Category: Pacific Northwest 2024

The most important thing is that Brad and Kate arrived for a few days of zany frivolity.  Actually the most important thing is that Dana survived her bout with Covid and returned to the boat in Poulsbo, but the Brad and Kate thing was the first most important thing.  They jumped aboard in Tacoma and we zipped over to Gig Harbor to get things started.

It’s hard to play games without Dana—Sammy lacking opposable thumbs and all—so the rest of us walked over to the Harbor History Museum.

Very neat little place.  The main topic seemed to be the Tacoma Narrows Bridge collapse, which we’ve previously referenced and which might be the biggest thing to ever happen in the area.  Here’s some twisted steel from that day in 1940 when “Galloping Gertie” drew her last breath.  Uff da.

Plenty of other historical stuff in there as well, generally starting with the dawn of civilization—meaning when early pioneers ran off the natives—continuing through the age of fishing, and up to the current tourism.

Those early pioneers had to entertain themselves, and what better way than the old “round rock” competition?  Seriously, they gave prizes for the “roundest rock.”  Uff da.

In 1925, Gig Harbor shipbuilders put together Shenandoah, a trawler destined to work in Alaska and the San Juans.  She’s now being restored to former glory at the museum.

Here’s the Midway Schoolhouse, built in 1893 at a cost of $135.

They’ve faithfully included all of the furniture and equipment that predated the school’s closure in 1941, right down to the color monitor showing interviews with some of the former pupils.

Then up to Poulsbo, past Naval Underwater War Center Division Kitsap.  More on that later.  Nothing too interesting from the water.

As we’ve previously noted, Poulsbo claims a rich Norwegian heritage.  Unlike, say Leavenworth and its bogus Bavarian shtick, Poulsbo is legit.  The giant Norseman (photo credit to Kate Mead) and the “Velkommen til Poulsbo” signs prove it.

Also, if Poulsbo wasn’t a true Scandinavian town, would we be able to keep making visitors put on Viking helmets with horns?

We started off at the end of F Dock but the marina was remodeling and made us move to the breakwater, where our old seal friends from Poulsbo were hanging out.

If we hadn’t moved we’d also have missed out on Virgil, which may be the smallest trawler we’ve ever seen.

Now back to NUWC, which is home to the Naval Undersea Museum.  The submarine sail on the left came from the fast-attack submarine USS Sturgeon, and was specially reinforced so it could be used as an ice breaker.  Which is way cooler than those dumb games where strangers in a group have to tell each other their favorite food and most embarrassing item of clothing.

Now this is one awesome museum.  Torpedo development through the years, submarine command centers, and the workings of Trident MIRV warheads are just a few of the awesome exhibits.

Uff da indeed.

Anyway, Poulsbo never fails.  It’s extra fun when Dana returns and can walk Sammy on empty streets under a full moon.

After Poulsbo we headed down to Port Orchard.  Not because there’s another cornhole tournament, but because Brad and Kate wanted to see the aircraft carrier.  Passing Puget Sound Naval Shipyard we spotted not one, not two, but at least SIX of our twenty-four Los Angeles-class nuclear attack submarines.  Crazy.  We could identify USS Jacksonville, USS Pittsburgh, and USS Oklahoma (and the recently decommissioned USS Providence), but the others are back there as well.  Combined with the Ohio-class deterrent subs with their Trident nuclear warheads over on the Hood Canal, there’s enough firepower within ten miles of Bremerton to destroy the entire world.  Uff da.

Our old seal friends from Port Orchard were hanging out when we arrived.  No river otters to be seen, because they’re all being trapped and killed after one dragged a child off a dock last week.  True story.

Did we mention how much we enjoy spending time with Brad and Kate?  Great folk, those two.

With Dana back aboard finally we were able to ramp up the competition a bit.  Although we easily handled Brad and Kate in Code Names and Kate waxed all of us in Paper Cuts, we don’t consider Brad a loser.  No losers on our boat.

Sadly, yesterday we dropped the Meads off in Des Moines.  We intended to get a photo of them before they left the boat, but we forgot.  Then we intended to get a photo of them while they were waiting for their Uber after a delicious last lunch at Wally’s Chowderhouse, but we forgot.  Then they left, and we cruised up to Bainbridge Island.

Bainbridge Island is both an island and a town.  And what looks to be a secret ferry burial ground.

The main commercial district is about what we expected.  Full of cute shops and restaurants and such.  Heck, there’s even a Dana’s.

There’s some unexpected interesting stuff around here too.  For example, our Uber guy stopped us by a labyrinth “that uses color, symbols, patterns, and numerology in the design created from stones found on Bainbridge Island beaches.”  We didn’t have time for the “reflection” and “meditation” promised by the designer, but here it is anyway.

