The upcoming trip to NASA for the Cassini space mission celebration has me thinking about my favorite space and aviation books. Which books most intrigue me? I am inclined towards adventure and travel, rather than machinery. I tend to enjoy the role of women in aviation because I relate to their experiences. Given those biases, here are a few favorites. Join me in getting into the mood for adventure with some space, aviation and exploration reads and film.
Before film there were books. Before space, there was aviation. So in that order:
Aviation and Space: My Favorite Books
The first three books are about Beryl Markham who I find to be one of the most interesting characters in the history of aviation. The first is in her own words; the second a biography; and the third a historic novel. All are great reads.
One of my favorite adventure/history/travel/aviation books ever! It’s a beautifully written story of the remarkable life of aviatrix and adventurer Beryl Markham.
From Amazon:
“Markham is often described as “the first person” to fly the Atlantic east to west in a solo non-stop flight, though most now dispute this claim. When Markham decided to take on the Atlantic crossing, no pilot had yet flown non-stop from Europe to New York, and no woman had made the westward flight solo, though several had died trying. Markham hoped to claim both records. She took off from Abingdon, England. After a 20-hour flight she crash-landed at Baleine Cove on Cape Breton Island, Nova Scotia. In spite of falling short of her goal, Markham had become the first woman to cross the Atlantic east-to-west solo, and the first person to make it from England to North America non-stop. She was celebrated as an aviation pioneer. Markham chronicled her many adventures in her memoir, West with the Night, published by BN Publishing. After living for many years in the United States, Markham moved back to Kenya, becoming for a time the most successful horse trainer in the country.”
And a short excerpt to give you a sense of the wonderful prose:
Africa is mystic; it is wild; it is a sweltering inferno; it is a photographer’s paradise, a hunter’s Valhalla, an escapist’s Utopia. It is what you will and it withstands all interpretations. It is the last vestige of a dead world or the cradle of a shiny new one. To a lot of people, as to myself, it is just ‘home’. It is all these things but one thing-it is never dull.
If you only read one travel/aviation book (hah! who can only read just one!) this is it.
Mary Lovell is an accomplished biographer with an easy to read style. This is probably the definitive biography of Ms. Markham and a great read.
From Amazon:
“Born in England and raised in Kenya, Beryl Markham was a notorious beauty. She trained race horses and had scandalous affairs, but she is most remembered for being a pioneering aviatrix. She became the first woman to cross the Atlantic Ocean and the first person to make it from London to New York nonstop. In Mary S. Lovell’s definitive biography, Beryl takes on new life—vividly portrayed by a master biographer whose knowledge of her subject is unparalleled.”
Author of The Paris Wife about Ernest Hemingway’s early days and first marriage in Paris, Paula McLain is a New York Times best selling author. This book was named one of the best books of the year by NPR and is a fictional story, well told.
“In McLain’s confident hands, Beryl Markham crackles to life, and we readers truly understand what made a woman so far ahead of her time believe she had the power to soar.”—Jodi Picoult, author of Leaving Time
“Enchanting . . . a worthy heir to [Isak] Dinesen . . . Like Africa as it’s so gorgeously depicted here, this novel will never let you go.”—The Boston Globe
“Famed aviator Beryl Markham is a novelist’s dream. . . . [A] wonderful portrait of a complex woman who lived—defiantly—on her own terms.”—People (Book of the Week)
“Circling the Sun soars.”—Newsday
“Captivating . . . [an] irresistible novel.”—The Seattle Times
“Like its high-flying subject, Circling theSun is audacious and glamorous and hard not to be drawn in by. Beryl Markham may have married more than once, but she was nobody’s wife.”—Entertainment Weekly
“[An] eloquent evocation of Beryl’s daring life.”—O: The Oprah Magazine
“Markham’s life is the stuff of legend. . . . McLain has created a voice that is lush and intricate to evoke a character who is enviably brave and independent.”—NPR
“Bold, absorbing fiction.”—New York Daily News
“Paula McLain has such a gift for bringing characters to life. I loved discovering the singular Beryl Markham, with all her strengths and passions and complexities.”—Jojo Moyes, author of Me Before You
I have always been fascinated by seaplanes, particularly amphibians. And the era of flying boats intrigues me to no end. I think it’s the romance and possibility of unique adventures that resonate with my soul. I actually flew in a restored World War II Dornier and did splash and goes in Lake Tahoe. That was an amazing experience! Here is a link to a recent film of a Dornier unfortunately experiencing the water equivalent of a ground loop!
This book captures the essence of the glamor of travel by flying boat:
From Amazon:
“When the China Clipper shattered aviation records on its maiden six-day flight from California to the Orient in 1935, the flying boat became an instant celebrity. This lively history by Robert Gandt traces the development of the great flying boats as both a triumph of technology and a stirring human drama. He examines the political, military, and economic forces that drove its development and explains the aeronautical advances that made the aircraft possible. To fully document the story he includes interviews with flying boat pioneers and a dynamic collection of photographs, charts, and cutaway illustrations.”
Can you imagine taking a flying boat across the Pacific? This next book is written by an engineer who worked with Pan Am to make this aviation/travel miracle happen.
I found this book in a used book store somewhere, and it’s a find. This 1936 account of trans Pacific passenger flight is out of print and worth searching out. It’s a first person story by the man who helped Pan Am lay out their flying boat ocean routes. Sites include Guam, Wake and Midway Island. There is a reproduction of the book from digital images from the University of Michigan Library. This link takes you to the reproduced book.
