Right up front, we admit that this post is exceedingly beige. Not up to our usual exciting standards, because not much excitement has come our way since the last post. No submarines. The fire is out. We eluded any Russians who might have followed us from Cashmere what seems like months ago. Dana did make progress on her blanket project and Doug did manage to get a photo of Pleasant Harbor without losing the replacement drone, however, both of which are medium-sized deals to us but pretty meaningless to anyone else.
That storm system that brought cold and drizzle to us last post also dumped snow on the mountains, which requires an updated photo of Mt. Baker.
Carnival Luminosa—on her way to Alaska—met us under Mt. Rainier, which also was blessed with early snowfall.
This time Elliott Bay Marina wasn’t too bad. Better weather helped. Plus, we discovered that an easy mile hike would take us to the restaurants and shops dotting the Magnolia neighborhood. Nice.
Celebrity EDGE also loaded up for yet another trip north, which required a quick drone flight. Frankly, a week jammed onto a floating casino/buffet with 3,000 strangers just sounds awful. To paraphrase Jason at the party where Gib did not sleep with the sure thing, however, the people down there probably think they’re having a good time.
Back to Gig Harbor for Labor Day, an idea that about a zillion other people shared. The place was packed.
Given the nice weather we were able to walk around a bit more than last time. Nothing too crazy to see, but we did stumble upon a statue we previously missed. Although it’s called “The Fisherman,” the plaque is silent on whether someone gave the man the fish or taught him to catch it himself.
Speaking of fish, here’s a hatchery of sorts. They load zillions of salmon eggs into those drums, then release the babies. It doesn’t look very scientific but apparently it works.
Anyway, there we are down at the end of Arabella’s dock.
And here we are in the stream of boats leaving before the tide bottomed out on Labor Day.
The short trip to Tacoma wound through what we must assume is an amazing fishing spot. Boats littered the area like those lobster pots off the coast of Maine. Grrrr.
Speaking of boats, here’s SS Cape Intrepid, currently operated by Military Sealift Command in reserve status. None of that is very interesting, but we include it because the ship was laid down as SS Arizona and we’re from Arizona, which is a mighty fine coincidence.
Then into the Foss Waterway, where ugly tanks welcomed us.
We’ve traveled many waterways. The Trent-Severn Waterway is awesome. The Atlantic Intracoastal Waterway saves mariners from the ocean hazards. The Great Lakes Waterway allowed us to visit Tom and Deb and Skeeter in Hancock. The Thea Foss Waterway is none of that. It’s like a mile-long industrial finger pointed at the Tacoma Dome, with nothing but boats along the shore.
A couple of notes. First, until recently this little cul-de-sac was super polluted. Second, Thea Foss was a Norwegian immigrant whose husband moved her to Tacoma, where—in 1889–she started what became the largest tugboat company on the west coast. History is silent on whether she enjoyed lutefisk tacos like those sold in Poulsbo, but Dock Street Marina at the end of her waterway is nice enough.
Right along the shore by the marina sits the world famous Museum of Glass. The upside-down funnel thing that looks like some sort of chimney in fact is some sort of chimney. Because inside it we found a state-of-the-art hot shop with stadium seating. Now that’s cool.
Not surprisingly, the Museum of Glass is full of glass art.
This is The Salmon School, with hand-blown fish created by artists from multiple countries—yes, including Norway—added to those from the US.
There’s even glass in the pool outside.
To get from the marina to the delicious sushi restaurant and other things you cross the Chihuly Bridge, which—you guessed it—is decorated with Chihuly glass. As we noted last post, Dale Chihuly is a big deal in these parts.
Three weeks ago we’d never heard of Aplets and Cotlets, which means we’d never heard of their battle with Almond Roca over who should be Washington State’s Official Candy. Bizarrely, we’ve now been to the home of both combatants.
Speaking of the Tacoma Dome, here it is, looking a lot like that dome we thought was a sand pile in Marquette. Someone going by the name “Pink”—who apparently is a singer of some sort—was performing there.
America’s Car Museum is across the street from the Dome. Meh. The coolest one was half buried outside in the back.
The last of the museum trifecta was the Washington State History Museum. Surprisingly, it’s way short on Mt. Saint Helens info, despite the fact that the eruption killed 57 people. Not surprisingly, it’s also way short on Ted Bundy and Gary Ridgway info, despite the fact that between them they killed more people than did the volcano. There’s still a bunch of interesting stuff though. For example, who knew that Washington was the Pennsylvania of the west? Also who thought that would be a great marketing strategy?
Woody Guthrie wrote songs about the plight of the downtrodden, like dust bowl refugees and miners who were put upon by the evil bosses of the day. But it turns out Woody also needed money, which led him to write songs extolling the virtues of the Bonneville and Grand Coulee dams despite the human and environmental toll on the Columbia River Valley. The Bonneville Power Administration paid him $10 per song to “make people in the Pacific Northwest appreciate the work of the BPA and value the concept of public power.” To our knowledge, he never wrote songs glorifying Pennsylvania dams.
Washington claims the Dick and Jane books, by noting that the author—Elizabeth Montgomery—“was one of several authors . . . who moved to Washington for creative inspiration.” The most interesting thing about this isn’t the tenuous connection, or the notion that “see Dick run” is particularly creative; the most interesting thing is that Tabitha’s mother wrote books.
All along we thought the Schoens started U-Haul in Phoenix, home of its current headquarters. The museum says it was Washington. The U-Haul website suggests the first trailer was offered in Portland. Hmmm. Everyone seems to agree, however, that in 1907 two teenagers started UPS in a Seattle basement.
Maybe the museum skips the serial killers, but there’s a pretty big exhibit on Boeing, which also legitimately started in Seattle. The exhibit is solid, but these are difficult times for the aerospace giant. The Starliner is a colossal bust, and as we hit the post button the machinist union literally is counting the votes that will determine if a strike starts at midnight tonight.
Our plan had been to leave Tacoma and visit Olympia as soon as Dana returned from her girls’ trip to Napa last Sunday. The plan didn’t include her testing positive for Covid, quarantining in Phoenix, and leaving Doug and Sammy to care for themselves. But that’s what happened.
The obvious question is why this post is so lame if Dana is laid up in quarantine and Doug is killing time waiting in Tacoma. Easy. As August led into September, pigskins filled the air on campuses across the country. Football time is the best time.* Football season requires hours of reading about the upcoming weekend, hours watching games, and hours reading about the games that just took place. Not a lot of spare time.
Tomorrow things take a nice turn when Brad and Kate arrive from Wyoming. Wooo! Dana will meet everybody in Poulsbo on Monday. Wooo!
——————
* Thanks to the abomination that is realignment, for the first time in history Doug’s Volunteers and Dana’s Longhorns are competing in the same conference. This theoretically could cause familial discord, but fortunately only one of us has an unhealthy emotional obsession with the performance of college kids.
