Poulsbo Trip: Chapter 2 - At The Cottage

Day 3: Sunday 7/15

I wake up about 7:30. Take my time having breakfast, looking over the entries in the guest book. Several comments about the friendly neighborhood dogs. Viv & Nick are out on the deck, playing with Cindy, a Setter that belongs to a neighbor. The dog takes off with Nick's shoes, Viv has to go get them back. Bill (the dog's owner) says she's always taking things from people and bringing them home.

Reading the brochures about Poulsbo (it's pronounced "Paulsbo" by the locals). Lots of Scandanavians settled here, they have an annual "Viking Days" celebration that looks like fun, too bad it's not this week.

Looking around the cabin, I notice lots of interesting things on the shelves: toy binoculars, books, puzzles. Some of the items look like they were left behind by other guests. They say when you leave something behind, you're expressing a desire to return to that place. I have a small Viking rune candle that I brought with me, a free gift received with an order from Archie McPhee. It seems to fit in with the theme here, so I set it up on a shelf with the intention of leaving it behind.

It's kinda cool in the cabin, so we light a fire in the fireplace. The chimney doesn't draw very well though, and the cottage starts to get smoky. We decide to let it die out, and build a fire in the woodstove instead. This works out much better: more heat and less smoke.

Viv and Nick have returned from a walk along the shore. After a quick snack, Nick wants to go back out and explore the beach some more, so I go with him. The beach is mostly broken shells and barnacle-covered rocks, with an occasional mud flat. Don't think I'll be able to do any running along the shore up here, it's like walking on broken eggshells. The scenery is beautiful though, and Nick is having a great time, collecting shells and getting squirted by clams.

Back at the cottage, I lay down on a hammock that's tied between a tall evergreen and a manzanita tree, looking to take a nap. Just relaxing, listening to the calls of the sea birds in the distance. Nick won't let me rest for long, he wants me to help him play fetch with the dog. (Kids have so much energy!)

Later I stop next door introduce myself to Paul and Heidi (the people who rented us the cottage), and ask directions to the grocery store. They seem like a nice couple, artistic types, maybe a couple years younger than us. I tell Viv this when she asks what they'e like. Later, she gets a chance to meet them for herself. She then points out to me that they're actually a lot younger than us, saying something like "You're not thirty years old anymore!"

Later on, after getting out of the shower, I take a good hard look in the mirror. Wrinkles creasing my forehead, crows-feet, and a greying goatee that's more salt than pepper. My God, am I really that old? When did this happen? I guess I still think of myself as being thirty, even though I'm 45...

Later on I drive through downtown Paulsbo with Nick to check it out. Lots of little shops, a small marine life museum, and a sports shop that rents kayaks. We'll have to check this out more tomorrow. For now, I just want to get the groceries and get back to the cottage and relax. The clerk at the local Albertson's is friendly, making small talk about the weather with me as she's ringing up our groceries. I'm dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt, unintentionally blending in with the locals. I don't think she realizes I'm a tourist.

Back at the cottage, it starts to rain. We have a small fire burning in the wood stove to keep the place warm. It's quiet without a TV, but I don't really miss it. We're all relaxing after dinner, reading, in our own worlds.

I've got a copy of Fantasy & Science Fiction open, a magazine I've subscribed to since the late '60's. Reading an excellent story by Stephen Popkes called "Tom Kelley's Ghost". Ran across a couple good lines I may want to use for quotes in my other weblog. One: "We all do what we must to occupy ourselves until quitting time." The other: "Nobody is a secondary character in their own story." Lots I could write about on those two lines, especially the first one. Maybe I'll get a chance later, but as for now it's getting late, and I must sleep.


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Day 4: Monday 7/16

Dreamlog: I am at a family reunion at my parent's house in Connecticut. Nick is outside with his cousins. They're playing a strange game of hide and seek where whoever is "It" must put on a crab costume, complete with large red plasic claws, and go hide. Meanwhile all the other kids cover their eyes and count to fifty, and then go look for him.