For the flying boat history fans in the audience, this is a marvelous book. It’s one of the books I always had at hand for a quick browse when I needed a bit of vicarious aviation adventure.
From Amazon:
“The flying-boat represents an important chapter in this history. Used in modest numbers at the outset, this beautiful craft was later to be developed and exploited significantly by Pan American – indeed, no airline company made more of the water-based aircraft, nor used it to greater effect, than this world-renowned company in the first twenty years of its operational life. This book is testament to that use. Through the carriage of mail and then passengers, Pan American built an ocean-crossing network using a fleet of flying-boats which became famous as the Pan American Clipper Ships. In the process of this development, aviation records were constantly set, ranging from the first airline to cross the Pacific, the first to encompass South America in its routes, and the first to offer fare-paying, scheduled services across the North Atlantic. The new service offered travelers, government officials, and even heads of state, unparalleled levels of comfort and luxury, and such innovations had to be accompanied by a good share of business acumen, promotional skill and high regard for passenger comfort. Revealing portraits are presented here of the key pioneering figures who pushed the technology ahead, and ultimately laid the foundations for the global air transport network and passenger services that we know today. The Pan Am Clipper Ships belong to one of aviation history’s most inspiring and magical periods. Illustrated with over 100 archive photographs, this impressive book is a tribute to a technical wonder that continues to fascinate and captivate today and which, in its time, was the toast of international air travel.”
“Powder Puff” was a misnomer. The women who flew this race were great pilots with a lot of guts. The lack of navigation facilities compared to today is almost unbelievable. Ask yourself if you’d be willing to take on a race under these same conditions. Many of us, I believe, would pass. This is a truly inspiring story of early aviation and the women that shaped it.
(A Full 5 Stars!) From Amazon:
“The unforgettable true story of the 1929 air race that legitimized female pilots.
In 1929, nineteen women set out from Santa Monica, California, in flimsy, propeller driven planes, with a mission-to be the first to cover the 2,759 mile course to Cleveland, Ohio. Dubbed “The Powder Puff Derby” by humorist Will Rogers, who covered the race, the competition was aggressive and dangerous.
A thrilling narrative, The Powder Puff Derby of 1929 tells the story of the first major female airplane race, whose contestants included Amelia Earhart, the most famous female pilot of her time. Many of the women flew in open cockpits, with no air controllers to help them and often only primitive airports to land on. Yet by facing the hazards with skill and determination, the racers thrilled the nation and pioneered a new future and respect for female aviators.
The Powder Puff Derby of 1929 tells the stories of these first female pilots, gutsy and colorful adventurers who flew in air circuses, set altitude and speed records and fought for the right to become part of the male-dominated world of aviation. The book also includes various artifacts of the groundbreaking race, including priceless, never-before-published black and white photos, as well as Air Force maps of the terrain over which the women flew.
An inspiring story of confidence and persistence, The Powder Puff Derby of 1929 captures a defining moment in the history of aviation and women’s rights.”
No look at aviation, the space program and NASA would be complete without including this remarkable man who was a force in pushing the limits of aviation into space. Chuck Yeager was the first man to break the sound barrier and is a key character in Tom Wolf’s story about NASA, The Right Stuff. In the movie, Yeager makes a cameo appearance in one of the Happy Bottom Flying Club scenes. This book is sheer inspiration.
From Amazon:
“General Chuck Yeager, the greatest test pilot of them all — the first man to fly faster than the speed of sound . . .the World War II flying ace who shot down a Messerschmitt jet with a prop-driven P-51 Mustang . . .the hero who defined a certain quality that all hotshot fly-boys of the postwar era aimed to achieve: the right stuff.
Now Chuck Yeager tells his whole incredible life story with the same “wide-open, full throttle” approach that has marked his astonishing career. What it was really like enaging in do-or-die dogfights over Nazi Europe. How after being shot over occupied France, Yeager somehow managed to escape. The amazing behind-the-scenes story of smashing the sound barrier despite cracked ribs from a riding accident days before.
The entire story is here, in Yeager’s own words, and in wondeful insights from his wife and those friends and colleagues who have known him best. It is the personal and public story of a man who settled for nothing less than excellence, a one-of-a-kind portrait of a true American hero.”
The Happy Bottom Riding Club was the name of the bar where the NASA Mercury 7 wannabes hung out in the California desert, run by aviatrix Pancho Barnes. This is a terrific story of the end of one aviation era and the beginning of another, told through the life of a most interesting and remarkable woman.
