A large building houses several private restrooms and two pay showers. Fifty cents for three minutes of hot water? Yes, I will happily fork it over. With my pocket full of quarters and a bounce in my step, I walk into the shower room and prepare for six whole minutes of hot deluge.
Inserting my quarters and grinning into the spigot like people in shampoo commercials, I am doused by a flood of the coldest water imaginable. As I jam the handle into the "hot" position, my predicament doesn't change. Now I am wet, dirty, cold, and out two quarters. I will not return in filth and disgrace; I will be clean! The worst shower of my life follows, but the dirt has left me and I am in no humor to stay at Cape Disappointment. I begin to suspect these showers had something to do with the name of the place.
Our destination is less than five miles away, and within a few minutes we are backing into our new spot at the Sou'Wester Lodge and RV park. We haven't stayed at many private RV parks, but this one is just too good to pass up.
On the other side of a lane lives a fleet of vintage trailers that are rented out like cabins. Most are unrestored and a wonderful window into the past.
My eyes get as big as saucers as I dart between trailers, leaving a trail of drool behind me, incoherently mumbling things like "Hehr standard windows and frosted glass jalousies."
Over the next few days, I will be giving photo tours of some of them.
Hubs and I drive into town to see what there is to see. We are lured inside Marsh's Free Museum for a glimpse of Jake the Alligator Man.
Museum is possibly not the proper word for this place. It is overflowing with cheap tchotchke, while items of interest are nailed to the walls and ceiling. Old curiosities are interspersed with shelves laden with Alligator Man shot glasses and saltwater taffy.
This device plays eleven instruments at once.
We indulge in a small bag of taffy and go back to pick up pugs. When we return, there is a couple unhitching their adorable Airstream Bubble. I don't use the term adorable very often, but this camper looks like you could just stick it in your pocket. It was built in 1958 and has my absolute favorite features in an Airstream: the door-in-a-door, whale tail (the design of the rear end-cap), and a 14-panel front end-cap. I have to continually remind myself that it would be too small to be practical for us, and we already have an Airstream.
The owners are retired and have refurbished and sold about a dozen small vintage campers over the last ten years. We exchange tours of our campers, but I am in too much of a covetous fog to remember my camera.
This is a rather unusual beach. There once was no continuous highway running the length of the 28-mile peninsula, so the sand was turned into a road, and people are allowed to drive on the beach to this day.
That means no off-leash time for Otis and Murray, but they seem content to sit and watch the seagulls with us.