As we referenced back at the Nakashima Barn, after the attack on Pearl Harbor FDR wasn’t shy about rounding up and imprisoning Americans of Japanese descent.  On March 30, 1942, soldiers marched 227 of them down a path, off a dock, and onto ships, all at gunpoint.  Probably not our finest hour as a country.

The path they marched is pretty, and pretty sobering.

But who are we kidding here?  The main point of Bainbridge Island is the Stover residence, located 3743 Pleasant Beach Drive.

Because the Stovers now own the property where—in 1965—three dads cobbled together a game using a whiffle ball, ping pong paddles, and a badminton court.  Yup, pickleball was invented right there on Pleasant Beach Drive.  The original court they used still is there, although they’ve obviously upgraded the net.  Now this, this is awesome.

Tomorrow we start the last leg of the summer.  We’re excited to welcome Tom and Deb to share it with us.  Wooo!

 

A few days ago the Seattle Times literally announced that this past Wednesday would be the last pretty day UNTIL NEXT SPRING!  Nothing drives us off the boat faster than the threat of only cold and rain as far as these things can be predicted.  So tonight we’re in Twin Falls, Idaho.  Halfway home.  Time to catch up with the final blog post until we start Tumbleweed’s Great Alaska Expedition next May.

When we last posted, we were on Bainbridge Island.  Remember that cool photo of the original pickleball court?  But we couldn’t stay on Bainbridge Island forever, because (1) there’s no place on the island to store Tumbleweed, and (2) Tom and Deb were meeting us in Des Moines.  Wooo!  Nothing but gloom along the way.  Booo!

But as the great Jim Croce observed, sometimes skies are cloudy, and sometimes skies are blue.  Just like that the clouds disappeared.  Ok technically not all the clouds disappeared, but the gray ones did.

Which is a good thing because we promised our guests clear warm skies and loads of fun.  They rolled in right on time, which allowed for a nice walk through the woods to the water treatment plant and back.

We even treated them to a decent sunset.

As previously noted, Tom is Danish and Deb is Finnish and since all of those Scandinavian countries basically are the same we figured they’d enjoy Poulsbo.  On previous trips up we’d noticed the charted “Deperming Ranges,” but we figured they probably had something to do with curly hair and wouldn’t affect us.  Plus we were too lazy to research them.  This time we made time.  Turns out these ranges are where Naval Base Kitsap demagnetizes submarines to hide them from magnetic detection sensors and magnetic mines.  Which means it would make much more sense to call them “Demagnetizing Ranges,” but whatever.  We passed through them unfazed.

Obviously the first order of business in Poulsbo was the now-traditional photo of visitors in silly Viking helmets.

And also the now-traditional stop for goodies from Sluy’s.

On our hike around town we passed a nice looking lady offering a price break on tarot readings and Reiki.  Shockingly to the two of us who returned to the boat to watch football, the other two of us stopped and patronized the joint.  Except for the fact that he recently died, the Amazing Randi—one of Doug’s heroes—would be disgusted.  RIP Randi.

The band at the pavilion played the kind of music Tom and Deb like and not the kind we like, but the ice cream made it tolerable.

Ok, this is new.  Insane Clown Posse?  Little Orphan Annie convention?  Five women who lost the same bet?

Poulsbo is where that cute lil seal popped up by the kayak.  This probably isn’t the same one, but we can’t be sure.

On the way down to Gig Harbor, Rainier showed us a new face, this one with a familiar comb-over.   The UFO cloud was an added bonus.

Speaking of seals, this one welcomed us back to Arabella’s.

Kind of a quick stop in Gig Harbor, but time enough to spot a couple of new things.  Black Dog!  Maybe someday Black Dog Bikinis will have a corporate sailboat.

How cool would it be to be The Finest Citizen?  According to the plaque, Lee Makovich had six kids, was a big deal in the fishing world, and was a school board member.  The first of those simply suggests virility.  The latter two might make him a fine citizen, but the finest?  Seems more likely that one of those six kids wound up on the plaque committee.

We’d planned for a leisurely breakfast, a leisurely cruise over to Des Moines, and the traditional leisurely lunch at Wally’s before Tom and Deb caught their flight back to Scottsdale.  But then we got up and looked at the weather.  Exactly two days of decency before the wind and rain arrived.  Sorry Tim and Deb.  If we’re going to get to Anacortes in two days, no time to dilly dally.

Another face of Rainier, this time without the silly hairpiece.

Basically we stopped at Des Moines just barely long enough to push Tom and Deb onto the dock.  No Wally’s.  As always, we greatly enjoyed their company.  We won’t publish all of the meaningful results, but Deb won the practice game.

Fortunately the wind and waves cooperated after we left Des Moines and headed north.

Unfortunately, we had another eight hours.  The sun was setting by the time we turn in by the giant white pumpkin.