The kids are complaining because no matter who is "It", the other kids always find him easily, there's no challenge to the game. I volunteer to play, putting on the crab suit. "You'll have a hard time finding me!" I boast, waving a plastic claw. The kids have all closed their eyes and are counting while I go looking for a hiding place. I'm shocked to find that the yard is completely open, no place to hide except for a small shrub on the northeast edge of the property. I hide behind it as best I can, knowing it is futile. The kids finish their count and come running straight for the shrub, finding me easily.

I look at my watch as I wake up, it's 7:30. I think is is the time my natural alarm clock goes off. (I love being able to sleep this late, back home I have to get up before 6:00 in order to get to work anywhere close to on time.) Viv and Nick have gone for an early walk on the beach, it's low tide. (Nick has been getting into following the tides, making sure to go out exploring when it is the lowest so he can check on the marine life.)

I take a minute to scribble a few notes on the weird dream I had, deciding to to add it as a dreamlog entry to my weblog. Hide and seek in a crab costume, I wonder what Freud would make of that one? I think of turning on the radio while I'm having my coffee but decide against it, preferring the solitude, listening to the "silence". I hear birds calling in the distance, inside the crackle and hiss of the wood stove. I look at the maps while sipping my coffee, we're thinking of going into Seattle today.

I step out onto the deck to finish my coffee. Everything is still quite damp from last night's rain. There is a large slug on the railing, looks like it is just glued there. The thing is, I remember seeing it when I first woke up and it was about two feet away from where it is now. I look closely at it, it is moving so slow that unless you look at it extremely closely you would guess that it is standing still.

I think of how this would be a good analogy of life, in a way. People grow and change as time goes by. If you look at yourself from one week to the next, or when you get older even one year to the next, it's hard to notice any big differences. But if you think back on where you were ten or twenty years ago, (or for you younger folks, maybe five years ago), the differences, physical and mental become more apparent. Although eventually entropy will get the best of all of us, we can make some gains in the mental, spiritual and emotional aspects of our lives before then, as we travel the path of life.

Still kinda chilly in the cottage so I go outside to split up some more wood for the fire. Back inside, I look out at the deck rail. The slug has moved about half a foot further, he's up on top of the rail now, looking over the edge towards the ocean. I think this would make a great Larson type comic, the slug leaning over the rail, shouting "I'm the king of the world!" like Leonardo in "Titanic".

9:15 AM: I put on my shorts and cross-trainers, time to go for a run. (actually I don't run very fast (or very far), but it sounds cooler than saying "I'm going jogging.") I feel like I really need the exercise. It's still quite cool out, but I warm up by the time I've climbed the steep driveway to the road. The air is damp and smells of moss and wood smoke, makes me think of camping.

Sandy Hook Road reminds me of Highland Lake, a place in northwestern Connecticut where I used to go swimming and boating years ago. Observations while running: Mailboxes shaped like fish, totem poles, raspberry vines creeping over the edge of the blacktop, ferns uncurling at the base of a tall evergreen, a moss covered branch that has fallen from a tree, paper-plate signs advertising a party that is long over.

11:00 AM: I stop next door to ask Paul & Heidi if I can look up the address for Archie McPhee's Store. We've decided to go into Seattle today, and that place is on our "must see" list. They let me use their PC to get the address and directions from the website. Paul suggests taking the Bainbridge Ferry into town. He works in downtown Seattle, that's how he gets to work. He says it's much easier than driving all the way around through Bremerton and Tacoma. I tell him Viv has a phobia about boats from a near-drowning experience when she was younger.

I talk to Paul for a while, find out he's a programmer. I tell him about the company I work for, our division makes satellites. He mentions Boeing, and how if I ever wanted to move up this way I could probably get a job there. Realizing it's getting late, I thank them for their help and head back to the cottage. Viv and Nick are waiting, ready to go.

On the road, Viv, seeing how long a drive it is, says maybe we should've taken the ferry. Since we're already close to Bremerton, I suggest that we finish the drive into town, and return on the boat. That way we don't have to worry about getting stuck in traffic on the way back. We hit some traffic going into town, but it looks like the cars going the opposite way have it even worse. I'm glad Viv is willing to be brave enough to take the ferry back.

