A day that should have been spent exploring North Cascades National Park was instead spent waiting for the Port Townsend-Keystone ferry, taking wrong turns on Whidbey Island, and slogging through highway construction delays in East Jesus.
I woke early to the soothing sound of seagulls and garbage trucks emptying dumpsters. I had breakfast at the local corner diner, which had a tremendous view of the harbor filled with sailboats. The diner was playing a great local radio station (KIXI); “great” because it was playing Sinatra, Martin, Peggy Lee, Johnny Mathis, Perry Como, etc. Perfect music for what should have been a slow morning.
While reading the paper, I saw the big news story around here about some renegade Indian tribe members who defied their local whaling commission and killed an orca whale in the Strait. Now, the actual details are pretty complex. Their tribe’s treaty with the US Government specifically allowed them to continue their historic practice of whale hunting, but due to some technicality a federal statute prevents the tribe from whale hunting unless the tribe’s whaling commission grants approval. I gathered that the commission has some pretty difficult to meet standards. About four or five people tried recently to get commission approval for a hunt but were denied. But they decided to go ahead anyway without a permit and killed one. To add a touch of class, a member of the whaling commission went along with the group. What drew my attention was not all of that, but the fact that they used machine guns to kill the whale. Now, I’m fine with wanting to preserve their heritage and practice the noble and ancient art of the hunt, but I don’t remember ever reading about the centuries of native American hunts with machine guns. What’s next? Are they going to mine their harbors? Maybe they could get some surplus F-4s and strafe the whales. Seems to me that the ancient and noble custom the treaty would have preserved isn’t simply the right to nuke a whale, but to engage in the whole practice as it existed at the time of the treaty. I also had no idea you could go fishing with a machine gun. Kinda makes fly fishing seem tame. Too bad Melville didn’t think to give Ahab a gatlin gun; I guess that would have taken away a lot of the drama.
Then took a short walk. Monday mornings in Port Townsend are distinctly different than Sunday afternoons. The town is virtually empty except for the locals and the stragglers (like me). After packing, I went to get in line plenty early for the 11:15 a.m. ferry. Unfortunatly, enough other people were already waiting by 10:20 that the 11:15 sailing was full. And as today was the first day of reduced fall service, that meant the next boat didn’t leave until 12:45. So that gave me plenty of time to sit in my car, in the sun, listening to the radio and getting anxious. In other words, act like I’m at work (except for the sun part). After 11:15, I walked back into town and soup at the local den of slack. The girl at the counter remarked on my David Sedaris book, thus giving me another prized opportunity to tell my “David Sedaris remembered meeting me at a prior book signing story” that never impresses anyone but me.
Finally, my ship arrived, and sailed with me across the Strait to Whidbey Island. The boat headed straight towards Mount Baker, which made for a spectacular sight on this very clear day. Whidbey was also pretty attractive, with similar scenery as the Peninsula but more island oriented (shorter trees, more scrub). It has a Naval air station so there’s a lot of military living there. Its also sort of a yuppie enclave, with Escalades and Home Depots. Unfortunately, its also the site of highway construction all along the main road. So a trip through the island that should have taken about 15 minutes wound up taking over an hour. Oh, of course, part of that was me getting confused about where to turn once I got off the island. (I blame the map, which shows the turn for 20 East as before you get to Anacortes, which is wrong).
I finally arrived in Concrete, WA about an hour before sunset. I’m staying in a small cabin near the Skagit River, owned by a family that has about eight such cabins on their property. It has a fantastic view of Mount Baker, which I enjoyed during a 48 minute run. As I ran past the cattle herd, they all ran away from me. At night we’re so far away from any sizable town that the view of the stars is virtually unlimited. Its hard to find such views anymore. Its really timely that there’s no moon out either, so there’s nothing to obstruct the stars.
Then I went to the “Cajun BBQ” restaurant in “town.” The “cajun” that owns the place actually is a former Navy engineer from Pascagoula, Mississippi named Tim. Not a cajun. Nonetheless, we visited about Mississippi and cajun cooking while watching the 49er-Cardinal game at the bar. Tim comped my chicken and andouille sausage gumbo, which was pretty good. I also had the Shrimp Diane, which is grilled shrimp with mushrooms and white wine sauce, and was also good. Obviously it wasn’t an authentic cajun place, as it lacked chanky-chank music and Abita beer (see “Rajun Cajun”) and 15,000 family pictures on the walls, but it was an unexpected oasis.
OK, Britney Spears. Hopefully this VMA debacle will finally kill off the circus that is Britney Spears. If for no other reason, her crashing and burning will be a needed example that ultimately trash can’t substitute for actual talent. She’s what Ayn Rand would have called a “second hander,” a second-rate mediocrity whom the world admires despite a lack of true talent. Plus, you live by the sword you die by the sword. Somewhere along the way she stopped trying to make it as an actual singer and instead tried to make it as a sex object. That’s a bit harder to perfect when you’re two kids in and your training regimen generally consists of clubbing and following the Elvis diet. Plus, when your parenting skills make Michael Jackson look like Mr. Cunningham on Happy Days, you have what is called baggage. I do have to allow that the criticism of her latest appearance, being fat and out of shape, crossed the line. I’ve seen that clip and she looks pretty good. She’s had two kids. Maybe she doesn’t have the socially required "stick figure with breast implants" look, but so what. Nevertheless, Demi Moore had two kids and has a rocking body. If you’re showing up for your big comeback wearing a bikini, you probably ought to work on your body more than the average person just looking to stay in shape. Of course, I have no idea whether the actual singing/lip synching was any good.