Actually, that’s not a giant white pumpkin at all.  It’s a Navy something or other.  This entire part of Whidbey Island is one huge Naval base, which we learned when the nice guy on the boat next to us rushed out to tell Doug to bring the drone back asap.  The dude was on the team that designed the Navy’s automated drone capture system—which detects and seizes even innocent drones like ours—and he knew ours was just a few feet below becoming a goner.  Only Doug’s judicious use of an altitude ceiling prevented a third and final drone disaster.

Whoever named these floating port-o-potties deserves a raise.

Right outside Oak Harbor Marina stands a statue honoring all the topless women anxiously waiting for their fishermen husbands to return from sea.

Anyway, Oak Harbor is a cute enough town, although the only oaks we saw were on the mural.

The next morning was foggy enough to be dangerous, but not quite so foggy as to make us regret having previously used up all our fog puns.  The fog hovered well below the top of Mt. Baker, which looked cool enough but wouldn’t have been much help if an inattentive fisherman speeding back to his topless woman crashed into us.

The fog cleared well before we reached Anacortes, however, which allowed us to enjoy the start of fall.  Also, the women waiting for their men in Anacortes are either more modest or less fun than their Oak Harbor counterparts.

And there, the enjoyable part of the summer ended.  Rain and cold all the way to Pleasant Harbor to retrieve the truck and rain and cold most of the way back, although the clouds sort of parted just long enough for a photo of Deception Pass from the bridge and a rainbow from the road.

More rain and wind and cold while we organized and packed and loaded, barely leaving us a window for hotdogs.

The summer started in Blaine and ended in Anacortes, with lots of cool stuff along the way.  Pacific Northwest cruising is nothing like East Coast cruising.  No rivers.  No locks.  Very few bridges.  Deep water.  Beautiful scenery.  Fun times with friends and family.  Not better or worse, but different.

Here’s the final leg.

The last note relates to the haul out.  This was new.  Basically you drive up on a trailer just like we did with ski boats.  In Tumbleweed it’s terrifying, but we made it.

Happy Halloween, Happy Thanksgiving, Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year.  We’ll be back in seven months.

We can’t see the future but we know it’s coming fast.  So although we’re not quite yet fleeing the Nazis like the von Trapp family did, we are putting the boating life on hold in anticipation of the impending uncertainty of certain chaos.  Our plan to cruise to Alaska is yesterday’s news, and yesterday’s news is old news.

You know the line about the happiest two days of your life being the day you buy a boat and the day you sell that boat?  Not true.  We loved Misty Pearl and hated selling her; we love Tumbleweed and hate selling her.  In fact, it’s all that we can do to keep from crying, because she’s gonna be a hard act to follow.  But we know that the sun’s settin’ fast, and just like they say, nothing good ever lasts.  That’s the way that the world goes ’round.

No need to worry about us though.  There’s lots of pretty thoughts that we ain’t yet thunk.  Plus, gettin’ by on gettin’ by’s our stock in trade.  We’re letting it roll, letting the high times carry the low, just living our life easy come, easy go.

Long-time followers know how much we relish Canada, the True North proud and free.  With glowing hearts this summer we’re going to explore more of it, including spots unreachable by boat.  There’s lots of things along the road we’d surely like to see.  Metaphorically speaking, there’s gold in them hills and it’s waiting there for us, out where the lonesome wind blows on the open highway with the truckers and the kickers and the cowboy angels.  Probably stop and see some friends in a prairie town.

No boat, however, means no Doug and Dana and a Boat.  Duh.  But we’re two of those who know that life is just a leap of faith, and we’ve got ramblin’ fever in our blood.  So we’re going to leave the blog up, and if we buy another boat—or visit the canals of Europe, the Mediterranean Sea, or other exotic watery locales—maybe we’ll post about it.

This all started as a cruising diary to share with family members who thought we’d lost our minds when we sold our house and cars and moved off of dry land.  Now and again we threw in a few musings to entertain ourselves.  Somehow over the years since that first post in 2017, a surprising number of folks found the blog and engaged with us along the way.  Even if we haven’t met a lot of you, we feel like friends.  Thanks for your interest.

For now, we’re gonna put out the fire and call in the dogs, although the road goes on forever and the party never ends.

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* Special thanks to Julie Andrews (as Maria von Trapp), Mickey Newbury, John Prine, Kris Kristofferson, Jerry Jeff Walker, David Allen Coe, Jimmy Buffett, The Marshall Tucker Band, Gram Parsons, Billy Joe Shaver, Randy Bachman, Iris DeMent, Townes van Zandt, Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, Guy Clark, Robert Earl Keen, Merle Haggard, whoever wrote “O Canada,” and of course, the King of Country music, George Jones.  Without their combined contributions, this post would’ve been far less awkwardly constructed.