From Amazon:
“Pancho Barnes was a force of nature, a woman who lived a big, messy, colorful, unconventional life. She ran through three fortunes, four husbands, and countless lovers. She outflew Amelia Earhart, outsmarted Howard Hughes, outdrank the Mexican Army, and out- maneuvered the U.S. government. In The Happy Bottom Riding Club, award-winning author Lauren Kessler tells the story of a high-spirited, headstrong woman who was proud of her successes, unabashed by her failures, and the architect of her own legend. Florence “Pancho” Barnes was a California heiress who inherited a love of flying from her grandfather, a pioneer balloonist in the Civil War. Faced with a future of domesticity and upper-crust pretensions, she ran away from her responsibilities as wife and mother to create her own life. She cruised South America. She trekked through Mexico astride a burro. She hitchhiked halfway across the United States. Then, in the late 1920s, she took to the skies, one of a handful of female pilots. She was a barnstormer, a racer, a cross-country flier, and a Hollywood stunt pilot. She was, for a time, “the fastest woman on earth,” flying the fastest civilian airplane in the world. She was an intimate of movie stars, a script doctor for the great director Erich von Stroheim, and, later in life, a drinking buddy of the supersonic jet jockey Chuck Yeager. She ran a wild and wildly successful desert watering hole known as the The Happy Bottom Riding Club, the raucous bar and grill depicted in The Right Stuff. In The Happy Bottom Riding Club, Lauren Kessler presents a portrait, both authoritative and affectionate, of a woman who didn’t play by women’s rules, a woman of large appetites–emotional, financial, and sexual–who called herself “the greatest conversation piece that ever existed.”
This Tom Wolfe classic captures the macho and bravado of the early NASA days as we transitioned from jet aircraft into the space program. Readers get an insight into the impact of Sputnik; the race to space; the intense competition to make the final NASA cut. This is one of Tom Wolf’s best books and a close up look at what it actually feels like to have The Right Stuff. It’s epic, it’s historic, it’s a must read.
From Amazon:
From “America’s nerviest journalist” (Newsweek)–a breath-taking epic, a magnificent adventure story, and an investigation into the true heroism and courage of the first Americans to conquer space. “Tom Wolfe at his very best” (The New York Times Book Review)
“Millions of words have poured forth about man’s trip to the moon, but until now few people have had a sense of the most engrossing side of the adventure; namely, what went on in the minds of the astronauts themselves – in space, on the moon, and even during certain odysseys on earth. It is this, the inner life of the astronauts, that Tom Wolfe describes with his almost uncanny empathetic powers, that made The Right Stuff a classic.”
I am embarrassed to say that I didn’t know about The Mercury 13 and their role in NASA until I visited the Seattle Museum of Flight. Here in this book is their amazing story:
From Amazon:
“In 1961, just as NASA launched its first man into space, a group of women underwent secret testing in the hopes of becoming America’s first female astronauts. They passed the same battery of tests at the legendary Lovelace Foundation as did the Mercury 7 astronauts, but they were summarily dismissed by the boys’ club at NASA and on Capitol Hill. The USSR sent its first woman into space in 1963; the United States did not follow suit for another twenty years.
For the first time, Martha Ackmann tells the story of the dramatic events surrounding these thirteen remarkable women, all crackerjack pilots and patriots who sometimes sacrificed jobs and marriages for a chance to participate in America’s space race against the Soviet Union. In addition to talking extensively to these women, Ackmann interviewed Chuck Yeager, John Glenn, Scott Carpenter, and others at NASA and in the White House with firsthand knowledge of the program, and includes here never-before-seen photographs of the Mercury 13 passing their Lovelace tests.
Despite the crushing disappointment of watching their dreams being derailed, the Mercury 13 went on to extraordinary achievement in their lives: Jerrie Cobb, who began flying when she was so small she had to sit on pillows to see out of the cockpit, dedicated her life to flying solo missions to the Amazon rain forest; Wally Funk, who talked her way into the Lovelace trials, went on to become one of the first female FAA investigators; Janey Hart, mother of eight and, at age forty, the oldest astronaut candidate, had the political savvy to steer the women through congressional hearings and later helped found the National Organization for Women.
A provocative tribute to these extraordinary women, The Mercury 13 is an unforgettable story of determination, resilience, and inextinguishable hope.”
This book is a “picture book” accompanied by some great stories. And it’s a book that means a lot to me. I bought it early on in my flying career and was immediately captivated by the scenes of western flight. Helmut Reichmann was a world class pilot and world gliding champion who co-founded the tournament with Barron Hilton. Reichmann died soaring the French Alps in 1992. Barron Hilton is a long time aviation and space supporter. Both men’s legacies live on in the amazing sport and this wonderful book. An excerpt:
“For thousands of years, man could only dream of soaring like an eagle, gliding effortlessly with the wind…Through a careful blend of high-tech aircraft design and instinctive pilot skill, man is able to capture the sensation known only to the birds of the hair. Managing invisible updrafts of air to gain altitude. Gliding at high speed in a gradual descent for hundreds of miles. All in a plane without an engine. A craft fueled only by the mind of the pilot.”
A craft fueled only by the mind of the pilot. Now that’s aviation!
This book was wildly popular when it was released and it stands the test of time. As does the movie (below). It seems especially fitting that the Discovery One is on a mission to Saturn, as I prepare to go to celebrate the end of an actual Saturn mission, Cassini.
From Amazon:
The classic science fiction novel that inspired Stanley Kubrick’s immortal 1968 film and changed the way we look at the stars and ourselves.
“From the savannas of Africa at the dawn of mankind to the rings of Saturn as man ventures to the outer rim of our solar system, 2001: A Space Odyssey is a journey unlike any other.
This allegory about humanity’s exploration of their universe, and the universe’s reaction to humanity lives on as a hallmark achievement in storytelling. The story follows the Discovery One and its crew as they embark on a mission to Saturn. Controlling the Discovery One is the HAL 9000, an artificially intelligent supercomputer that manages the functions of all systems of the spacecraft. A masterful feat of human engineering, HAL is capable of the highest level of cognitive functioning that rivals—and perhaps threatens—the human mind.