Driving through Seattle, the atmosphere is much mellower than the last city we drove through (San Francisco). It's raining a little when we get to Archie's, but by now we're getting used to it. The store is amazing, just like we imagined it would be. To call it a toy store really doesn't do it justice. It's not like Toys R Us, it's more like Toys R Weird. We end up with a good assortment of stuff in our shopping basket: chili pepper lights, Monster Women salt and pepper shakers, 50's Sci-Fi post cards, steel ball bearings, a Big Kahuna baseball hat, and gargoyles for my computer, among other things. I look at my watch, we've been in the store for about three hours. Talking to the cashier, she says how one couple and their kids on a vacation trip to Seattle spent several hours two days in a row at the store.

After we leave the store, we drive over to the Chittenden Locks to watch them lower the boats from the river down to the Sound. The guide gives a talk, explaining how they work, as they lower a yacht down. They also have a fish ladder for the salmon, and we get to see them in action, swimming upstream against the current.

We go down to a viewing room, with glass panels below the water line. You can see the fish struggling against the current. There is one good sized salmon with a terrible gash in his back, must be about a third of the length of his body and close to two inches deep. I'm amazed the fish is even alive, let alone trying to make it's way upstream to spawn. The guide says that the fish was either hit by a boat propeller or suffered the injuries while escaping from a predator. The fish has little chance of surviving long enough to make it to the spawning grounds, and yet, against all odds, he continues struggling to push his way upstream.

The will to survive is strong in all forms of life on our planet, including man. A couple years ago I saw Beck Weathers give a talk of his ordeal on Everest. (A truly inspirational speaker, well worth seeing, if you ever get a chance.) Although highly unlikely, I like to think that like Beck, this salmon will also survive his premature brush with death.

We drive down to the docks, and onto the ferry to return to the peninsula. Viv is a little nervous, I give her a lot of credit for being willing to go on the boat. After waiting a while they start directing cars onto the boat, from several lanes over to our right. Trying to do a rough estimate by rows, I figure they will have well over a hundred cars on board by the time they get to us. I don't know how many the ferry holds, so I'm concerned that we may have to wait until the next boat arrives. As it turn out I was worried for nothing. When our turn comes, we drive up the ramp and park towards the rear on the outside starboard section of the upper level. Many other vehicles are loaded on after ours.

The ferry leaves the harbor and I get out of the car to stand along the side. A few others are doing the same, and some have gone up to the upper deck. Most people near us are staying in their cars. The ferry is moving along at a pretty good rate of speed, maybe 20 miles per hour. Viv and Nick get out of the car and join me, looking back towards Seattle receding in the distance. The breeze blowing in at us is strong and cold, we huddle behind a pillar. There are a couple of gulls following the ferry. Viv wants to toss them a cracker, but I tell her that the wind will only blow it back at us.

It's a short trip from the landing on Bainbridge Island back to where we are staying. I miss the turn for Sandy Hook and have to double back, but soon enough we are back at the cottage. We're quite tired, it's been a long day. After dinner we read for a while before going to bed. I still don't miss the TV. I've decided to spend more time reading and writing and less time watching the tube, when we get back to California.


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Day 5: Tuesday 7/17

Dreamlog: I am packing impossibly large objects into the trunk of our rental car. (A small oak table, an overstuffed chair, a full size mirror with a gold-leaf frame...) The people who want these things moved are pleased that I am able to accomodate them. (They are strangers, but I feel that the person I am in the dream knows them.) I have the power to shrink the objects down to a manageable size by simply compressing them with my hands, that's how I fit them into the trunk. (I can't think too much about it while I'm doing it though, or it won't work.)

Whe we get to our destination, I take the objects out of the trunk. I try to stretch them back to their original size, but it doesn't work. The objects stretch partway back, distorted, then they break into pieces. Everyone is disappointed with me, so I leave.

I drive down to the docks and rent a rowboat to get some exercise. I row the boat out from the dock onto the glassy lake as the morning fog is lifting. I realize that I forgot to put on a life jacket, in violation of the rules of the boat rental. So what? I don't feel like turning back now, it's a beautiful day. I continue to row out towards the middle of the lake..

I wake up at 7:22 AM and jot down a few notes about the dream I just had, another strange one. (If anyone reading this wants to take a shot at analyzing it, feel free to send me your interpretation.)

