Exhausted from family revelry though we were, we made some time to work in a little more of Seattle. First up, the Space Needle, aka Dr. Evil’s Starbucks Lair. Built for the 1962 World’s Fair, the 605-foot iconic landmark looms above the city like a flying saucer. But let’s be real. Knoxville’s Sunsphere—centerpiece of the 1982 World’s Fair—offers views of Neyland Stadium and the Tennessee River and costs only $5 to enjoy. Far superior. The Space Needle charges $40. We didn’t pay the $40, but here it is.
Next up, Chihuly Garden and Glass. Dale Chihuly arguably is the greatest glass artist of our time. We’ve enjoyed his exhibits at the Phoenix Botanical Garden, but Seattle is home to the largest permanent collection of his work. Perhaps that’s because he was born near Seattle, attended college in Seattle, and founded an internationally-acclaimed glass-blowing school near Seattle. Whatever. His glass is spectacular.
One last tidbit. Bell Harbor Marina is at historic Pier 66. Pier 66 is located on what was the site of a camp called Muck-muck-wum before the wheels of progress ran smack over the Duwamish Indians who lived there. It’s possible, of course, that the Duwamish weren’t even that upset at losing their land. “Muck-muck-wum” doesn’t sound very pleasant. Anyway, we docked at Bell Harbor.
Sometime during the night before we left, an apartment building named Norwegian Sun pulled into Pier 66. Hmmm. Norway again. Wonder if they serve lutefisk tacos on the trip up to Alaska.
Here’s another lighthouse, although there’s no point. Seriously. It’s the Point No Point Light, out on Point No Point. Built in 1879, it’s the oldest lighthouse on Puget Sound. For $250 per night, the former lightkeeper’s residence is available to rent. Two night minimum. No pets allowed, but if you’re into driftwood this might be the place for you.
Then back into Port Ludlow for a quick one-nighter.
Lulu the duck wasn’t around this time, but Doug popped up to the Port Ludlow Yacht Club to meet some of the local boaters. Dale—the incoming Commodore—was tending the bar. Dale’s wife Kathleen is unwilling to be “co-Commodore” like our own Mauri Miner, so she’s going with “Commadorable.” Cute. Nice folks up at the clubhouse.
As we’ve previously noted, the trip to and from our Pleasant Harbor slip goes past Naval Base Kitsap, home to most of the country’s Trident submarines. The world’s largest collection of armed nuclear warheads sits right there. This time through, nice fellows on a Coast Guard patrol boat stopped by to tell us to move over because a sub was heading our way. Since one dude actually was manning the machine gun—and since they stayed about thirty feet off our port side until they were satisfied that even with our Coast Guard mandated flare gun and vicious chihuahua we didn’t pose much of a threat—we figured they meant business.
Wooo! Our first submarine in the wild! The only bad thing is that we wasted lines from The Hunt for Red October that time we posted about the British sub we saw in a pen at Kings Bay Submarine Base in Georgia. No pings, Visaly, but this was way cooler.
Despite a solid effort we were unable to identify the submarine. Probably on purpose. The ship guarding her, however, is USNS Arrowhead, a 250-foot Submarine and Special Warfare Support Vessel that has more and bigger artillery than that little range boat.
As we approached Pleasant Harbor, the 2620 Road Fire was busily burning up the side of the Mount Jupiter foothills. These fires are so sad. This one was less than five miles from our spot at the marina, but between the prevailing wind direction and the periodic whomp-whomp-whomp of the helicopters, we figured to be pretty safe.
Unfortunately for us but fortunately for the good folks fighting the fire, cold and drizzle settled in.
As fun as it is to sit inside a boat for a few cold and drizzly days, however, it’s really not that fun. So on Another Pleasant Harbor Sunday,* we decided to go see Leavenworth. What’s the point of leaving a truck at our marina unless we use it?
Leavenworth— deep along the Cascade Loop—is the wurst place we’ve been all summer. Bratwurst. Liverwurst. Weisswurst. Curry Wurst. Knackwurst. Yuck. Leavenworth is a “Bavarian Village,” however, so we guess it makes sense.**
In addition to German food and bad “wurst” puns, Leavenworth has the Nutcracker Museum, which we visited from just outside the rope with the “$5 entry” sign. Cool place. Nutcrackers dating to the 1700s. All things nutcracker related were available from the museum gift shop. Dana snagged a puzzle.
In keeping with the whole “Bavaria” thing, Leavenworth also has several places selling authentic Black Forest cuckoo clocks. The big clock in town, however, appeared to be broken. No clockworks. No bird.
We did find a house, however, that some folks might find a little cuckoo.
Yesterday’s sunshine allowed a stroll to and along the Wenatchee River, which was a superhighway for moving logs down to local sawmills back in the early timber days. Pilings dating to those days still stick up here and there.
Nowadays, the Wenatchee River mostly irrigates apple orchards. We found miles of them stretched across the plains as we approached Cashmere, where we wanted to check out the sweaters.
Turns out Cashmere isn’t famous for sweaters after all. Nope, Cashmere’s claim to fame is Aplet and Cotlet production.
We’d never heard of Aplets and Cotlets before, but they have quite a following in the apple-producing part of Washington. Made semi-famous at that same 1962 World’s Fair that gave us the Space Needle, at one point Aplets and Cotlets almost were Washington’s official candy but then the equally-powerful lobby from the Almond Roca region defeated the movement.
Liberty Orchards in Cashmere is the only place making these things, so of course we stopped in to try some. Um, no thanks. In the battle for official candyhood, put us on Team Almond Roca.
Can’t get much more patriotic than Washington, apples, and Liberty Orchards, right? Wrong! Liberty Orchards is owned by Russians. True fact. Every penny they make probably goes straight to Putin and his evil war machine. Hell, the factory workers probably spy on our submarines in their off time. Team Almond Roca? More like Team America, we say.
Dana did buy some good looking wafers and chocolate bars from Liberty Orchards, however, never bothering to look at the fine print. Outrageous.
So Cashmere has Russian spies, soon-to-expire Russian chocolate, and modern apartments, but not much else.
Peshastin Pinnacles State Park sits along the road between Leavenworth and Cashmere. The one of us with four legs wasn’t up for the full hike around but we did make it through one of the more picturesque gates you’ll find at a park entrance.
Today we bounced back to Pleasant Harbor to prep for our last month aboard. Nothing exciting about that. One last thing about Pleasant Harbor though. One evening we went up to the restaurant to investigate the melodious harmonies drifting down towards Tumbleweed. The band Mother, Daughter, and a Dude Named Greg was playing old country and bluegrass. Awesome. The best of all the acts we’ve seen up here.***
Chores tomorrow, long day to Seattle on Thursday.
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* “Hey, hey, we’re the Monkees.”
** Truth be told, Leavenworth, Washington, isn’t really in Bavaria. After the sawmills closed, the town was sliding through hard times until the 1960s, when a revitalization committee hit upon the theme as a way to attract tourist dollars. Now there’s a strict building code that allows only slight variations on that theme. Autumn leaves, Oktoberfest, Christmas, and seasonal festivals attract visitors all year, so apparently it’s working.
*** Okay, that probably isn’t the band’s actual name, but we arrived on the scene after they started playing so don’t know for certain. What we do know for certain is that it was a mother, her daughter, and a dude named Greg, and that they were fabulous.