Fishermen’s Terminal was always going to be our first place to visit in Seattle. Locations mean so much more after you’ve read about them and had your interest ignited. We’d both read Jonathan Raban’s book about travelling to Juneau, Alaska along The Inside Passage, when his journey had begun at Fishermen’s Terminal in the late 1990s. We set off early on Tuesday morning August 21st on our bikes. Seattle is great for cyclists; it has designated cycle paths and there were only a few hills on the route to Elliott Bay. We called in to Elliott Bay Marina on the way, to book a berth there for two weeks. It’s another huge one with a great view of the Seattle skyline. We stopped for lunch in the restaurant there, trying not to grimace too much at the cost for a bowl of clam chowder, a portion of chips and a coke and glass of wine (we didn’t eat there again).
Fishermen’s Terminal looked like a great place to stay. Paul had enquired about a berth there but there was a huge demand this year and they were totally booked up; preference is naturally given to commercial vessels. We had a look at the memorial and read the information boards about its history. The bronze and stone memorial commemorates over 500 people who lost their lives while fishing in Alaska. Flowers and hand-written tributes are sadly constantly in place relating to most recent losses.
The port is home to the huge boats that have featured in documentaries such as ‘Deadliest Catch’. Jonathan Raban was here in the month of April and he watched boats being fitted out for their spring migration. He described the hive of activity involved in the work, with generations of families taking part and concludes that the place felt older than the city itself. I could understand that and also what he meant about the past being ‘alive and usable’, when looking at the old and well-used vessels around me; all their modern navigational aids were hidden from view below. Wooden tables and chairs outside the main building were in use by people eating food from the kiosks and drinks from the bar, enjoying the afternoon sunshine. Nearby were a couple of seafood restaurants and a shop selling organic produce and artisan gifts – all predictably expensive.
Cycling on, we arrived at the outskirts of Seattle, getting ever closer to the Space Needle. It was a hot afternoon and the hills were steep in the city centre. I was flagging badly on one extremely steep one as we pushed the bikes up so Paul did the gentlemanly thing and pushed both of them to the top. The Museum of Pop Culture is right next to the Space Needle (which, after looking up at it and then checking the admission fee of over £70 for the two of us, we unanimously decided to omit from our itinerary).
The museum, however, was a definite on my list of places to visit. Knowing it would be too late to enter and do it justice, we went in to have a quick look around. There was plenty of information about what was on, including a recently opened exhibition celebrating 80 years of Marvel comics and one on the music and gigs of Pearl Jam. These, and a lot more were all available to see for the princely sum of £22. The museum promptly went on Paul’s list of things he could do without seeing ;-). I resolved to return another day on my own. We had a drink in the venue’s café before cycling along the waterfront to find a store called Fred Meyer, one of the US’s ‘everything under one roof’ shops. It was here that Paul began to feel the pain of the infection that he described in an earlier blog post. It had been a long day of cycling around and we put it down to that at the time, little realising it was the beginning of another visit to a hospital in a foreign country. Pics from our cycle ride round Seattle below.
Despite the pain and discomfort, Paul felt up to moving on the next day. We left Shilshole Marina late in the morning for the hour’s journey to Elliott Bay. It was hazy when we left with what we thought was fog but later discovered to be smoke from all the fires on Vancouver Island. Entering our new marina, I was thrilled to spot several seals basking on the rocks at the bottom of the breakwater (hard to spot in the pics but they are there).
Once settled in the berth, Paul gave in to the need to rest and as time went on, it became clear that moving around for any length of time was painful and uncomfortable for him. We decided to wait until after the weekend and seek advice if he was no better. In the meantime, I made any necessary trips to the marina office or the shops.
