Changes...Destiny

     Our destination was just ahead, a week-long stay with friends from long ago (as in 50 years past); we would be shown a side of Seattle I wasn't aware of, partially because it had been so long since I last lived there but also because our friends lived in a part of Seattle far distant from town on the northwest side and one a bit closer to the rather-large University of Washington.  We would be treated to bike rides in the day and eclectic jazz jams late at night (in a Canadian hockey bar, no less), eating at famous and not-so-known places with equal gusto, and venturing onto just one of many ferries that crisscross the many islands dotting the waters of Puget Sound; we would see both sunny (but chilly) days and a downpour that lasted days (a welcome sight for the area which had only gotten a quarter inch of rain in the past three months); and we would see everything from a massive troll carved under a freeway (rather famous, it turns out) to a huge bronze statue of Lenin rescued and shipped over from a dump in Poland by a Slovakian artist, and now resting on a street corner (really!).  We would visit wineries* as well as warehouse-like wine stores, and cross many bridges both on foot and in a car, as if mimicking the fish ladders where salmon were using the last of their energy to fulfill their instinctual drive to spawn (viewing them through the observation windows made any human struggles seem rather pale by comparison); and we would eat as if diets and health were of no concern (my annual physical was scheduled to arrive just a few weeks after this trip...gulp!).

One of the views atop Mt. Constitution on Orcas Island

    It had been decades since I last visited Seattle so our friends gave us a tour as if we were newcomers, which we now were.  Their home overlooked the Olympics, a mountain range known for its rainforests (the Hoh rainforest receives over 12 feet of rain annually) but in turn, buffers the lands behind it.  This protective "barrier" diverts the wind and rain and drops the rainfall that makes it inland to "just" 30 inches on the mainland and cutting it even more to the 176 islands that dot the area (as many as 400 are often counted but 176 is the number often cited as actual islands in the area).  And as if to tease us with yet another part of this area, we were now on an island in this "shadow" rainforest (so-called because of the lower rainfall and milder climate)...Orcas Island, the largest and most mountainous of the San Juan Islands.  

    Evidence of early human occupation had been traced to 12,000 years ago, but today the islands are rich with homes, shops, and roads weaving their way into this national monument.  Said then-President Obama in his declaration of the site:  These islands form an un matched landscape of contrasts, where forests seem to spring from gray rock and distant snow=capped peaks provide the backdrop for sandy beaches. That said, it was easy to forget that this (and the others) were indeed islands, places where trash had to be shipped out, and electricity had to be brought in (by undersea cables).  Water is limited to what wells and watersheds exist (similar to what Hawaii faces), and when the weather turns rough, the island can return to its primitive roots (said one flyer about living there: During winter storms, power outages are just something we accept as part of the wonder of island living).  As of a few years ago, that was the attitude of the nearly 8000 residents who call the island home.

    From our vantage point high above Mt. Constitution in Moran State Park, it was easy to imagine explorer George Vancouver seeing all of this for the first time in the late 1700s (he would go on to name the area for one of his lieutenants, Peter Puget), trying to grasp what the early inhabitants had known all along, that this was a rich and diverse area full of life both on and off the land.  And not many years later, the area would be full of steamboats ready to explore even further.  In the distance, the snow-covered volcano mountains of Mt. Baker, Rainier, and St. Helens, would provide both guidance and instability.  But for now, all that was here was something that only the mountains and the sea could teach...taking one's time.  

     Our hour-long ferry ride was but one of many in which we, just as with earlier explorers, could not fathom the enormity of where we were.  For one, all of this was merely a prelude to even getting to the Pacific, one of only two ways in or out of the ocean.  And yet these waters seemed so vast (cruise ships take the Sound (often termed the Inside Passage)  while nuclear subs take the Strait of Juan de Fuca).  It was easy to imagine early sailing ships entering and wondering where all of these waterways would end.  But none of them (or us) could imagine that this was once all covered in ice; Seattle alone was buried under 3000 feet of ice before the glaciers retreated, leaving these carved canyons and mountain ranges to fill with ocean water and create a new total of 3000 miles of coastline.

    Alas, as with the glaciers, it was time for us to leave as well.  A quick detour over to another set of islands (the nearby Whidbey Island is the longest island in the Western U.S., and second only to Long Island back east), a few more ferry rides and before long, we found ourselves waking up and packing our bags for the flight home.  It would be good to be home, but it would also be sad to leave.  But as with all new adventures, we were not really leaving anywhere for this area had implanted itself into our memory (we only had to look at our bellies now and then to be reminded that we had had enjoyed some great food as well).  And as we took a final look at the waters, we felt fortunate to have been given this period of time to see yet another part of this wonderful planet, to meet some wonderful people and to have our energy and faith in goodness renewed...in short, this turned out to be far more than a getaway; this was more of a welcome home.  It had indeed changed us for the better...

*On a side note, wineries have caught on that people will visit and likely try their wines no matter what, and have priced their tastings accordingly; ours was $25 for 4 rather small vials of wine varieties which you don't get to choose.  Since I'm not much of a wine drinker, having to endure the bubbly white, and the uneventful other two varietals before encountering a red that was basically a gulp, I was a bit miffed at how much had changed since my early years.  I recognize that this is just the way it is now and that things have changed since my early years spent living near the Napa-Sonoma area and visiting many of the wineries there, all before charging for wine tastings became the norm (back in the day you could choose which wines you wanted to sample).  That said, the jump from a $10 tasting of wine in glasses to a $25 tasting of wine in 2-oz. vials seems a bit over the top, but apparently is a regular practice these days in many wine-producing areas (okay, they do have to make money somehow to keep up their often-beautiful grounds and tasting rooms).  As to the retail wine stores themselves, Washington state has a rather hefty "tariff" on hard liquor (the highest in the U.S.), in addition to a "spirits" tax and a high sales tax (10.25% in Seattle)...the end result is a near-doubling of the price of a bottle (about 40%, although nowhere near as bad on beer and wine).  The benefit is that Washington state still has no state income tax...so if you don't smoke (tobacco or cannabis) or drink, you're in the money!  Gripe and grumble, happy and sad, don't let any of this take away from visiting such places as overall it's a small price to pay for a quietly relaxing slowdown of life...and isn't that what you're really here for?  Gulp...