Image: Ted Strutz.
The lineup for the vehicular ferry was long.
In the car, there was a sense of expectation. It was Grandad’s 90th birthday, and we were excited to see him.
He lived out on the island, and the only access was the ferry. He’d been a fisherman all his life and had long dreamed of retiring to the island to relax and forget about the world which he saw as nothing but a whole bunch of trouble.
Once the traffic line started moving it wasn’t long before we found ourselves driving onto the ferry, the last one onboard.
I liked to get out of the car and watch the island coming closer, thinking Grandad would be there on the jetty expecting us.
As the ferry neared the island I could see him, a tall man, bushy beard and gum boots, he always wore gum boots, standing looking to see who was coming to visit him today.
“Happy birthday Grandad,” I said throwing my arms around him.