Here comes the tour bus!

The rain had started again by the time the tour bus rolled into town this morning.  It was 9:40 — about 10 minutes later than expected.  Never mind, I thought. They’re from Northern California — my old stomping grounds — and they’ve been having a rough time lately.  They might not be delighted by the rain, but at least we have power. I’d turned the heat on so they wouldn’t be bothered by the chilly October morning.

But. as it turned out, they weren’t from California after all.  Alberta, Canada!  Wow!  I confessed that I was prepared to tell them about all the connections between Northern California and Oysterville but… Canada?  (I almost asked, “Are you sure?”)  Never mind,  I’ve done the Oysterville tour about a gazillion times.  I could adapt.

One thing I’ll say about Canadians from Alberta — they are stoic to the max.  Only a few slight smiles at my jokes.  No questions or comments when I finished.  The tour guide later told me that this was the last trip her company would be doing to this area.  “We just can’t get large enough groups to sign up,” she said. “There are 27 on this tour but we need 32 just to break even.”

Field Trip Fun

I flashed back to other tour groups — the laughter, the enthusiasm, the eagerness to tell me where they had been and what adventures were still in store.  A lot like the various classes I’d taught during my 40-year tenure as an elementary school teacher. I thought to myself.  Each one different.  This group would take more time than my allotted 50 minutes to warm up.  I felt badly about that.

I wondered briefly if they had any clear idea of where they were… so I asked.  “No. Not really.”  Not for the first time I wished I had a big map.  So I explained about the Long Beach Peninsula being a sand spit that had built up over time at the mouth of the  Columbia River…  how during Oysterville’s first sixty or seventy years we had been dependent upon water transportation… And, of course, I talked about oysters — the kinds we had, the market in the early days etc. etc.  All the while I wondered what they had expected of a stop at Oysterville, Washington, population 15, weather wet.

Walking Tour Brochure

Several people thanked me on their way out of the church.  One man said he had learned a lot about oysters — but not as if bivalve education had been on his bucket list.  I handed each person a Walking Tour brochure thinking that some of the information might be of interest.  “I’m not walking ANYwhere!” one woman informed me.  They climbed aboard their monsterbus once again,  headed over to Oysterville Sea Farms for an oyster shucking demonstration and then to the Cranberry Museum for lunch and a bog tour.

It all reminded me why I’ve seldom even taken so much as a day tour when I’ve been traveling.  It’s the huge chance you take with the group that’s off-putting to me.  I do hope these Canadians  were having a good time but with some tour groups…  you just don’t know.  A lot like chickens in that respect…  hard to tell.