Black marine deck paint is a beautiful thing: gritty enough to keep one from sliding around when she lays down to nap, and warm with the accumulated heat of the morning sun. The low rumble of the ferry engines churning below deck drowned out all other sounds and lulled me to sleep, wrapped in my sweater, the tip of my nose pleasantly cold in the crisp ocean air.

We got up at 3:30 a.m. and rolled north through the pre-dawn rain and fog, discussing our journeys, sipping tea and coffee as the children dozed, awaiting a grey dawn. It’s more than six hours from Eugene, OR to Port Angeles, WA, and the ferry waits for no man.

We admit to staying up too late. But, who can resist the rare opportunity to make new friends of fellow travelers who have as many kids as we do (albiet, smaller ones)? Between stories of Thanksgivings in Kathmandu, coffee harvest in Yemen and discussion of family life on the road, we found in the Groovers kindred spirits and gentle souls. It was hard to tear ourselves away, even if we knew the three hours remaining must be spent in bed.

Count the starfish!

This part of the country looks very different than the eastern half, where Grammy & Gramps’ island home defines “Canadian” for the children. We passed palm trees growing in the median in downtown Victoria, BC, a few minutes ago. Giant pine trees grow out of elephantine grey rock cliffs that drop away into the sea along the coast. The shoreline is littered with starfish bigger than dinner plates in every shade of orange, burgundy and grey. Grey seals tipped their salty noses in welcome as we chugged into port, sharing the channel with float planes, going and coming.

Ezra was still drooling, face down on the deck, sand paint pock marking his cheek, when I awoke. I lay for a moment with my eyes closed amusing myself by wondering what it says about our family and the nomadic life we live that it seemed entirely reasonable to stretch out in the sun on the black deck of an ocean ferry and sleep off a midnight drive in the midst of a hundred other folks. The engine noise had changed and a bell had rung, interrupting my snooze.

“Gabriel, I fell asleep for half an hour and you changed worlds on me!” I murmured, rubbing the sleep from my eyes and peering over the railing at the shores of Vancouver Island.  He chuckled in return, “Yeah Mom, there was this huge storm, and a vortex, and now we’re on a whole ‘nother planet!” And so it seems. Who can measure the transformative power of a nap.