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Pender Lodge
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We wanted to get away, we needed to get away.
My ex-wife, a criminal defense lawyer, was embroiled in the usual bullshit and I was caring for our daughter during the summer and doing the requisite home maintenance. I was an English teacher and dreading the return to my bullshit in the Fall, which was rapidly approaching.
Our departure date was not set due to trials going on, so we had to play it by ear. We were looking at Pender Island, one of the Canadian Gulf Islands, north of the San Juan Islands.
We found a motel in Bedwell Harbor on Pender and booked it for three nights.
This was an entry port to Canada with an active customs house in the summer with many pleasure boaters.
The place had a restaurant and pool and was quite comfortable although a little too active for us.
I actually ran into people I knew at the pool and this is a remote island.
Our room was up on the third floor with a balcony. I took a shower and was drying off when I stepped on to the balcony and looked to my right, seeing about twenty five people dining and staring at me naked on the balcony.

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