Grappling with space exploration, the perils of technology, and the limits of human power, 2001: A Space Odyssey continues to be an enduring classic of cinematic scope.”
Aviation and Space: My Favorite Films
The history of space exploration is inherently inspiring. It involves vision, daring and risk. It involves grand topics on grand scales. What’s not to love? Here are a few of my favorites, starting with Lindbergh crossing the Atlantic.
The Spirit of St. Louis
Charles Lindbergh was an important part of aviation history. The first man to cross the Atlantic, his feat of daring changed the perception the possibilities of aviation in its time. Years later, his wife, Anne Morrow Lindbergh, would accompany him on numerous flights and become an accomplished writer that among other publications, chronicled their trip to the North Pole, in North to the Orient.
Jimmy Stewart stars in this classic film about the history of aviation, bravery, risk and reward.
This movie stars Spencer Tracy and Irene Dunne. A remake, Always, starring Richard Dreyfus and Holly Hunter, features Audrey Hepburn in a cameo appearance in the film. The movie is worth watching for this alone.
This is more of a love story than an aviation film, but I include this movie because anyone who flies has had some close calls. And sometimes it seems as if there is someone there watching out for us. Pilots are connected by this magical experience of flying, and who knows how deep the connection may be.
This World War II classic follows the every day workings of the Eighth Army Air Force through the experience of the Memphis Belle crew. The men who flew these missions experienced the highest casualty rate of all the armed forces during this war.
This is an inspiring classic that will remind you of the incredible acts of selflessness from this incredible generation. In addition to the recent movie, a 1943 war film was also made about the crew of this B-17.
This is a classic that’s worth rewatching, particularly in view of the modern day use of artificial intelligence, bots and other technology.
From Roger Ebert:
“The genius is not in how much Stanley Kubrick does in “2001: A Space Odyssey,” but in how little. This is the work of an artist so sublimely confident that he doesn’t include a single shot simply to keep our attention. He reduces each scene to its essence, and leaves it on screen long enough for us to contemplate it, to inhabit it in our imaginations. Alone among science-fiction movies, “2001″ is not concerned with thrilling us, but with inspiring our awe.“
“Interstellar is Nolan’s best and most brazenly ambitious film to date. Doubling down on the Kubrick comparisons, he’s made his own sweeping space odyssey in which a team of astronauts, led by Matthew McConaughey’s stoically smouldering Coop, venture into the great beyond in search of a new home for humanity. Starlight whirls, planets rock on their axes, and spacecraft cartwheel through nothingness, all soundtracked by a reverential Hans Zimmer score that’s equal parts Johann Strauss and Philip Glass…
But the aim of Nolan’s film is.. to set quantum physics and love on an equal footing, as two densely complex, destiny-steering forces his characters learn to surrender to without ever fully fathoming.”
One of the best speeches of the movie is from Michael Caine as he recites Dylan Thomas’ Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night.
Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
“Apollo 13” inspires many reflections, and one of them is that America’s space program was achieved with equipment that would look like tin cans today. Like Lindbergh, who crossed the Atlantic in the first plane he could string together that might make it, we went to the moon the moment we could, with the tools that were at hand…
Apollo 13″ never really states its theme, except perhaps in one sentence of narration at the end, but the whole film is suffused with it: The space program was a really extraordinary thing, something to be proud of, and those who went into space were not just “heroes,” which is a cliché, but brave and resourceful…
Ron Howard’s film of this mission is directed with a single-mindedness and attention to detail that makes it riveting. He doesn’t make the mistake of adding cornball little subplots to popularize the material; he knows he has a great story, and he tells it in a docudrama that feels like it was filmed on location in outer space.”
This movie version of Tom Wolfe’s book is just as good as the book. It so captures the alpha aviation culture of test pilots; it’s a historic resource in terms of commemorating the start of the NASA space program; and everyone is so well cast. It’s one of my favorite movies of all time. If you haven’t seen this for a while, it’s worth watching again. And if you’ve never seen it, what are you waiting for?
It starts with Chuck Yeager’s breaking the sound limit and chronicles the early days of the Mercury space program at NASA. It integrates the human, political and social issues of the space race. And the real Chuck Yeager makes a cameo appearance in the Happy Bottom Riding Club, which is also depicted in the movie along wth Pancho Barnes played by Kim Stanley . The story is epic; the music is epic; the acting and casting are terrific. This is a film that motivates, inspires and remains incredibly human, all at the same time. This belongs on every aviator’s favorite list.
Be prepared to laugh, to cry and to just love this movie about a group of never-got-to-space astronauts who get a second shot at space flight. Great script, great cast, great movie! This is a clip from the close of the movie:
Love this movie or hate it, it’s a bit of a classic. It was one of the early movies to use a music video format and it was wildly successful. The flying shots are great fun, and the music captures that relentless, dangerous essence of military flight. I have to admit whenever I see the opening sequence, I’m mesmerized. My favorite vignette is all the pilots watching (and rating) the landings as they come in. No matter what you fly, or where you fly it, some things never change.
I’ve always been inspired by space exploration and learning to fly has been one of the most remarkable experiences of my life. To all who went before me, thank you for your daring, bravery and vision. To all those that pushed the limits and continue to do so, my hat is off to you!
