We recently visited friends on your visually stunning and emotionally soothing island. In getting to and from the island, the ferry staff were amazing. In spite of being an obvious newcomer, staff always gave me a friendly smile or nod to indicate a job well done - in spite of what was obviously a slow and nervous attempt to follow their directions. When leaving the island, we were warned to get to the landing early. It turned out that as an hour and a half was not early enough. We did catch the second ferry but only by four cars and after three hours of being parked on the downhill slope of the road. I write fiction, not poetry or songs, but I started the following hopefully humorous lyrics while waiting in that line. Dedicated, in the spirit of light-hearted fun, to all Cortes Island residents, this ode is for you. It's called:

The Cortes Island Ferry Blues

Jenny’s waitin’ at home
Sittin’ in the kitchen all alone
Stew’s already simmered dry,
Wondering’ what happened to her guy

She’s heard nothin’ from me,
so her ear’s glued to the news
My poor Jenny’s got
the Cortes Island Ferry Blues

Me, I’m parked on an incline.
With a trunk full of 80 degree wine
Been here four hours - might even be five.
Waitin’ to get on that floating ferry “dive”.

All I can do is snooze.
My phone is dead,
I’ve got
the Cortes Island Ferry Blues.

The first boat loaded only twenty,
'cause of a lane-filling huge RV
And several trailer-towing pickups.
Some might say it's a major “truck” up.
(Me, I might say something else.)

The ferry master don’t know what to do.
Even he’s got
the Cortes Island Ferry Blues.

The second ferry in, gets stuck.
Dropped a propeller or some such luck.
When the workers finally get it running.
I’m just lying on my hood, sunning,

Thinking, why do I take this abuse.
I must have
the Cortes Island Ferry Blues

I’ve made my third trip downhill for a piss.
A single seater, that’s all there is.
Stood in line, legs crossed each time,
satisfying a hundred folks takes time.

They could all use some good news
They all got
the Cortes Island Ferry Blues

I’m second in line when ferry 3 arrives,
But the ferry-woman’s hand's held high.
Her other hand points to a shed by the dock .
A display reads four minutes past six o’clock.

She leans in my window, a sad smile on her face
I’m sure you know the rules of this place.
Ferries stop running at 6 on the dot.
I can’t respond, ‘cause I’m in shock.

See you tomorrow, says ferry-woman Jules.
It’s after six, and the rules are the rules.
I’m heading home for dinner with my Jock.
See you tomorrow. I hope you sleep like a rock.

I get out of the car in search of a phone,
So I can tell Jenn I won't make it home.
But the truth is, we won't be alone
It will be just like I'm already home,

Our souls bonded tight as super glues
Bound together with
the Cortes Island Ferry Blues

Copyright 2024 by Bruce A Hanson (formalities)
If you enjoyed this piece of fun, feel free to copy and send to friends. I just ask that you send my name with it. My email i:s bruceahanson.authorgmail.com