Outside it's cloudy and cool, but no rain. Viv & Nick are out walking the beach again, their morning ritual. I'm sipping my coffee, enjoying the solitude. No work to do, no project deadlines to worry about, alone and free to let my mind wander.

I start thinking about a line spoken by a character on last week's "Six Feet Under": "We're born alone, we die alone...". That's the human condition, I guess. We all live inside our shells, most of the time. We have a shell that we put on to go to work, one for our families, one for our friends... Sometimes our shells are thick and hard, at other times they're paper thin. We find things in common: sports, church, hobbies, etc. in order to share our time with others, but in the end we're still alone, following our own path. Once in a while, for those closest to us, we let our guards down altogether, but that's more the exception than the rule.

I remember the thread of a Sci Fi story (or maybe it was a show, or a movie?) where there was an alien being from a culture that shared consciousness with it's fellow beings. This being felt sadness and pity for the humans, who had to live their lives alone, physically close to each other, yet separate entities, going our own ways. Each of us never totally knowing what any other person is truly thinking or feeling. I don't mean this to sound depressing, it's just an observation. If anything, I don't think I'd want it any other way. Life would be pretty stifling, in my opinion, if we all knew each other's thoughts. (And I'd probably get my face slapped by a lot of pretty women, too!)

After lunch, I go into town to the store and the Laundromat with Nick. (Viv, in a domestic mood, wants to stay back at the cottage to do some knitting and cooking.) It's been a while since I had to wash clothes at a laundromat, I'm surprised at how expensive it is. Some of the people know each other, make small talk. An older woman is having trouble getting the change machine to work. I help her to straighten out the bill so the machine will accept it.

I sit back and read my Sci Fi magazine, waiting for the clothes to dry. Nick has collected up some Lego pieces to play with that another kid left behind. The woman who manages the laundry is sweeping the floor, I lift my feet so she can sweep under the chairs. We talk about the weather a little (it's raining outside) before she moves on. I wouldn't mind living here, the people in this town are friendly.

After the laundry is done, Nick and I go down to the docks to rent a canoe. The lady tells me that they only rent kayaks now, but convinces me that if I know how to paddle a canoe I should have no trouble with a kayak. It turns out she is right. Before long Nick and I are paddling across Liberty Bay, if not exactly experts, at least looking reasonably competent. We see some harbor seals, and lift the paddles to drift quietly past them. Along the shore we spot a heron, some coots, a kingfisher, and a small flock of Canadian geese that have taken up residence on a cottage lawn.

We stop and talk to the guide for a few minutes after we dock. I tell him where we are from, about our trip from LA to Washington. He tells us he just returned from a trip to Colorado. We talk a little about Colorado (I used to live there), and then we have to leave.

Back at the cottage, we play fetch with the dogs then go for a walk on the beach. Later on, I cook some steaks on the gas grill for dinner, throwing a handfull of chopped onions on the coals to flavor the meat. I kick back in the hammock for a while after dinner, feeling tired but content. It's been a full day.


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Day 6: Tuesday 7/18

Up at the usual time, Nick & Viv gone to the beach again. While stoking the fire, I recue an old copy of local paper that was in with the kindling. Over a cup of coffee, I peruse the classifieds from June 16th. Almost a month old but close enough for this ritual, which I've performed many times before in just about every town I visit, on vacation or business travel: "If I moved here, where would I work, and where would I live?"

Viv & Nick really like it here, it's a lot more rural than where we live. But there aren't that many job opportunities on the Kitsap Peninsula. I suppose I could look at taking the ferry in to Seattle to work, but even if I got a job close to downtown, that would still be at least a couple hours a day total commuting. There are openings at Boeing, but that's further south on the mainland, probably 1 1/2 hrs each way from here, I just don't want to give up that much of every day.

If we really wanted to live here on the peninsula, I could cash in all my equity and we might try to open up some type of business to sell something to the tourists. If that didn't work out we could get a cheap apartment in Bremerton. I might get a job as a plumber, and Viv could work at the Pup-O-Mat, washing dogs. Maybe I'd eventually get in good with the locals and become a Real Estate Salesman...

