After Snoqualmie Falls we were ridiculously hot–but not in a ‘complaining, itchy, uncomfortable way.’ No, we were hot in a thawed out, wet-all-winter, basking-in-the-goodness sort of way. Our iced mochas languished in the cup holders, a melting puddle of ice and left over chocolate. We decided to find a good old fashion watering hole, so we set out to find the Samamish River. The first place we pulled into was the marina, and inexplicably we got tripped up on a long narrow driveway, behind a long line of boats attached to trucks waiting to get into the water. This was bad news. I became very grumpy and tried to convince Josh to do an illegal move of turning the car around, going backwards on a one way, on the grass in order to avoid the long line. Needless to say, Josh ignored me. Eventually we crept along and got out of the boat line, stopped a park ranger, and asked for directions to a swimming hole.

Samamish River reminds me of the lakes we used to visit growing up in Vancouver: Large, filled with people, parties, kids with floaties, the works. The place was packed but not unbearable. The water was suspiciously murky, filled with green stuff that coiled around our legs as we waded in. Instead of sand, there were rock between our toes. Boats and people on those motorized water scooter-thingies roared around the lake making a ton of annoying noise. The place was not peaceful, but it was sunny and hot, the water felt really good. We found a trail that led to another little beach with real sand, but people had somehow managed to drag their boats up to it, and every few paces you had to avoid someone banging on the stern or fixing a piece of their ship. Josh was working on a really terrific sunburn; I hooked my bra straps under my armpits to try and improve my tank top lines. Josh hiked up his sleeves–something we would have been embarrassed to do in Colorado–and his shoulders started to freckle.

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