Man must rise above the Earth — to the top of the atmosphere and beyond — for only thus will he fully understand the world in which he lives. — Socrates
See you at NASA. I’ll be on both Twitter and Instagram.
What is #CancerRoadTrip and how did it come to be? Read this post to get the backstory!
I recently stayed at a place that had a local paper delivered every morning. I’d open the paper and see the news from the night before. It had a certain charm, and it made me stop.
The idea that the news was lagged a day was very, well, quaint. The notion that I was just receiving the information and taking it in in a delayed fashion seemed so at odds with our modern world. If this were 15 or 20 years ago, I would leisurely read the paper, browse the various topics, share the news with people throughout the day, hear their thoughts and form my own. The leisureliness of this process of distilling information and thought is so very appealing. Imagine! Time to actually think and let things unfold a bit!
Instead, today, we move in a world that wants instant reaction and opinion, often at the expense of some thoughtful inquiry. Rather than browsing disparate topics, letting something offbeat catch our attention, our information is narrowed by search topic and trends. We are addicted to devices that bring little satisfaction, but much distraction. Distracted, we can’t be in present moment. We become ghosts in our own time.
I was in the supermarket the other day and a young mother and her daughter were practically running through the to-go food section. They spoke in staccato bursts, rather loudly, as if in their own little bubble. They grabbed pre-formed packages of food and scurried to the register. I couldn’t help but think that this was life as usual in their world, not an aberration.
Watching the clouds
What ever happened to taking the time to watch the clouds go by? Seriously. No matter what your age, your mind and imagination need some free reign, to be idle, to wonder and to dream. Your iPhone can’t do this for you and chances are your social media networks actually in inhibit this type of psychological and even spiritual evolution.
Perhaps I was sensitive to this because I feel as if I’ve been tethered to my machines for the last day or two, dealing with the vagaries of Twitter rules and it’s bizarre enforcement. Apparently a sixty year old woman with cancer (me) is some sort of threat to this behemoth because they’ve ghosted me. That means, they aren’t allowing my tweets to show up in a hashtag search. I think. And who knows what else. For who knows what reason. I don’t really understand any of it. They don’t communicate with you; they just make you disappear. They “ghost” you.
I only discovered this because I wanted to look into running an ad for the free #CancerRoadTrip giveaways that we’re working on. Some of my younger, techie friends explained what was happening to me. And that I needed to grovel to Twitter and hope and pray to the Twitter gods-that-be that I would be un-ghosted.
I just don’t understand.
And of course, there is no customer service. Such a passe idea! You can appeal to a bot.
So I’ve appealed to the bots and I’ve not had a response. Nothing. Nada.
I shall appeal again after the Labor Day holiday. Surely bots work weekends! Or do they?
Without any direct contact with their own customers, even through their bots, how is it that Twitter makes these decisions that impact people’s businesses and lives? The on line thought police seem to have the mistaken notion that my get-healthy-meditate-travel-have-some-fun philosophy is threatening to the stability of their matrix.
The Matrix–great movie!– looks at mind control by creating false realities. Here is an excerpt. It’s a bit dark, but it does get the point across. (If you haven’t seen this classic film, it really is a must watch.)
“No one has ever done anything like this.”
I sense trepidation from my young techie friends that I would dare challenge the system. Be nice, the on-line guides say. Grovel, I am repeatedly told.
Really?
This is a blog about life and cancer!
This isn’t my first run in with Twitter and it probably won’t be my last. So I decided to peacefully vent a bit, here in my blog. (No digital guns–per the movie–just words. Oh my!)
Whatever happened to the ability to have some civil discourse? Whatever happened to tolerance? Who are these on line thought police that are declaring thugs in black sheets to be acceptable and 60 year old health oriented travel bloggers are not? Not to mention Google arbitrarily closing down all the accounts of a statistics professor running a charitable site promoting math education. Or Twitter suspending the account of a man that shall we say, (the bots may be listening), “ended” the life of a mosquito. Yes, a mosquito.
Really?
Really?
In the film clip below, consider substituting the logos of name-your-tech-firm for the phrase “the flag”, and try substituting Twitter for “Bob Rumsen” in this diatribe from The American President:
A note to the bots: Please note that this is a movie. (Movie: Digital rendering of scenes involving actors and storylines, used to inform, amuse and distract humans.) I am not in any way recommending anyone burn flags, logos or incite any violence!
And let us not forget Patrick McGoohan in the The Prisoner, a great, if short lived, 1960’s TV series. It’s about a spy who isn’t allowed to resign, but is instead is “ghosted”: kidnapped, and exiled into a Potemkin Village, with bizarre and arbitrary rules, that are undisclosed and enforced at will, with no reason, explanation or warning.
Here’s a link to the first episode for a bit of nostalgia. The musical theme to the series’ predecessor, Danger Man, should ring a few bells for anyone of a certain age.
Looking back is fun, but looking ahead right now is a bit disturbing. The recycling of these themes is, according to William Strauss and Neil Howe, part of the cycle of history. They tackle this topic of generational recycling of ideas and trends in their book The Fourth Turning. It’s an interesting read for the history buffs in the audience.
What each of these films (and this book) have in common is a desire for freedom and a historic (and futuristic) perspective on human political evolution and repression. It is not about political party. It’s not about personalities. But it is about freedom. Having our peaceful, non-threatening speech arbitrarily edited by Google or Twitter is just wrong. Who are these nameless people, or are they (most likely) just ghost bots?
