Jennifer Duval

I’m spending this week in Friday Harbor, up on San Juan Island in Washington State. This is a place that Dave once lived and long loved. His cabin here sat on Garrison Bay, which overlooked English Camp and all the history held by that beautiful landscape. We have great memories of visiting Dave there, pulling crab pots out of the Salish Sea from his canoe to make Dungeness Crab salad for dinner; harvesting sea beans to steam on the side and Madrone bark to make herbal tea. He took us to his favorite brewery, not the trendy one visited by the tourists, but the divey one in the shipyard that didn’t advertise anywhere and was full of locals talking about the busy season. He barreled around the Island in his little beater and was thrilled to chat with everyone we met. We hiked and swam, played cards, and sat up talking for hours.

Of course, this is but one of many memories of Dave in the PNW, having known him for 27 years, but it is one of my favorites. He was so alive in those moments. And now he is not. And I am having trouble reconciling that reality. Yesterday I walked along the stony beach across from his cabin and let the salt of my tears mix with that of the Bay. We will miss you, Dave, and your lively spirit. Thank you for sharing the joy of this beautiful part of the world with us- your presence is still felt here.

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Comments

One response to “Dave’s cabin”

  1. Thank you Jennifer. Today would have been his 60th birthday and your memory brought a smile.

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