Notes from Washington State

The thing with domestic vacations is that mom feels the need to call me all the time to make sure I'm alive. She feels the need to do that when I'm out of the country, as well, but she doesn't have a reasonable expectation that I'll get back to her. But when I'm in the country, I have to fight her on this issue.

Vacation, for me, is a chance to get away from everything. It's a vacation from my routine, from my whiny cat (who's been driving me up the wall since the minute I got back), from being connected. To the extent that I'll check e-mail when I get the chance, it's to clear my inbox and maybe touch base with a few people. I don't want to keep checking in regularly with anyone.

That said, I do normally call my parents before I leave, but that pre-trip morning was bananas. So I called from the Milwaukee airport, after we stopped at a bakery/deli. That served vegan black-bean chili. Did you catch that? An airport restaurant in the Cheese-head state serves vegan chili. But I digress.

Mom: What? Huh. I thought you weren't leaving until later in the week.
A.: I did send you my itinerary.
Mom: Well, I didn't realize you were leaving today.
A.: Well, I've left.
Mom: Call me when you get there.
A.: It's going to be late when I get there.
Mom: Call me anyway.
A.: No.
Mom: What's wrong with you? Why can't you just call me?
A.: Because I need to focus on getting the car and getting to our hotel. I can call you in the morning if you insist.
Mom: Better call tonight.
A.: I won't.
Mom: Fine.

I called the next morning.

Mom: Where are you?
A.: Still in the hotel...
Mom: What hotel?
A.: The hotel we're staying in.
Mom: Oh. Okay. Well, be safe. And call me from time to time so I don't worry.
A.: How about you just don't worry?

That was that, for the time being. We drove around the Olympic Peninsula, saw, as Jason would say, "some cool $hit," including the world's largest sitka spruce.
There wasn't a cloud in the sky. We hiked by Lake Quinault, by Kalaloch Beach,
and in the mossy Hoh Rainforest. We stewed in the Sol Duc hot springs and hiked out to the nearby waterfall.


My phone rang as we approached Hurricane Ridge, but I was driving, and by the time I parked, back in the National Park, I had no signal. I was paradoxically annoyed at my mother; paradoxically, because she was making me worry, and yet I knew that there was no reason to worry. See, I thought, "why is she calling me? I'd only call her on vacation in an emergency? Is there an emergency? No, of course not! It's mom, she wouldn't only call in an emergency." But I was annoyed that she made me wonder whether there was an emergency.

We hiked along Hurricane Ridge,



with flowers all around us on the trail,
and wasps--more than I'd ever seen in my life--at our feet the whole time. They were, mercifully, not aggressive. There was still some snow on the trail, which brought home how high up we were, in case it wasn't clear from looking around. From one spot, we could see Vancouver Island.

Hours later, down from the trail and out of the park, I called mom back. She just wanted to check in, and asked me to call again soon. We drove on to Port Townsend, a very cute town with lots of historic houses. We stayed at a bed and breakfast, where my option (in addition to fruit) was a massive plate of vegan, whole-wheat pancakes. They were amazing--the non-vegans liked them, too. Did I tell you that I'd made some really good waffles (using Bob's Red Mill buckwheat mix, soy milk, and some flax eggs)? It really does work.

After breakfast, we went over to the farmer's market, which was amazing--beautiful vegetables (sorry DC farmers' markets--your stuff just doesn't look that good). I would have actually gotten some of it, had I thought it would keep. Then, we were off to Fort Warden, where we took in a great view from the tower in the lighthouse and had come to appreciate the apparent complexity of the Fresnel lens, since the waiting room for going up to the tower was showing a very scientific documentary about it. The volunteer guides said that it used to be much more general interest, but now they've replaced it with something you need at PhD to understand. On the way up, one of the guides asked whether Margo and I were sisters, because, she said, we looked so much alike. Margo figured that might have been her polite way of asking whether we were a lesbian couple.

From Port Townsend, we drove down to Gig Harbor, by way of some antique shops in Port Orchard. Margo's really into antiques, me, not so much... and yet, once there, I ended up buying more stuff than she did. I got this fierce pair of practically new, bright red Aldo boots.
I had to do it, in spite of the ladies in the shop, who weren't doing a very good job selling them.

Margo: They fit?? You have to get them.
A.: Where would I wear them?
Shop lady #1: Maybe Halloween?