And how’s it working out for them?
FANG Stocks
Pretty well so far, at least for the high flying “FANGs”. The financial bots seem to be tech friendly. Collusion? (Bot joke!) Although the trend line might be changing. One never knows what lies ahead.
Let’s look at Twitter who apparently is not part of this elite tech group:
Twitter stock price
Hmmm. Not so good.
I realize that I’m out of date and obviously out of cinque with this bot driven world, but some ideas have stood the test of modern time and some have not. Those that have been utter, complete, total and costly failures include attempts to limit free speech and/or to dictate societal norms. (see Nazi Germany, the former Soviet Union, The Prague Spring, Easter Europe under the “Iron Curtain” etc., etc, etc.).
Man never changes. His hubris guarantees this.
End of rant.
Please don’t see this as political. It’s not. I’m part of the “none of the above” crowd these days, but it seems like I just can’t express it. At least not on Twitter where I tweet about the travel and health and adventure of a life well lived and all sorts of apparently threatening topics.
Nestled in Puget Sound, north of Seattle, is Whidbey Island. I have heard wonderful things about this island and something draws me to it. I’ve learned to pay attention to these intuitions, even if I don’t always understand them.
I reserve an Airbnb, and after my last experience, I keep my expectations low. It’s late in the season, and I suspect that whatever is left isn’t up to snuff. But whatever happens, it’s ok. My goal is simply to experience this island. And I’m only here three nights. I just need a place to sleep and shower, and here on an island in the Puget Sound, the temperature should be comfortable.
Map of Samish, north of Ox, en route to Whidbey Island
En route to Whidbey, I leave Route 5 South for the rolling country of coastal Skagit Valley and for Ox, Washington. Why this small town? Because just north of it, on the water, is Samish and in Samish is the Taylor Shellfish oyster farm where you can shuck your own oysters seaside. Actually, its estuary side, because oysters need tidelands and time to grow.
The history of Taylor’s dates back to 1895, when Washington’s Legislature passed the Bush Act and the Callow Act, both of which allowed for sale of tidelands into private ownership. This private ownership of the tidelands, which is unique to Washington, is the foundation of the state’s very successful shellfish industry and provided the launch point for Taylor’s to grow to be the largest oyster raising company in North America, with hatcheries and nurseries in Hawaii, California, Vancouver and a pearl farm in Asia.
Moving the young oysters from bin to bin to help their growth
Different oysters grow in different conditions, at different depths, but the basic process is the same. Three to four week old larvae settle onto suitable materials (“cultch”) such as old oyster shells. Here they will grow to maturity. They may be suspended in the water, placed on the floor of the water, or in floating nets where they are shaken (not stirred). It all depends on the oyster. The entire process takes up to three years before they are ready to go to market.
Workers at Taylor’s Oyster Farm in Samish, WA
On this perfect summer day at waters edge as I watch the workers nurture and harvest oysters, I am reminded that most of the year is damp, drizzly and grey. Paraphrasing Frank Perdue, “It takes a tough man to raise a tender oyster”. I order a dozen assorted oysters.
Various oysters at Taylors Shellfish Farm
I am hopelessly un-mechanical and it rapidly became evident that I’ll maim either myself or perhaps those around me my own shucking oysters. So Taylors also offers a shucking service. (Thank you!)
A plate of briny perfection, “seaside”.
I settle into a seat at an outdoor wooden picnic bar overlooking the tidelands. The man who brings my oysters starts to chat and tells me the history of this operation and the process of raising oysters. I’m stunned at the work involved, and the two to three years needed to raise a single oyster. All of a sudden $2-$3 an oyster isn’t sounding so expensive.
The man continues his story. He is retired and this is his fun job. If it ceases to be fun, he will cease to work. But he’s been doing this for nearly a decade and there doesn’t seem to be any retirement in sight.
I think this would be an amazing retirement job. People from all over; a bit of conversation; undoubtedly good deals on the freshest of fish. And of course oysters. Under these conditions, I’d learn to shuck my own!
The roadway to Taylor’s Oyster Farm. It’s a working farm, on the water, next to the railroad.
Taylor’s is a very laid back locale. The road to the farm is a one lane offshoot of the main road. It descends to sea level, parallels some train tracks, then ends at the oyster operation. No need to dress. Just come hungry!
In addition to oysters, mussels, crab and other seafood is also sold, depending on availability. Get here early for the best selection.
***
I hearby name “Pacific Northwest Blue” an official color!
The countryside is Pacific Northwest beautiful. Mountains in the background (on a clear day); lots of land and crops; and goats.
Goats? Yes, at Gothberg Farms. Forty acres of farmland in the Skagit Valley produces farmstead goat cheeses. From their website:
“You can taste the essence of our Valley: the sea breezes, the grasses, & the surrounding farm activities.”
And it’s true. The cheese has a freshness and lightness that is remarkable. The yogurt is dense; it needs to be scooped out as if it were ice cream, frozen hard. But in spite of the denseness, it is so fresh and clean on the palate. I’m a goat milk yogurt fan, and this blew me away. Similarly the chèvre is dense and while it has that traditional tang I so adore, it’s subtle. The incredible quality of the milk shines through in each and every bite, of each and every product. As owner Rhonda Gothberg points out, the goats only get the best. She’s had a grain blend customized for their diet; they have beautiful pastures to roam; and the utmost care is taken in crafting their milk into cheese.
