We made the most of having a car for a couple of days before we left the marina in Seattle’s Elliott Bay. Our gas canisters got refilled in a place about 20 miles away which meant we got to see a bit of rural Seattle on the way. Anything else heavy and bulky was bought, loaded up or dropped off for repair, while weighty provisions were bought and stowed on the first day we had it, so that we were free to drive to Snoqualmie Falls the following day. Snoqualmie was recommended as an excursion in the ‘Mountain Getaways’ section on my Kindle travel guide. Described as a location the Native Americans regarded as sacred, the falls are 268 feet high and mark the place where the Snoqualmie River begins its descent to the sea. With breathtaking views from an observation deck and short hikes in the surrounding woodlands, it sounded very appealing.
We arrived there around noon on a hot, sunny day after driving about 30 miles east from Seattle. Again, it was a delight to drive through Washington State’s countryside, especially as we drew nearer to Snoqualmie where the forest was thick, colourful and lush and the Cascade Mountains loomed in the distance. The Falls were a tremendous sight, it was almost hypnotic to stand and watch them – a timeless and totally natural spectacle. We took a lot of pictures and read all the information boards before setting off to attempt the recommended hike to the lower observation deck. Here, we met with disappointment, however. Although Paul was lots better, he didn’t feel up to the effort the sign (pictured below) warned of, and since it was very hot by then, neither did I!
We compromised and walked down a small part of the trail until we could see just how steep the descent was – the path wound a long way down in a spiral pattern. Two ladies on their way back were getting their breath back on a bench and one look at their faces showed the trial they’d experienced. The thought of climbing that hill in the heat was off-putting and I was relieved to turn back towards the obligatory gift shop. Inside, the products on sale reminded me of the other claim to fame in the area. Nearby, the sumptuous Salish Lodge and Spa, served as the ‘Great Northern Hotel’ in David Lynch’s popular television drama ‘Twin Peaks’. I hadn’t watched it but Paul was a huge fan, so when we learned that the location for the show’s enigmatic introduction (a sign bearing the words ‘Welcome to Twin Peaks’) was a few miles away we thought it was definitely worth the trip to see it. The route took us through a quaint little town with signs advertising The Northwest Railway Museum and as it was well past lunchtime we stopped to have a bite to eat and check out the museum. The ‘museum’ was spread out along the street with some fascinating, iconic locomotives, freight cars and railroad artefacts to look at. It was possible to board a few of the trains and I loved climbing into the engine compartment of a ‘Casey Jones’ (for anyone who remembers that show) one, and several others that were familiar from vintage American TV programmes and films.
We found the exact spot where the Twin Peaks sign should have been but a bit of internet searching revealed that the sign had been removed. Like the ‘Penny Lane’ sign in Liverpool, fans kept stealing it! Still, the bend in the road was easily recognisable and we took some pictures to compare online later. Further along the road, it grew more scenic with steep, forested hills leading down to shallow streams where people were paddling and picnicking. We stopped for a while to dip our feet in the cool water and admire the pretty setting.
I had a rather ungainly entry to Port Townsend a couple of days later, when I went to jump off at the fuel dock pontoon to tie the midship line. I caught my hip on the wooden fender board on the port side and fell onto the pontoon at the feet of the guy who had come to assist us! The only injury sustained was to my pride I’m pleased to say. Port Townsend hosts a Wooden Boat Festival each year and we would be staying at Boat Haven Marina for three days to see as much of it as we could.
It was early evening and drizzling with rain on our first night there. The festival would be closing for the day but we thought it would be good to walk there and have a look around. Halfway along the long, straight road we were asked if we wanted a lift to town by an elderly lady driving a golf cart type of vehicle. We gratefully accepted, thinking it was a free shuttle laid on for the festival. She was very chatty and full of local information and questions about our plans and travels. She gave us her card and told us to call her if we needed a lift back…and then asked for the $6 dollar fee! She will do well with the festival-goers I think. The festival’s first full day was winding down when we got there so we didn’t have to pay to walk in. There was still plenty to see, and the live music tent had a band playing with a bar selling beer, wine and soft drinks. Some stalls were still open and several food shacks were serving so we had a slow amble around getting a feel for the place.
Some of the boats were open and available to look around but we thought we’d save that for daylight. We bought festival food and ate it listening to the band and watching the dancing. The atmosphere was great, despite the inclement weather and I looked forward to a full day there the next day. We walked back in the dark following the main street through the centre of town. It was lively with bars and restaurants, well-lit shops and some historic-looking buildings…and some large bookshops.
We caught the much cheaper festival shuttle bus the following morning. The rain had stopped and it looked set to be a fine day. Once we’d paid the $20 admission fee we agreed to wander separately around the site and meet up later. There were a few talks on that interested Paul that wouldn’t do much for me, and I could spend as long as I wanted looking at ‘stuff’ on sale. There was plenty to look at, watch and listen to – and that was before we walked the pontoons to look at the wooden boats. It was great to see the replica of Joshua Slocum’s boat ‘Spray’, which turned out to be a lot larger than I’d imagined when reading his account of his solo round the world voyage in 1895. The rain held off until early evening which was lucky for stallholders and festival goers alike as it would have been damp, chilly and muddy underfoot as the site had few places to shelter.