I liked Elliott Bay. The Seattle skyline was a delight to see at night when it was clear enough, and it was very peaceful there. Walking the pontoons I often saw seals popping their heads up, and several large pink and purple starfish could be seen in the clear water, clinging to the metal under the pontoons. On Saturday, Paul felt up to a trip to Pike Place Market on Seattle’s waterfront. An Uber taxi dropped us there and we had a slow amble around as Paul was finding walking painful by then. Pike Place Market was established in 1907 when citizens, outraged by the middlemen hiking up prices for fresh produce, demanded a solution, which came in the form of a public market. Over the years, it’s grown into a vibrant place with lots of homes above the storefronts – the majority of whom are low-income elderly people or people living with disability. As well as the usual market stall there are speciality shops, artists and craftspeople, buskers and an abundance of cafes and restaurants. It was predictably busy on a summer Saturday, especially as visiting cruise ships had disgorged passengers into downtown Seattle, and although the historic buildings and winding alleys were attractive and intriguing, we didn’t want to risk Paul feeling worse by walking too much.
We sought out a coffee bar to check whether Seattle’s reputation as a coffee capital is justified. The first ever Starbucks, which opened in 1971 is located at Pike Place but I’ve never been a fan of the chain so we found an independent one in a side street and shared pumpkin cake to go with it (both very nice).
From there it was a short walk to the city public library, a huge, shimmering glass and steel building which has 11 levels. It was a very impressive library and I was pleased to see it was well attended on all the floors. Level ten was a viewing floor with great views across the city, and was also the reading room where we spent a pleasant half hour reading books about Seattle’s music and history and looking at old photos of the city.
A short cycle ride was necessary the next day to buy a part for the electricity shore power connection, having been told off for not having the correct fitting earlier in the day. That short ride confirmed that Paul was getting no better and first thing on Monday morning we set off to seek medical advice. The hospital experience was very fast and efficient and it was such a relief when the experts diagnosed and prescribed treatment, as opposed to our guess work and online research. The cost of the medicine nearly gave me health problems of my own when the chemist told me the amount! The pills, along with days of rest would at least ensure his recovery, albeit not a quick (or cheap) one.
I took myself off to the centre of the city a couple of days later for the promised visit to the Museum of Pop Culture. As well as the Marvel and Science fiction exhibitions, there was one entitled ‘Scared to Death: The Thrill of Horror Film’. I sat and watched clips of the 100 scariest films in a setting with blood on the floor and ‘bodies’ hanging in a serial killer’s lair. Among the exhibits, I was particularly thrilled to see what is claimed to be the actual axe Jack Nicholson used in one of my favourite films, ‘The Shining’. I browsed the grunge music section to my heart’s content and looked at the clothes, instruments and memorabilia of Seattle’s Jimi Hendrix, then finished off with an entertaining look at the ‘Fantasy: Worlds of Myth and Magic’ room. Some pics of the visit below.
It wasn’t until a week later that Paul felt up to venturing into Seattle. We had a list of places we wanted to see and the first of these was The Klondike Gold Rush Historical Park. It was located in the historic district of the city; picturesque Pioneer Square which, as location of the heart of the gold rush era had some fantastic old buildings. The museum tells the story of the late 1890s stampede to find gold in the Yukon and after watching a short film outlining the timeline of the period we both enjoyed a slow walk through the exhibits, reading and listening to fascinating first-hand accounts about the event and looking at old photographs. All for free, too!
The Elliott Bay Book Company was next. It was our intention to walk there, but the map I’d used turned out to be completely out of scale and was way too far to walk to. We were in Chinatown by the time this was discovered but didn’t have time to linger long there. We did stop for a while to watch a guy playing an instrument similar to a violin while a couple had fun playing pavement chess.
An Uber taxi took us to the book store. He dropped us right by the Jimi Hendrix statue, which ticked off another attraction on the list.
Elliott Book Company’s claim to be ‘a must for bibliophiles’ was spot on. A huge store, on two levels with an obligatory coffee shop, it sold a mix of new titles along with a sizable section of ‘reduced in price’ stock. I had a long browse while Paul sat in the café. Next door I’d spotted a likely bar/restaurant for a late lunch and we walked through its door just after three. The hours between 3 and 5 was ‘Happy Hour’, the guy who greeted us explained. Unfortunately this didn’t translate to any discounts or two for one, as other establishments offer during these hours, it meant that they only served some of what was on the full menu so that they could concentrate on getting ready for dinner service. As he went on to explain the permutations in further detail I couldn’t help thinking they had overcomplicated things: I had to keep asking for clarification until he produced a little slip of paper listing what was on offer. A somewhat dubious interpretation of Happy Hour in my opinion. Still, the bowl of chips and glass of wine for me and meatball sandwich and coke for Paul were welcome refreshments.
