maybe it’s all true. We found a grotto—accessable only through a tick-infested trek—which claims to be something special related to Lourdes. Who knows.
It’s pretty cool to watch all the planes with floats instead of wheels. Where we come from, there are no seaplanes. Here they’re everywhere. Kind of like ticks. One landed and taxied in front of us as we ate our world-famous Harold’s fish dinner on the dock. Crazy awesome what you see up here.
We’re not exactly sure where we’re going to end up tomorrow, which isn’t at all unusual. But somehow it all works out.