On Sunday 9th, the festival’s final day, we decided we’d seen pretty much all we needed to see on the site and since it would be winding down at 3pm it seemed wasteful to pay another $20. It was cold and drizzly too, so an ideal museum-visiting day. The town’s museum was offering a discount for festival goers and even though we didn’t have proof of our attendance the previous day, the friendly staff member let us in at the reduced price. The museum was a delight, despite its small size. Housed on the main street in an old building that used to include the town jail, it was built in 1891 and had a wealth of fascinating photographs and information about the town. I was thrilled by the fact that a favourite writer of mine, Jack London, had once cavorted drunkenly down the streets and ended up spending a night in one of the cells.
Several other establishments and sites had a colourful history associated with their locations. The Palace Hotel used to be a ‘rooming house’ (brothel) and The Rose Theatre, built in 1907 as a vaudeville house still hosts plays, ballets and operas and also operates as a cinema, or movie house as they are called here. Point Hudson, on the southeast corner of the town was a Native American seasonal camp and also the site of Captain Vancouver’s 1792 landing; it is now Port Hudson Marina and R V Park.
The Rose Theatre was a lovely looking old building that just cried out to be explored further. We looked at the films being shown on the display boards outside and on impulse, decided to see one later that evening called ‘Crazy Rich Asians’. Making a real night out of it, we had a drink in a bar overlooking the harbour, went for a walk along the hilly path above the town and then had dinner in a Thai restaurant before the film. The interior of the theatre was stunning. It was a real treat to sit on comfortable sofas with a glass of wine – served in a glass, not disposable plastic – instead of the impersonal and often confusing layout of multiplex cinemas. It was even possible to stretch your legs out on the chairs and sofas. The film was good, too in an ‘Asian romcom’ way.
We both loved Port Townsend. Paul said he could happily have spent weeks there. It’s a haven for boat owners, with its specialist marine workshops and chandleries. The shops were charmingly unique and the day before we had to leave, I spent a whole afternoon browsing them and the bookshops as well as picking out the old buildings described in the museum and imagining them as they used to be.
We were back in Canada by the middle of September. Previously, we had stayed at Sidney Spit in the Haro Strait, but this time we spent a couple of days in the town of Sidney itself. Both of us found it a bit lacking in something. I think ‘manufactured’ is the best word to apply to it. We had probably been spoiled by the elegance and history of Port Townsend. It did have some very impressive bookshops though, so I can forgive its characterless gift shops and uninspiring hotels and restaurants. The Haunted Bookshop was an especially wonderful place. On the showery morning I visited, the shopkeeper and I were the only people inside, but unfortunately I didn’t see a ghost.
For my birthday on the 14th, we moved to Tsehum Harbour for a stay in Van Isle Marina. It’s a pleasant, family-owned operation with a restaurant, an office, a few workshops and little else since Sidney Town is less than a mile away. Luckily the restaurant had a good menu and we booked a table for the evening. Paul enjoyed a seafood meal and they kindly adapted the vegetarian option into a vegan curried squash and lentil meal which was delicious. We ate with a view overlooking the marina just as the sun set.
Our next port of call was the intriguingly named Pirate’s Cove – straight out of an Enid Blyton story! No pirates spotted, just more rain and a warning in our ‘Best Anchorages of The Inside Passage’ guide that it would be a tricky and challenging task to anchor, involving tying a stern line to the shore. Other deficiencies mentioned were: an entrance guarded by a long narrow reef with a rock that juts out which has grazed the hull of many boats, strong NW winds that could make for an uncomfortable night and oozy mud that causes many boats’ anchors to drag. Thankfully, the ‘charismatic occult leader’, Brother XII who set up a commune on DeCourcy Island in the 1930s, and who used to shoot anyone who dared venture near his island uninvited is no longer in residence. He apparently deserted his followers, after having liberated them from their money and gold (in true pirate fashion) and took off for a life Switzerland. Anchoring was unproblematic and there was no NW wind to trouble us. We did tie a stern line to the shore, but gratefully accepted the help of a neighbouring yacht owner, who saved us the task of getting the dinghy out. The rain continued all evening, so with the heating on and the temperature dropping we had an autumnal meal of burgers, mash and beans and a cosy evening in.
From Pirate’s Cove we motored to an anchorage at Boho Bay via Dodd Narrows and from there to Back Eddy Resort, watching the surroundings grow evermore picturesque as we drew closer to the mountains. Initially intending to stop just to get fuel, Back Eddy turned out to be such an attractive place we decided to stay the night. The tiny village of Egmont was a short walk away and the lady who checked us in told us it has the smallest Post Office in Canada so naturally, that had to be checked out. It was a clear and sunny afternoon after the recent rain, and the light was beautiful as we walked around the harbour. As always, the photos don’t quite capture the beauty of the place but they give a good idea.
Paul’s birthday was the next day, but as we planned to be at anchor, we had his birthday meal in the pub/restaurant opposite the pontoon.
Our journey along the Inside Passage would continue with stops at more destinations with storybook names. We were bound for one which has several claims to be the most beautiful setting of them all: Princess Louisa Inlet.