In addition to the soft cheese and yogurt, the farm produces an array of hard cheeses as well–cheddar, dill havarti and more. Some are aged for several years-you may have to request these. The rest are simply placed in an outdoor refrigerator, under a metal canopy adjacent to the barn, and it’s self serve. Just jot down what you’re taking, tally it up, and self pay.
***
Whidbey Island
The afternoon is waning and Whidbey Island is not far away. The drive becomes somewhat less scenic as I get on 20 west toward Fidalgo, as gas stations and small shops appear roadside. Refineries just up the road seem the antithesis of the rural splendor I’d expected.
The bridge at Deception Pass, at the northern end of Whidey Island
Then I turn south on 20 towards Deception Pass and that first impression is gone. Winding roads sweep through deep forest and open to the bridge at Deception Pass. I stop. A young man is flying a DJMavicPro drone, just like the one I plan to buy. We chat.
“It’s easy to fly”, he reassures me. “Watch.”
He hits the home command. The drone is out of sight, but the compact flying machine settles itself perfectly onto a small landing zone where it had taken off from.
“Can I pick it up?” I ask. I’m curious about both the weight and bulk.
It’s so light. The arms and propellers fold and it’s small enough I could put it in my purse. This is definitely on the wish list. But for me to include drone footage in the blog, I need a commercial drone rating. And it occurs to me that some insurance might not be a bad idea either.
It’s getting to be late afternoon, and I’d like to check in and get the lay of the land a bit before darkness falls. The Airbnb is not far from here. I head off to see what I’ve gotten myself into this time.
At the intersection, Google instructs me to turn. I note an RV park. At least it’s not a trailer park, I think. The countryside is beautiful, so as long as the place is reasonably tolerable, I’ll be fine.
Maybe more than fine.
Because this time, it’s absolute
Nirvana
The door to the guest quarters. You can see the jasmine through the window pane.
A small blackboard welcomes me by name and flowers decorate the entrance. The guest house is separate from the main house and accessed through a windowed door marked “cottage”.
The door opens to the smell of jasmine climbing a trellis and a small private deck that overlooks the water. Seats with throw pillows and the sound of gentle chimes moving with the breeze welcome me. The room has a small frig (for my goat cheese yogurt!) and food area, a nice bed, and a small table where I can write. And, of course, wifi.
The sunset from my private deck.
The sunset the first evening on Whidbey Island was repeated again and again, with slightly different hues and cloud formations. Mornings could be clear or a bit foggy. Either way, the location was spectacular. As were my hosts.
Sunset n Whidbey Island
Jeff and Margi are a bit older than I am. For years, they raised apples on their land east of the Cascades. And they had an apple distribution business. Until one day, Meryl Streep declared on a network TV show that all the produce coming from that valley was tainted (it wasn’t) and consuming the apples would poison you (it wouldn’t). But their business tanked and they found themselves facing paying back nearly a million dollars in loans, with no business to back it. They managed to pay back the loans and with a strong entrepreneurial spirit, went on to a variety of different businesses.
My hosts were nothing short of wonderful. The first evening they took me out to show me the best trailheads; the walk to the former ferry landing; and other landmarks that would make my stay so much easier by knowing the lay of the land. In addition they had great island restaurant and touring recommendations.
Whidbey Island, Anacortes to Coupeville
The following day dawns cloudy. It’s a good day to do an island tour I decide. So I set off first for Anacortes, then south towards Langley on a Whidbey Island tour.
Whidbey is about 60 miles long, which provides for diversity without being too large to navigate. Anacortes is actually on Fandalgo Island just to the north, and is a great base for reaching the San Juans, as well as for whale watching. The town has a
The inside of GereDeli in Anacortes.
well restored downtown with plenty of shops and restaurants. One, recommended by my hosts, was GereDeli. I had breakfast (a wonderful artichoke quiche) and got a vegetarian sandwich for lunch to go. Both were terrific.
Whidbey Island has numerous towns and neighborhoods. Oak Harbor is the main town for the Naval Air Station Base which is located on the island. Depending on your location, the flight pattern may be part of your Whidbey experience. The occasional flyovers in the pattern didn’t bother me. On the contrary, I wanted to watch the touch and goes!
I had pictured Oak Harbor rather differently; more quaint perhaps. It’s more of a charming but practical center for the military stationed on the island. Which means good supermarkets and other support industries, as well as restaurants and a weekly farmers market.
South of Oak Harbor is Coupeville, located in Ebey’s Landing National Historical Reserve which harbors this historic area. Interestingly the Reserve is an unusual combination of federal, state and private property, administered by a local trust that was started 1978.
In addition to the downtown historic district, Fort Casey and Fort Ebey Parks are also included in this trust. Ebey was established as a coastal defense port during World War II. Fort Casey dates back to the late 1800’s when it was established as a part of a trio of defense fortifications, to guard the Puget Sound entry.
Main Street in Coupeville, Whidbey Island
Coupeville was welcoming from the start. The man in the tourist information shop was happy to share some “must do’s” on the island. And just across the way is the museum. The man at the desk shared his life knowledge as well. And what a remarkable set of stories he had to tell.
