Tag Archives: Washington

Dusky delta

As much as I love road trips, my hands-down favorite way to get between Tacoma, WA and Portland, OR is by train. Especially along the Puget Sound—where the tracks run literally inches from the shore—the views are absolutely gobsmacking. On this day, I was lucky enough to have a flawlessly sunny afternoon (in April that’s tantamount to a miracle round these parts) for my solo trip, and a return ticket at sunset. And best of all, the lovely conductor at the Portland station saw me sketching in the lobby—when he came to me in the boarding queue, he pointed at my sketchbook, gave me a wink, and assigned me a window seat on the west side of the packed train.

Wherever you are, Mr. Conductor, you completely made my day. Thanks a million.

U.F. Uh-Oh

When the Tailor and I drove to Texas last year, we planned our return route around my decades-long desire to visit Roswell, NM. I was so excited to see what kind of alien-themed kitsch would be waiting for me that I banned myself from looking online to see exactly what was there. I just didn’t want to spoil the surprise. But I did daydream about the possibilities—giant replicas of crash-landed UFOs! Thirty-foot little green men! Alien-head-shaped doughnuts! Intergalactic ferris wheels! Postcards that glow under blacklight! Costumed interpreters! Tinfoil park-ranger hats! Saucer-shaped souvenir stands on every corner! Newsstands devoted solely to the Weekly World News! Cheesy space junk encrusting every square inch of the town! I was positively quivering with anticipation.

Well, I so want to be able to tell you that it lived up to my most ridiculous fantasies—but alas, I can’t. There weren’t alien tchotchkes everywhere, nor were we surrounded by roadside attractions. All we really found was a museum (closed that day), a couple of sparse souvenir shops, and a handful of scattered E.T. effigies—so few, in fact, that I couldn’t even fill one whole spread in my sketchbook. And that makes me sad, because just think of the things Roswell could learn from somewhere like Wall Drug!

I’ve stumbled across more UFO kitsch in completely random places than I found by scouring Roswell that day. For example, in Everett, WA is a charming saucer-shaped park shelter. There’s no connection to alien lore that I know of (except maybe its proximity to the Boeing factory), but it’s charming nonetheless. How cool would this be in Roswell?!?

And then there is the totally inexplicable—and completely awesome—pair of alien-themed barbeque (!?) restaurants in North Dakota, of all places. I got to revisit the Fargo location last summer with the Tailor—and the poor man got treated to my rant about how this was how alien kitsch was done, people. Chrome dinettes and all, thank you very much.

Oh, if only I had the means to start a proper UFO tourist trap in Roswell. It would be a beautiful (and eye-frying) thing to behold.

On island time

When my best friend Elizabeth came to visit last year, she told me she’d always wanted to visit the San Juan Islands. So we packed every bit of waterproof gear we had and headed north for a girls-only trip.

We spent a good chunk of our trip on various boats—

—which, even in spring’s constant cold drizzle, is the best way to see the islands (and their inhabitants!) in all their misty glory.

Still, even though we’d gladly risk pneumonia any day to catch a glimpse of an orca, it was wonderful to have a warm, cozy room to come back to at the end of the day.

We are landlubbers, after all.

Bearing fruit

The Tailor and I love peaches (and he loves canning them) so much that we’re willing to drive four hours to get them fresh from the orchard.

(Of course, that also means I get that Movin’ to the Country, Gonna Eat a Lotta Peaches song stuck in my head every year…)

You’ll find a few orchards on our side of the Cascades, but most of our famous Washington fruit is grown in the central part of the state, near the Columbia River Gorge. Crossing the mountains is a lot like entering a parallel-universe Washington, where instead of rain and emerald greens, you get high rugged cliffs and desert sun.

And sweet, delicious fruit.

So even though the farmstand ladies look at us like we can’t possibly know what we’re in for (oh, we do), we fill our tiny car to the brim—

—and break out the mason jars when we get home.

Smoke signals

Tomorrow is my fifth anniversary of living in Washington state—so in honor of the occasion, the next few posts will highlight the Pacific Northwest. It’s been fascinating to see all the faces and incarnations of Mt. Rainier in my time here (so fascinating, in fact, that I did a whole book about it). But I have never seen “the Mountain” (as we call it here) like I did on the day of this drawing. Because of the wildfires that were raging elsewhere the Cascades at that time, I was literally standing on the Mountain, and I could barely make it out.

Unfortunately, with the increase of wildfires we’ve seen in the West lately, I fear this might not be the last time I see the Mountain like this. Sending good thoughts to everyone living in areas affected by wildfires this summer.

Fresh as a daisy

This is one of my favorite signs on Highway 99—the old backbone of the West Coast. Everyone has heard of Route 66, of course, but the Old Pacific Highway is also full of aging neon and other vintage gems, from Canada to Mexico.

The Daffodil Motel sign has a special place in my heart because it references the daffodil farms that used to dominate the adjacent Puyallup Valley. Sadly, only one major daffodil farm is still operating in the valley—but those cheery yellow flowers are still a big part of the local culture here.

Fellow West Coast folks: what’s your favorite bit of neon on Highway 99?

Sea shanties

Salmon Beach might just be the best-kept secret on Puget Sound. I’d been dying to do a sketch there, and I finally got my chance a few weeks ago. The entire area is private property, and only residents and their guests are allowed. But my friend Ethan lives there, so I asked if he’d be willing to give me a tour. I had no idea that I was in for one of the best adventures I’ve had since I moved to Washington.

Salmon Beach is a neighborhood of 80-odd homes arranged in single file along the shoreline of the Tacoma Narrows. There are only two ways to get there: by boat or by descending (on foot) several hundred wooden steps leading down from the parking lot at the top of the cliff.

The way down is dizzying, and the return trip is a heckuva workout. I’d imagine that if I lived here, I’d learn quickly not to forget my keys in the car.

At the bottom is what feels like a time warp, or some sort of alternate dimension. The residents of Salmon Beach live in their own world, secluded but also open and extremely welcoming. Friendly household pets of every stripe wander around the boardwalk (they don’t run away, because where would they go?), and people greeted me with stories and tips on the best drawing spots.

I was so excited to share their world for an afternoon. Big thanks to Ethan for the grand tour, and to everyone I met that day—it feels so good to be in on the secret.

40-watt bulbs

Every year I head north to the Skagit Valley to catch the tulip fields in bloom. If you’re looking for good travel weather, spring is a tricky time of year in the Northwest. But if you manage to get there on a rare sunny day, you’ll be in for a treat. The whole valley lights up with a dazzling colored glow that seems to come from the flowers themselves.