If I were younger and didn't have a kid, I might consider it. But there's a lot to be said for having a steady job with medical benefits and a 401K, when you're looking at putting a kid through college in 6 or 7 years, and with any luck being able to retire 10 years after that. I'd probably just as soon stay where I'm at for now, wait and move after I retire. Yeah, the LA area is smoggy and crowded, but I do have a good job, with nearly 4 weeks paid vacation a year. We have cheap rent, I've only got a 20 minute commute to work, and we're able to live on one income so Viv is able to do home schooling with Nick. I'd be hard pressed to give all that up...

After luch we take a ride into town. Viv wants to check out the shops, and Nick wants her to see where we went kayaking. We have no luck getting a parking place though, everything is full. Back at the cottage, Viv wants to just relax and do some knitting. Nick and I are bored, so we take a ride up to Point No Point at the top of the peninsula. It's a beautiful day, the sun is shining, and we walk along the beach near the lighthouse, watching a container ship pass by offshore, creating some good sized wake waves. Then we stop at a park, tossing a football around for a while, enjoying the sun.

Later in the afternoon we all drive back into town,stopping at a book store, then a yarn shop. I walk across the street to the coffee house, looking for a paper. The young woman working there is friendly, but they have no local papers. Walking back to the yarn shop, I think about what it would be like running a coffee house. Probably a great job for a writer, meeting interesting people (and easy access to caffeinated beverages).

On the ride home we talk about going to Olympic National Park. Nick doesn't want to go, he wants to stay at the cottage and walk the beach at low tide. He's getting a little obsessed with the beach and the tides, I think. Later on, Bill (neighbor) takes Nick and Cindy (Bill's dog) out for a canoe ride. Then we all decide to turn in early, want to get a good night's sleep before the drive up to the national park in the morning. It's almost 9:30, but the daylight isn't totally gone yet. I really like the long summer sunsets up north. (The short days in the winter up here wouldn't be as much fun, though)

Before bed, I'm thinking about how I've gotten away from the mainstream media on this vacation: no TV, no Internet, not even reading the daily paper. My mind is free to do other things: explore the area, meet new people, catch up on my reading, take notes for my writing. I don't miss the TV at all. In fact, feel that my intelligence level has increased (if only a little bit) on this vacation.

I'm reading "The Real Thing", an excellent story by Carolyn Ives Gilman in the July issue of F & SF Magazine. The story is about marketing fads, and a man who figured out how to get rich by selling people what they crave. The woman in the story is upset with the way things are, thinks that journalists should be writing about the facts, important stories that need to be told, not just writing stories that sell copy. the man says what he does is based on the "Urge Pyramid". At the bottom are the primal urges of sex, hunger, and aggression. Only after these are sated do people want to be stimulated by the mid-level urges of beauty, novelty, and sentiment. At the top is rational thought, the last thing people want.

Gilman's words ring true, in my opinion, and I'm probably just as guilty as the rest of the rubes out there in helping her vision of the future along. Ratings drive the programming. When I want to relax with something mindless, I watch my share of sex and violence on the tube. The Internet is just as bad. I'm sure the popular news services push the stories that get the most clicks ahead of the "real" news. Again, I'm guilty of helping them along. During a coffee break at work, given a choice between clicking on an article about the latest war in Whocaresistan or a story about women painting drugs on their naked breasts in order to rob unsuspecting truck drivers in South America, which one do you think I'll click on?

Oh well, enough philosophy for tonight. It's getting late and I need to sleep.


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Day 7: Thursday 7/19

We wake up at 6:00, want to get on the road early for our trip to Olympic National Park. We drive up the 3 to Port Gamble, then cross over the Hood Canal Bridge. The sun is trying to break through the clouds, the scenery is beautiful. Traffic is light, and before to long we're at Port Angeles, one of the main entrances to the National Park.

We stop at the Visitor's Center near the entrance, pick up a map and some souvenirs. Viv buys a stuffed animal puppet, an otter, that looks pretty realisic considering it's made with synthetic fur. She jokes around with it in the car, making it "talk", as we continue our ride into the park.

We see a lot of deer on the drive up. We slow down when they are near the road, not wanting to hit them. You can tell they aren't hunted here, they don't seem to be afraid of people or cars.

