Archives for July 2023

Bellingham is a pretty town in the Northwest corner of the country. Fairhaven, where we’ll be staying, is a jewel of a village with wonderful bakeries and coffee shops, but that’s not what brings most people here. It’s the abundant natural beauty; the bay, the forests crisscrossed with bike trails, the opportunities for rock climbing and mountain climbing. The San Juan islands are a ferry ride away, and you can just about see Canada if you squint.

This is not my usual solo journey to foreign capitals to gorge my soul on art. This is a family-centric venture, traveling with my spouse and daughter to visit with my son and daughter-in-law who are Fairhaven residents. My son, who’s worked as an Alpine guide, is with the Bellingham Fire Department. Yes, he is absolutely a BFD.

We’ve got a family Google doc going, courtesy of my capable daughter who wrangles movie schedules for a living. We’ve plugged in the main events and locations. At the top of the list, we’re hoping to wander in the enchanted forest

as well as BFD station 6, Mt. Erie’s Squamish Bay overlook, Christianson’s Nursery, the community gardens, and maybe a yarn shop or two. There’s a wonderful boardwalk along the bay that’s just my speed, and I will gladly stand in line for Iron Rooster pastry.

Today I brought out my suitcase list, and have been sorting items by day rather than by type. The criteria for clothing shifted due to the expectation of outdoor activities. Nothing hardcore athletic for me, but not drifting along hallowed museum halls either.

There’ll be a bike festival in town, the Northwest Tune-Up, that’s music and mountain bike-themed. My son and daughter-in-law are devoted to all things athletic and outdoorsy and my fearless daughter bikes the traffic-clogged streets of Atlanta and they can partake with my blessing. I’ll be at the bakery.
I’m about 3/4ths packed. All boot-cut yoga pants, no jeans. Black and white. Layers. And I did something fun to my hair.

The weather forecast is fantastic, 50s-70s and blue skies. The flight is Wednesday. I fired up the apps I haven’t used since London – Delta, Uber, and AirB&B are all good to go, and so am I.

The travel day was like most – up early propelled by twin threads of anxiety (missing the flight) and excitement (adrenalin surge of anticipation). I hope I packed wisely, if not, my son’s closet looks like the Patagonia catalogue and something will wrap around me.  Wakeup call at 5 am, left the house at 6:15. Our house/dog/garden sitter is driving us, and picking up daughter Robin en route.

My frequent flying daughter wrangled us through the obstacle agility course of Hartsfield. New to us: the lower level check-in where we are identified by face scans. The automated carry-on baggage check procedures. Familiar, the people with backpacks the size and weight of boulders, stolidly unaware of the hazards they present. We nimbly duck and weave our way to the Delta Skylounge and are gazing out at Delta airplanes gliding along on the runway.

It took 45 minutes from our daughter’s front door to the Skylounge, thanks to TSA precheck and her expertise. I had a small rolling bag with a change of clothes, knitting, my computer, and a cornucopia of support electronics; Bose headset, iPods x 2, iPad, iPhone and all their chargers. These give me a shot at quiet, music, audiobooks, books to read, and communication once we land. Also snacks. Nothing healthy. It was an unremarkable four-and-a-half-hour flight. The highlight was the overhead view of Mount Ranier.

I acknowleged I was in the Kingdom of Starbucks with a chai latte, followed by the usual rental car rigamarole and then a two hours drive to Bellingham from Seattle. Robin drove and navigated the AirB&B check-in procedure.  Easy peasy. I still felt like a handful of chicken wire smushed into a ball.

There was a joyous reunion with my son and we hit the classy grocery store for basic provisions. Dinner was pizzas with much talk and shared laughter, and I stumbled to bed at 9:30, Bellingham time.

Tomorrow, firestation #2

In five minutes walk, three rabbits. I think the town should consider a name change.

After waffles at Mount Bakery, we toured Fire Station #2. It gave us a real sense of Parker’s cohort: people with pride in their capabilities, and a keen appreciation for the community they serve.

The flag of Bellingham. I’m looking for a tea towel with that design.

Robin wanted to try on Parker’s gear. We all got into the act. Captain Carsen kindly endured our shenanigans.

It weighs a ton. Getting into it was a full-body workout for me. The helmet feels like you could bounce a brick off of it, no problem. It’s not a bug, it’s a feature.

We swung by one of the two community gardens tended by Julia, a proud urban farmer. Her strawberry crop has been stellar this year.

Afterward, we strolled through the Enchanted Forest, crisscrossed with bike trails and peaceful as can be. Golden light filters through the canopy, ferns carpet the forest floor, and you stumble upon impromptu shrines, like this Buddha in the cleft of a tree.

We picked up dinner from Bantam and ate in the Airb&b. Our accommodations are one of those lucky choices that’s turned out better than our best hopes. Walk to everything location, pristine, spacious, intelligently designed, and thoughtfully appointed. So good. But even with a solid nap, it was an early night for me. Tomorrow is Parker’s 34th birthday.

Bellingham has bags of charm. It’s the Stars Hollow of the northwest. People stop when I’m approaching a crosswalk and wait patiently for me to get to the other side of the road. The morning air is a fresh and temperate 60 degrees, the afternoons are not much hotter and the humidity feels non-existent. They take their gardening seriously. Not only in multiple community gardens and swanky hillside homes, but along the sidewalks, behind apartments, and even in the parking lots.

