Whew!

     It was the biggest, sleekest, most imposing vehicle ever to arrive in Oysterville and here it came yesterday right on time for our agreed upon rendezvous.  I was to meet this busload of 32 in front of the church at high noon, oversee their lunch hour, and then take them on an hour and a half walking trip around Oysterville.
     Well, in reality, my “lunch duty” was extra.  When the initial contact had been made, I was offered one of the box lunches that were being prepared at Bailey’s Café.  Why ever would I say no?  But somehow, agreeing to partake had segued into ‘be at the church to keep watch over the three huge boxes of boxes and the cooler of drinks from delivery time until bus arrival.’  Okay…
     The group was to eat in the church, there being no other convenient place to eat in Oysterville, especially in the event of rain.  And, by the way, could I talk to them during lunch?  So I did.  Which meant, of course, that I postponed eating my own lunch until after the 1:00 to 2:30 walking tour was completed.  So far, so good…
     The trouble was that about half of the group couldn’t walk.  Well, that’s not fair.  They could walk – some with canes, some with assistance from friends or spouses.  But there were many concerns about “how far?” and “will the terrain be even?”  About a third of them chose to go back to the bus and wait until the walking tour was over.
    It all remains very mysterious to me.  They were from California and were scheduled to be on our peninsula for four days.  Yesterday was Day Two.  Their itinerary showed that several other strolling and walking experiences had been planned for them during their stay.  Had they signed up for this trip knowing that there would be walking involved?
     More importantly, had the travel planning folks known that the group would be elderly and with limited abilities?  If so, why hadn’t they factored that into their tour plans?  And why hadn’t I been informed way back in March when I was hired (at a rather modest remuneration – as in they-don’t-pay-me-enough) to take the group on a historic walk through Oysterville?
     I modified the “walk” as much as possible for the intrepid 20 who went with me.  Even so, it was dicey when we took a “short cut” through the tall (shoulder height) grass and were in danger of losing a few very tiny ladies.
     And, too late, I realized that no one had given them any orientation as to their whereabouts.  As we looked out at the bay, one man was persistent in asking me which direction was “downstream.”  It wasn’t until he asked if the water was still salty all the way to Astoria that I realized he had Willapa Bay confused with the Columbia River.  I wished I had a map to show him exactly where we were.
     I actually wished a lot of things…mostly that whoever set up this tour had done it differently.  The people were lovely and the day was bright and sunny.  I should have had a good time.