The sky has turned overcast and gloomy, and it appears to be getting worse the higher we climb. I have to turn on the wipers occasionally to clear the windshield. I hope it doesn't rain. We stop at a rest area, a scenic overlook. There is a picture of a view on a placard, showing the names of nearby mountains. We can't see the mountains though. Visibility is only a mile or so, after that it's a grey wall.

Klahhane Ridge Haiku:

Mountains out of sight
The grey wall opens my mind
Peace is in the fog.


We stop at the Visitor's Center at Hurricane Ridge, deciding to get out and take a walk on the short nature trails. We immediately notice how cold it is up here. Viv is prepared, but Nick and I have to go into the visitor's center store to buy something to wear. Nick gets a sweatshirt, I pick up a shell jacket to wear over my flannel shirt.

Hiking the nature trail, we spot a large buck. We stop, and so do the people hiking behind us, as he crosses the trail, maybe 30 feet ahead of us. What a majestic animal! It's good that some of our past presidents (Cleveland, Teddy Roosevelt, and FDR) were impressed enough with this area to see that the land was set aside as a National Park.

I think back on what our ancestors, or before them the Indians, would think upon sighting such a large buck so close at hand. Most likely they'd go for the rifle (or the bow), and if their aim was good, have a few hundred pounds of venison to feed the tribe. Maybe smoke or dry some of it to set aside, help them make it through the long cold winter...

After hiking for a while, we decide to get back on the road. It's too bad the weather is so cloudy today, we haven't been able to see any of the majestic mountain views that are on the postcards.

Driving back through Port Angeles, I play around with the car radio and pick up a local station. They have a public service spot on, offering help in dealing with domestic violence and substance abuse. Being here on vacation and seeing the National Park, it's hard to believe people up here would have these types of issues. But that's not being realistic. "People are people, wherever you go", as they say. Port Angeles is like any other town. Just because it's located near beautiful scenery doesn't make the locals any more likely to be immune to the problems of addiction or abuse.

By the time we get back to the cottage, the weather has cleared again. It's actually pretty warm out, so Nick talks me into going in the pool. The water is too cold for me, though. I decide to relax on a chaise lounge poolside, while Nick stays in the water. He gets bored and goes back up to the house, while I remain behind and take a short nap.

After dinner, we start making plans for the next day. We'll have to spend some time getting things ready for our trip back. Maybe we'll check out the llama farm nearby that we saw in the brochure.


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Day 8: Friday 7/20

I wake up about 7:30, It's a bright sunny morning, different from the usual fog and clouds we've been seeing. Viv wants to work on cleaning the cottage this morning (part of our rental agreement is to leave the place as we found it). Nick and I head into town to pick up a few things at the grocery store that we will need for the trip back. After shopping, we stop at a pay phone and I call and make reservations for us to take a tour of the LLama Farm.

Back at the cottage, we eat a light lunch, then head out. The llama farm is about 5 miles outside of town, but that's far enough from Poulsbo (population approx 7,000) to be out in the country. The rolling hills and farm houses we pass remind me of driving through the foothills on the back roads in New England, where I grew up.

We arrive at our destination and are greeted by the owner, Winifred, a former Wall Street Bond Analyst. She gives us a tour the gardens, a pretty impressive variety of plants and flowers. We stop by the house, I get to see some of her artistic photography (another of her hobbies), then we go out to see the llamas and camels. Viv and Nick are animal lovers, they enjoy petting and feeding the the furry little beasts, while I mostly hang back and take in the scenery, enjoy the peaceful surroundings. If you ever get a chance to visit this area of the country, I highly recommend stopping by to visit the Winifred and her llamas. She's a true "Renaissance Woman", in my opinion, and has really created something beautiful here.

We get back into town later in the afternoon, and stop at the Poulsbo Marine Museum. We spend some time looking at the displays, and I buy a souvenir T-Shirt for Viv. Nick is having problems with his allergies today (maybe from the llamas?) so we don't stay too long. Back at the cabin, I fire up the gas grill for the last time and cook up some steaks. After dinner, I help Viv finish some of the cleaning and packing, then we set our alarm and go to bed. Gonna get up early, try to finish packing and be on the road by 8:00. Got a long two days drive ahead of us to get back to LA.


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