—by Susan Haas
Gigging in the Pacific Northwest, we often rely on ferries to get to neighboring islands for events. I am booked for a wedding ceremony requiring a two-hour drive followed by a short 20-minute ferry over to Whidbey Island. The wedding is in a state park located close to the ferry dock. I feel confident with my travel plan that allows for two additional sailings before the third that gets me there in time.
As I travel toward the ferry dock, traffic comes to a complete stop miles from the loading zone. I wonder, “Is there a wreck? A bear in the road?” Eventually I exit my van and approach another driver asking, “Do you know why there’s a hold up?” He answers, “This is the line for the ferry. It’s packed today.”
What I don’t know is that two days before the Fourth of July means the ferries are full, and the line for the car ferry is a three-hour wait. This is not uncommon on holiday weekends, but I didn’t plan for this. I turn on the radio only to hear confirmation of the huge delays. The radio announcer advises everyone to plan ahead for holiday ferry travel. A little too late for that.
I start to panic as the urgency of getting to this wedding becomes clear. Failure is not an option. Houston, we have a problem!
I make a harebrained, yet brilliant decision. I get out of the vehicle line and speed forward to the parking lot. A ferry is boarding, so I race to the entry with my long hair and my formal dress flailing. I board the ferry as a foot passenger with my harp on its cart and as much equipment as I can pile on top.
The onlooker comments begin almost immediately. “What is that? A giant blue BBQ mitt for the Fourth?” Ha.
The crew isn’t sure where to place me so they park me in the rear of the car deck area. We are on our way! I’m the only foot passenger among a deck of parked cars heading across the water.
I secure my harp against a metal wall and stalk the vehicles, row by row, seeking a suitable harpmobile. We all know the harp-toting vehicles from Harp Column’s harpmobile review, right?
I politely tap on windows asking “Can you please take me to the state park for a wedding? And, oh, can you fit my harp in the back?” I must have approached 10 drivers and said please, thank you, and maybe even bowed a few times before I found my ferry godmother.
The accommodating driver rearranges her groceries and coolers, and we are able to fit the harp on top of everything. I thank her profusely, and we became fast friends, still staying in touch to this day. She delivers me and my harp to the park with two hours to spare.
Safely set up and ready to play the wedding, my thoughts turn to how I am going to get myself and my harp back to the ferry dock. I engage two kind women at the wedding. I ask them what kind of car they came in. Hatchback? Perfect. If Joanna Newsom can fit a harp in a hatchback, so can I. (Who else remembers that famous Portlandia episode?) I fold myself into the back of their car, bracing the harp body with one hand while holding the rear window down with the other hand as they whisk me to the dock.
I exit their vehicle and unload the harp thankful to have survived my adventure. I’m grateful for each of the women who rescued me today. And I’m aware that when failure is not an option, harpists find solutions. •