We strolled through a small city centre park after that, en route to get the Seattle Center Monorail. This mode of transport provides a fast route between downtown and central locations, and along with several other Seattle landmarks, was built for the 1962 World’s Fair.
The Space Needle, where we got off was another one and we sat on the grass for a while watching it whisk people up to its top observation deck and down again at stomach-lurching speed. This was Labor Day weekend, the equivalent of Britain’s May Day Bank holiday weekend, and alongside the park a festival called Bumbershoot was taking place. This is a three day event when performers from all over the world converge for concerts, theatre productions, independent film screenings and literary events. Apparently it’s permitted to smoke pot in there and we watched a queue of people having their bags searched, presumably for weapons or drugs that weren’t cannabis, before entering the gates to join in the fun. I mention weapons because signs on the doors of quite a few premises bear the words ‘no firearms or weapons permitted inside’ – words that are somehow simultaneously worrying and reassuring.
With Paul now well on the road to recovery we decided to brave another bike ride on Labor Day Sunday. Paul had found a park that he said didn’t look too far away or too strenuous. At least it wasn’t far away! It’s a shame that the steep hills hadn’t shown show up on the map, however. It had started off well; a cool breeze, long empty roads, interesting upmarket neighbourhoods with pretty and unique houses to look at as we cycled effortlessly along. Further on, we had to ascend in order to reach Discovery Park. It had got hotter by then and the hills were much too steep to cycle up. We ended up pushing them for most of the way – I thought the hills would never stop coming (I think I may even have whined about that a little bit ;-)). The park was well worth the effort, though. It was fascinating. I knew little about it until afterwards but we came upon such beautiful, big, empty cream-coloured houses as we rode through. They looked like the sort of houses used for American movies, particularly in supernatural ones, such as The Amityville Horror. The pictures show what I mean. There were several of them but none seemed to be occupied. I would have dearly loved to look inside. Signs indicated they were military-owned but it wasn’t until I looked online that I found out they were part of the US Army’s Fort Lawton base. Apparently some of the territory had been sold to the city but part of the park is still used for training and officers’ accommodation. I spent an inordinate amount of time just staring at those enigmatic houses in the late afternoon light.
We took a slight detour on the way back, to visit Fishermen’s Terminal for refreshments at the pub there. I love sitting on the high stools in American bars where they place a coaster in front of you on the counter with a flourish before you’ve even ordered a drink. To our left were three guys who had clearly been there for quite some time. When we took our seats, one of them moved his belongings from the one next to us and we had a polite and humorous interaction about it being ok to sit there. At least, I hope it was polite and humorous because I couldn’t make out what he was saying to me due to the background noise and the less than sober words he spoke – but he chuckled a lot so I took that as a positive sign. Paul tried the pub’s clam chowder and we shared some fries with ranch and barbecue sauce (a new one to us, and very tasty). As we ate, the conversation between two of the three guys next to us gradually changed from a tone of amiable chat to one of goading confrontation. I could hear it building up beside me, with phrases like ‘I’m just stating my opinion – didn’t intend to cause offence’, and ‘we’re having a discussion, it shouldn’t need to turn into an argument’. Thankfully the third guy, who I guessed was the captain of the fishing boat they had come from managed to calm the situation before it turned into a classic bar room brawl.
No doubt there was plenty more of Seattle that we would have loved to see if we’d had more time and, more crucially, money but we felt we had seen the parts we wanted to and had definitely soaked up the vibrant atmosphere of the city. The car we had booked for the next couple of days would allow us to explore locations further afield.
