Saturday started delightfully, became downright elegant, and then finished as stupidly as possible: I watched whales in the sun, sipped wines in the sun, and then slept drunkenly in my car. I don't know if it was my knees' or head's throbbing that woke me up first.
So I shot out to the far side of San Juan Island to see J, K, and L pods all mingling and, hopefully, to see the new baby. Success!
As a bonus, we saw a gray whale on our way back. Minette, who had skewered me all day about the historical superiority of her photos over mine, was listening to her film wind when I snapped this. Yep. They really should put some sort of frame counter on cameras so one doesn't get taken by surprise like that.
Mount Baker was absolutely glorious.