Ragnar Relay Northwest Passage race, from Canada to Whidbey Island, and the Northwest Tune Up, a mountain bike and music festival, are in town but traffic is minimal and people are polite. The pastry shops are amazing. You can walk everywhere. I could totally live here.

We drove up Mount Erie, to a surprisingly accessible path that led us to sweeping vistas of Whidbey Island and Deception Pass.

From there we drove to Christianson’s Nursery in the Skagit Valley, home to many flower farmers of renown like Floret. The show garden was closed, reserved for a wedding party, but we could still marvel at the variety of plants and the gorgeous hydrangea hedge.

After a reviving coffee from Tweets and a pastry from Breadfarm in Edison plus a Make Bread Not War teeshirt, it was back to Fairhaven for a pre-birthday dinner nap for me and a bike ride for Parker and Robert.

A perfect mild evening for a celebratory dinner al fresco at Estelle under a fringed white umbrella. It had a fancy tapas vibe. The birthday boy topped off his meal with a celebratory triple scoop of chocolate, cookies and cream, and Madagascar vanilla.

A morning stroll in this temperate climate is a treat. Texted my husband that hey, we could live here! With the WGA/SAG AFTRA on strike and Hollywood shut down, he could hang a Gone Fishin’ sign on his business and we could rent a place for a couple of months to see how we like it. Just putting it out there.
 
Hit up the Iron Rooster for croissants and two peach pies (our contribution to dinner at the fire station), dropped everything off at the Airb&b, and checked out Julia’s other community garden plot, which is dedicated to flowers; roses, dahlias, scabiosa, and bachelor buttons. A neighboring rooster was indignant we were so near his territory.

The ladies visited my favorite yarn store, Spin Cycle, where I picked up a skein of Twilight Honey and Robin picked out a mohair and DK wool in beautiful icy lavender that matches her puffy ski jacket. I can’t wait to knit her a classic beanie in this dreamy color (matching pompom not shown).

Next, we swung by Fanatik for a bike part for Parker and Robin scored a tee shirt with the Bellingham area bike trails on the back. So cool and in the true spirit of the place.

I went back for a rest while Robert checked out local flora (sunflowers) and fauna (ferret). I liked the sidewalk busker soundtrack.

Robin and Julia visited the local museum and found the top floor packed with enough taxidermied birds to satisfy Audubon, including an entire Hogwarts’ post office worth of owls.

Afterward, they checked out the vendor tents at the Northwest Tune-up mountain bike festival. Julia hung from handlebars, a stunt that qualified her for a drawing for a pricey piece of mountain bike gear. She also scored the best time for women entrants. if you think this is impressive, you should watch her scamper up sheer boulders.

Around 6 pm we rendezvoused for dinner at Fire Station 6 and took another station tour.

We took some family photos in the App Bay, which is the cleanest room you can imagine. Every inch of the vehicles gleamed. 

The captain was welcoming and hospitable, a genuinely nice man. We met the crew; all smart, skilled men who exuded decency.

They made the dinner, we brought the pie.

Last full day. Parker got off his 24-hour shift with four hours sleep (total). His way of dealing is to stay up and sleep hard the next night, and we rode out to see Hoag’s pond. So peaceful.  The water brims with an abundance of aquatic plants and rushes. There’s a soft rustle of wind through the leaves. A trio of ducks on the pond plish-plash, tails up and beak down. It’s a gentler kinder version of nature.

I have not missed the grind of construction, the constant growl of leafblowers, or the din of traffic that Atlanta serves up.

En route to lunch, Parker guided us to a protected nesting site for the great blue herons. Humans are safely sequestered at a distance that does not disturb the bird. It took me a minute, (blame it on cataracts) but once I saw the first giant nest, I kept finding more. The herons construct their nests high in the trees. It reminded me of a crow’s nest at the top of a ship’s mast. The herons swooped through the sky on the regular, with wingspans so wide I could see them even with my limited vision. Bringing back lunch from the nestlings, one hopes. 

It was thrilling.

Our next stop was seafood, too. Full disclosure, when I hear there’s a place that serves fish and chips on the waterfront, I picture a rackety shed, redolent of grease and fried fish with a salty tang. This place was all chrome and glass inside a large edifice of brick, a mini-mall interior for the tourists. It lacked atmosphere, but the fish and chips were okay, eaten outside on the pier.

We went back to the Northwest Tune-up vendor market of all things mountain biking. Parker scored this handlebar basket rig, ideal for transporting his dog Sammy.

Robin and I hit another yarn store. I needed a replacement for a dented circ needle and it’s always fun to look. Check out this piratical knitter’s Jolly Roger. Says it all, amirite?

Back at the AirB&B I napped before packing in preparation for tomorrow’s departure. Robin retired to a shady spot under an enormous tree behind the nearby Firehouse Café which boasts this awesome signage.

She took full advantage of the relaxed vibe.

Dinner was pizza from a joint a few blocks away, and at the end of the day, we drove up into the hills to watch the sundown over the bay. It didn’t disappoint.