After two days in Sidney, a town with a lot of book shops, we had to leave as the marina was booked up for a regata, we had gone there to have a break and enjoy Kathy’s birthday, we had hoped to find a good Indian restaurant, but the only one there had closed down. So we had to move along the coast to Van Isle marina which was also quite a posh affair, but a few miles out of the main town. It did have a lot of marinas and boat repair yards, I wandered around and found two chandleries, one with a load of Sikaflex (Marine Sealant) at a silly low price, I had to buy two tubes, even though I don’t think I can use them before their ‘use by date’
The main reason for going to Pirates cove was that it was just an hour from Dodd Narrows, as I mentioned before, a quite scary pass where the currents run fast and dangerous. we needed to pass through around 9am so this was a great spot to leave from. As it turned out, there was no drama, passing through at slack water makes life very easy.
Early the next morning we were on the move again, Lasqueti is about half way across the Strait of Georgia and we needed to get right over to the North eastern side in order to visit Desolation sound and the other back channels that we had heard so much about. Around this time I asked Kathy to check out if there was anywhere she really wanted to see, or could find any ‘must see’ places on the net, she quickly came up with the idea to visit Prince Louisa Inlet, a small inlet of outstanding beauty with a giant waterfall at the head called Chatterbox Falls. Looking at the chart, this was an easy diversion from here, so we headed north and cut through the Agamemnon channel up to Jervis Inlet which lead to our inlet.
As we passed under the cables they just seemed to get lower and lower, I really don’t think I could ever do the intercoastal waterway up the eastern side of the USA as so many of the bridges there are just a little bigger than my mast and I think I would freak at each one. 
However we passed through and looking back felt a bit silly as for some reason now they seemed to be about a mile up in the sky. Around here we passed another sailing boat who was making about 1 knot under sail, there was next to no wind. I admired him for not rushing and burning fuel like us. He was sitting in his boat saying to himself “Sister Midnight, I know that name…??”
We headed down to the pontoons to see how it all worked when we met the sailor heading up to the shop, I stopped and asked him if he was the skipper on the yacht that just arrived, he said yes and we chatted, I told him we had passed him under the pylons and he told us he was down from Sointula and I explained that we were heading up there. At this point he realised why he thought he knew Sister Midnight, he asked my full name, then introduced himself as Jim the guy I had been emailing with over the last few months as he was going to be looking after our boat while we returned to the UK. he had just sailed down here for a few days exploring. Quite a coincidence. We bumped into him later in the grocery store, but that was less of a coincidence as the grocery store was the only shop for 5 miles and there was nothing else to do 🙂
When we arrived it was lovely and sunny but in the morning the fog had descended and I worried if we would be ably to make the 35 miles up to Princess Louisa Inlet, but a local arrived in a small skiff and he told me the fog was only around the marina and was caused by the colder water you get around the rapids. 
We set off and sure enough the fog was very isolated around the marina, the pic below is looking back to the marina from about a mile away.
At the head of this inlet is the famous chatterbox Falls, in June the sheer mountainside vertical walls all along the inlet are flowing with waterfalls 
We found space on a public dock maintained by the park authorities. I’m not used to having to moor next to planes but I just treated it like a boat and all went well
The small float plane had just arrived with a bride and groom and photographer for some wedding shots in front of the waterfall, after those shots they pranced around on the pontoon for ages before shooting off in the plane. Watching the plane go round and round in circles to gain enough height to clear the mountains made me realise just how high these granite walls reached.
The next day a big motor launch $4.5Million dollars worth, arrived and I helped the skipper by taking his stern lines, we chatted and he had seen my “Liverpool” reg on the hull and explained his guests on the boat were two ladies from the UK, so later we were surprised when two giggly northern women turned up, banging on our hull and insisting we join them for drinks on the mega yacht, one of them was from Preston, the other frm Nottingham. We had a nice time chatting with them and a few other guests on the boat, a very luxurious affair, I noted the kitchen was way better than my own, and I’m talking about the one in my house!
Today we left Princess Louisa Inlet early to pass the rapids at slack water, this time at low tide, making the channel even narrower. On the way out we saw some new waterfalls that had been dry on the way in.