I woke early to the soothing sound of seagulls and garbage trucks emptying dumpsters. I had breakfast at the local corner diner, which had a tremendous view of the harbor filled with sailboats. The diner was playing a great local radio station (KIXI); “great” because it was playing Sinatra, Martin, Peggy Lee, Johnny Mathis, Perry Como, etc. Perfect music for what should have been a slow morning.
While reading the paper, I saw the big news story around here about some renegade Indian tribe members who defied their local whaling commission and killed an orca whale in the Strait. Now, the actual details are pretty complex. Their tribe’s treaty with the US Government specifically allowed them to continue their historic practice of whale hunting, but due to some technicality a federal statute prevents the tribe from whale hunting unless the tribe’s whaling commission grants approval. I gathered that the commission has some pretty difficult to meet standards. About four or five people tried recently to get commission approval for a hunt but were denied. But they decided to go ahead anyway without a permit and killed one. To add a touch of class, a member of the whaling commission went along with the group. What drew my attention was not all of that, but the fact that they used machine guns to kill the whale. Now, I’m fine with wanting to preserve their heritage and practice the noble and ancient art of the hunt, but I don’t remember ever reading about the centuries of native American hunts with machine guns. What’s next? Are they going to mine their harbors? Maybe they could get some surplus F-4s and strafe the whales. Seems to me that the ancient and noble custom the treaty would have preserved isn’t simply the right to nuke a whale, but to engage in the whole practice as it existed at the time of the treaty. I also had no idea you could go fishing with a machine gun. Kinda makes fly fishing seem tame. Too bad Melville didn’t think to give Ahab a gatlin gun; I guess that would have taken away a lot of the drama.
Then took a short walk. Monday mornings in Port Townsend are distinctly different than Sunday afternoons. The town is virtually empty except for the locals and the stragglers (like me). After packing, I went to get in line plenty early for the 11:15 a.m. ferry. Unfortunatly, enough other people were already waiting by 10:20 that the 11:15 sailing was full. And as today was the first day of reduced fall service, that meant the next boat didn’t leave until 12:45. So that gave me plenty of time to sit in my car, in the sun, listening to the radio and getting anxious. In other words, act like I’m at work (except for the sun part). After 11:15, I walked back into town and soup at the local den of slack. The girl at the counter remarked on my David Sedaris book, thus giving me another prized opportunity to tell my “David Sedaris remembered meeting me at a prior book signing story” that never impresses anyone but me.
Finally, my ship arrived, and sailed with me across the Strait to Whidbey Island. The boat headed straight towards Mount Baker, which made for a spectacular sight on this very clear day. Whidbey was also pretty attractive, with similar scenery as the Peninsula but more island oriented (shorter trees, more scrub). It has a Naval air station so there’s a lot of military living there. Its also sort of a yuppie enclave, with Escalades and Home Depots. Unfortunately, its also the site of highway construction all along the main road. So a trip through the island that should have taken about 15 minutes wound up taking over an hour. Oh, of course, part of that was me getting confused about where to turn once I got off the island. (I blame the map, which shows the turn for 20 East as before you get to Anacortes, which is wrong).
I finally arrived in Concrete, WA about an hour before sunset. I’m staying in a small cabin near the Skagit River, owned by a family that has about eight such cabins on their property. It has a fantastic view of Mount Baker, which I enjoyed during a 48 minute run. As I ran past the cattle herd, they all ran away from me. At night we’re so far away from any sizable town that the view of the stars is virtually unlimited. Its hard to find such views anymore. Its really timely that there’s no moon out either, so there’s nothing to obstruct the stars.
Then I went to the “Cajun BBQ” restaurant in “town.” The “cajun” that owns the place actually is a former Navy engineer from Pascagoula, Mississippi named Tim. Not a cajun. Nonetheless, we visited about Mississippi and cajun cooking while watching the 49er-Cardinal game at the bar. Tim comped my chicken and andouille sausage gumbo, which was pretty good. I also had the Shrimp Diane, which is grilled shrimp with mushrooms and white wine sauce, and was also good. Obviously it wasn’t an authentic cajun place, as it lacked chanky-chank music and Abita beer (see “Rajun Cajun”) and 15,000 family pictures on the walls, but it was an unexpected oasis.
OK, Britney Spears. Hopefully this VMA debacle will finally kill off the circus that is Britney Spears. If for no other reason, her crashing and burning will be a needed example that ultimately trash can’t substitute for actual talent. She’s what Ayn Rand would have called a “second hander,” a second-rate mediocrity whom the world admires despite a lack of true talent. Plus, you live by the sword you die by the sword. Somewhere along the way she stopped trying to make it as an actual singer and instead tried to make it as a sex object. That’s a bit harder to perfect when you’re two kids in and your training regimen generally consists of clubbing and following the Elvis diet. Plus, when your parenting skills make Michael Jackson look like Mr. Cunningham on Happy Days, you have what is called baggage. I do have to allow that the criticism of her latest appearance, being fat and out of shape, crossed the line. I’ve seen that clip and she looks pretty good. She’s had two kids. Maybe she doesn’t have the socially required "stick figure with breast implants" look, but so what. Nevertheless, Demi Moore had two kids and has a rocking body. If you’re showing up for your big comeback wearing a bikini, you probably ought to work on your body more than the average person just looking to stay in shape. Of course, I have no idea whether the actual singing/lip synching was any good.
Tough stands on tough issues. That's me.
Tomorrow-North Cascades National Park
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