A Port in the Storm

We’re in the same boat, my wife and I … We could call it; “The American Dream Boat”. We are like sailing mates plowing full speed ahead through choppy waters. Rarely is it smooth sailing for us out here on the “Dream”. We battle what seems, at times, one storm after another. Our careers are a tempestuous torrent of hectic schedules and deadlines. The cost of maintaining shelter and provision mounts above our heads like the ocean’s high swells threatening to come crashing down, swamping us. So it’s all hands on deck most of the time.

Fueled by our faith in God and each other, and determined to stay afloat, we stem a flood of bills, mechanical breakdowns, and illnesses. We face a perilous barrage of challenges one at a time, as two fierce sailors would bail water bucket by bucket from a flooding vessel. When we grow weary of the restless water and our strength and resolve runs low aboard the Dream, we peel our eyes for a port to re-supply….

By careful scouring through our spy-glass, we caught sight of such a port. In fact, we hauled-in and dropped anchor in Port Townsend, Washington for three days. And conveniently, our harbor time coincided with my wife’s birthday. No better landfall could we have found to celebrate the occasion.

Port Townsend is on the tip of a peninsula reaching into the Admirally Inlet northwest of Seattle’s Puget Sound. We stayed two nights in a crafty cottage set a block from the marina in the “old town” section. Mild shirt-sleeve weather blessed us throughout our entire stay.

The peaceful old downtown is essentially six blocks of two main streets, (Water and Washington). Each passageway is lined with one, two, three or four story brick buildings. Very early, we were out, hand in hand, window shopping on the sleepy little streets. Our caffeine and pastry cravings were satisfied in one of the quaint, back alley coffee houses. Other than a few local merchants and delivery drivers, we had Port Townsend to ourselves for the first couple of hours. It was a good time to take pictures and to venture out on the wharf. The fresh air was filled with the sound of water lapping the sandy shore, the drones of far off fog horns, and the incessant squawking gulls….

One by one and two by two our fellow tourists began spilling into the streets just before the town clock tower struck ten. We spent all of Saturday strolling the well worn sidewalks, appreciating the ornate architecture of over a century past. We were dazzled by the sheer number of gift shops, antique shops, cafes, boutiques, ice cream parlors, candy stores, book nooks, toy vendors, art galleries, pubs, hotels and restaurants.

Handcrafted signs and cleverly arranged window displays beckoned us to enter the curious shops. On most of the glass paned entry doors hung little bells that jingled when we opened them and once we were inside, the old wood floors creaked comfortably under our feet. The experienced shop keepers play carefully selected music that seems to blend with their unique merchandise.

While recorded music plays inside the cafes and shops … Outside, the street musicians provide live entertainment. They take their places on stools or benches a block or so apart, and employ their upside down hats or open instrument cases as dollar bill receptacles. Some of the appreciative listeners, in the small crowds that gather, oblige the fiddlers and pickers by tossing in a buck or two. In exchange for the token, the contributor receives the acknowledgment of a glance or “thank you nod” from the street savvy professionals and maybe even a little chit-chat. Of course everyone within earshot gets the free benefit of casual entertainment….

Mixed with the sound of music is the rumbling of countless motorcycles cruising the town. The riders on their shiny bikes number so many, they seem less like tourists and more like part of the attractive atmosphere of the old port. Decked out in leather chaps, vests and boots, they maintain a degree of biker/tourist separatism even when they park and dismount the cycles. Usually, tourists sport denim jeans, cotton shirts, and clean tennis shoes. Generally the only leather you’ll find a tourist wearing is around their necks in the form of a camera case….

There is a plethora of cozy eateries so we always found it difficult to choose between them at mealtimes. We were tempted to simply choose more mealtimes. Not once were we disappointed by any place we decided upon. Every meal was a joy and our birthday celebration dinner was extra special. For that, we went to the Belmont Hotel & Restaurant. At a little table for two, our romantic hearts delighted in a beautiful view of the waterfront, and exquisite steak dinner…

Every moment in port was savory. We were just two sailing mates enjoying a little shore liberty together. Without immediate concerns we relaxed in the lap of luxury for a time. We breathed it in, soaked it up. We relished it until our time in port was up. Then as reluctantly as the condemned walk the plank we packed to leave our snug harbor. Alas, with our bags slung over our shoulders we set our jaws and headed back aboard our “Dream Boat”.