Then, at the checkout:

A.: They're so soft inside.
Shop lady #2: That's good. Because outside, they're practically plastic.

Boots in hand, we left for Gig Harbor, where we dined on the water at this place recommended to us by some people we talked to at the Port Townsend Farmer's Market. The food was pretty good, but the view was phenomenal.
As in Port Townsend, the yards all over town were beautifully landscaped. Much of the residential areas were on a hill leading away from the water, so you could see the harbor and the mountains in the distance.
There were blackberry shrubs everywhere. I couldn't believe there were so many blackberries that no one was picking (I would pick a bag-full before we left).
We learned on San Juan Island that they were invasive to the area, but I wasn't sure if that was just on the island. In the farm store on the hill, there were chicks for sale, BOGO. The Rhode Island Reds were especially adorable.

On our second day in town, I drove Margo to the wedding she was going to and came back to walk the trails and pick blackberries. Afterward, I sat by the pool and read. Mom called.

Mom: What are you up to?
A.: Not much. Just picked some blackberries--they're all over the place here.
Mom: Ooooh. I wonder why that is.
Dad: Maybe it needs to be cold for blackberries.
A.: You'd really like it here--lots of beautiful forest.

We chatted for a bit.

Mom: Okay, call again soon.
A.: Mom, I'm not going to call you every day.
Mom: Why not?
A.: Because?
Mom: I want to hear about your trip.
A.: You can hear about it when I get back.
Mom: You'll forget the details. You'll have forgotten about the blackberries, and I'm really glad you told us about the blackberries.

And so on.

The next morning, we set out for San Juan Island, not bothering to check the ferry schedule. With timing we couldn't have managed if we'd done more planning, we caught the late 11:55 just in time.
We had lunch at this awesome Mediterranean place, checked in to our B&B on a houseboat, and drove around the island. We chatted with the local camel, fed her airline pretzels from our hands. It tickled.

We walked around Roche Harbor, past cool sculptures and perfectly clear water. We drove on to Lime Kiln State Park, where I saw that I had a message, and checked it before I saw that my phone thought I was in Canada. It was my mom. She was just saying hi, and let me know that I could call back, if I wanted to. I didn't, partly out of principle, partly because I had nothing to say.

We walked down to the water, where people were sitting and looking out at the sea. We walked on toward the light house, where a woman and her daughter were walking.

Woman: They were seen not far from here; they're coming this way.
A.: They...
[Pause]
A.: The whales??
Woman: The whales. They should be here soon.

Inside the information center in the then-closed lighthouse, we saw on a chalkboard when and where the whales were last sighted, and which direction they were going. We waiting around for a bit, but the whales stood us up, so we headed on to a different beach, and then back to Friday Harbor.

The whales stood us up the next day, too, on our kayaking trip, and the next day, on the ferry to Orcas Island. Apparently, they're a common sight in the summer, but by September, it's more 50-50. We didn't see whales, but we did see some neat marine life on the pier--starfish, shrimp, anemones, jellyfish.
We also saw some neat land life: before departing for Orcas Island, we made some stops on San Juan to see the alpacas and the lavender farm.



Orcas was amazing. Had we known, we would have planned for more time there. The views from Mt. Constitution were stunning-- You can actually see Vancouver city from the top--and there are lakes below you can swim in. I actually took a quick dip in the sea off of San Juan Island right after our kayaking trip, but for less than a minute--the water was very cold. I knew it would be--whenever we stopped along the way and grabbed onto bull kelp to keep still, it was so cold I had to keep switching hands.

I would have liked to hike more in Moran State Park, but we were already cutting it close with the ferry and had to head back. We got there just in time, and headed for the mainland, taking in the sea and surrounding mountains before our landscape became highway. After a nice dinner in sunny Seattle--with no idea how un-sunny the mid-Atlantic was at the time--and checked in to our hotel and sorted our stuff into a form that we could carry back home. I was glad I had lots of crosswords, because I'd managed to end up with a not-very-good book for the return trip. I finished "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo" within a few days of the trip, and then the New Yorker. I remember thinking I more enjoyed--and learned more about European philosophy from--this short article than from this excuse for a novel, which some people apparently loved. I don't even know if I'll finish it. After all, "Bossypants" beckons.