What struck me so strongly was the incredible cultural loss we are facing as the World War II vets leave us. This is a generation that sacrificed and prospered as their generation rolled through the population. These are men of their times; who experienced personal risk and reward; who have given the rest of us such a precious cultural legacy. The knowledge that lives in this generation is priceless. How do we preserve it, for ourselves, and for our children and grand children?
“Those who don’t know history are doomed to repeat it.”- Edmund Burke
“You should write a book, or do a blog,” I said to the museum man. “Your life is an amazing story; your children and grandchildren will really want to have those stories.”
“I’d have to go back to Germany, go to the top of a mountain, to get into the right mindset to do that,” he replied thoughtfully, thinking back over decades of personal history that intertwined with that of the world. Thinking of his wartime experiences that started him off on a most remarkable life path. After the war he pursued a career in technology that took his to many interesting places with many prominent people. It’s the story of a lifetime, and of a life well lived, and I hope he writes it down for his grandchildren. It’s a precious, priceless legacy.
Coupeville is rich in history and resources. And Penn Cove mussels which grows and distributes mussels, clams and 27 varieties of Pacific Oysters!
Boats stored outside the museum in Coupeville, Whidbey Island
Coupeville, Whidbey Island
Boat on the dock at Coupevvlle, Whidbey Island
***
Langley, Whidbey Island
Like all of the Puget Sound, Whidbey’s earliest settlers were native people who depended upon the rich regional resources for their survival and livelihood. Vancouver and subsequent explorers opened the area to the west. Today, Whidbey is being populated by retirees, Seattle commuters and urban refugees, particularly on the south end of the island where the mainland is an easy ferry ride away.
Main Street Langley, Whidbey Island
Langley is a town on the south end of the island overlooking the Sarasota Passage that sports urban quality art galleries in a beautiful island setting. Again, it is the kindness of the people that strikes me. A woman in an art gallery takes the time to chat and talk about life on the island. She tells me about a woman who moved here from Napa and points me to a small development of cottages at the edge of town to get a sense of island life. Another talks to me about her health and her decision to become a functional medicine coach. Everyone has a story.
Walkway to an art gallery in Langley, south end of Whidbey Island
Plus wonderful art galleries, restaurants, and more line the street. If I had more time here, I’d like to stay a while and get a sense of this lovely town on the southern tip of Whidbey Island.
Here are a few pictures. Follow me on my Instagram account (@CanncerRoadTrip) where many more will be posted.
Sculpture outside an art gallery on the main street, Langley
Closeup of sculpture outside gallery in Langley on Whidbey Island
Bronze sculpture surveying the scenery, seaside, in Langley, Whidbey Island
***
Whidbey Island, Deception Pass
Deception Pass was named “Deception” because the land it appeared to be a peninsula, not an island, and finding the straight was at first difficult. In addition, varying depths made for eddies and funky currents, neither of which assisted in the early navigation and mapping of the island.
Today two bridges span the Juan de la Fuca Straight, both of which are on the National Historic Register. My hosts have recommended a boat trip through the straight and into the sea for views of the passage as well as wildlife. This is my mission this morning: to get on the water.
The tour, by Deception Pass Tours, can be booked online, or at a small roadside on the east side of Route 20. The boat leaves from the dock at Deception Pass State Park, just down from the Airbnb where I’m stayng. Captain Brett is a U.S. Coast Guard certified captain and he guides the tour in an Island Whaler which offers 360 degree views.
Wildlife, ranging from porpoises and seals to the occasional whale are pretty typical. A massive eagles nest hangs in the fork of a tree en route through the passage. Here are a few of the views I enjoyed during the tour:
Seal enjoying a salmon dinner at Deception Pass, Whidbey Island
The Deception Pass bridge to Whidbey Island viewed from the water
The boat launching area, Deception Pass Park
Gorilla Rock, a rock outcropping near Deception Pass, as seen from the sea (Can you see the “gorilla”?)
And a few of my favorite photos of Whidbey Island, where I will most certainly be returning:
My favorite Whidbey Island evening walk down to the old ferry landing
Flowers along the roadside to the old ferry landing
A view of the distant mountains from Whidbey Island
Sunset on Whidbey Island, Deception Pass
I have to say that I’m totally taken by Whidbey Island. I’m tempted to come back during the winter when it’s grey and raining to see how I feel about it under those conditions. Because this is a place that resonates with my soul. From the fresh open air to the stunning sunsets, Whidbey is special. But most of all it’s been the friendliness of the people that have really turned my head. But then again, in a setting like this, perhaps the world can slow a bit, enough for people to take the time to chat and visit and care. My thanks to everyone on the island whose kindness and care made this a very special visit.
Follow @CancerRoadTrip on Instagram for many more pictures!
In Vancouver, I awake at dawn, as the sky starts to light, ready to make my getaway to the mountains, to Whistler. It is early Sunday morning and Chinatown is quiet. It’s rained, leaving a fine mist on the sidewalk. Tents from the street fair the day before still line the streets, and two police chat at the bottom of the blockaded road, keeping an eye on things. Other than an occasional pedestrian walking , it is still.
I dread the bill at the parking garage. There is a Parking Meister who stalks the over night parkers, even though overnight parking is allowed. I suspect he is an older Chinese man, fit from walking the parking garage, who methodically goes from floor to floor, exerting his authority. He leaves pink slips with notes on the windshield, even though the parking ticket is visible on the dash. I don’t understand why he does this. Nor does the ticket taker at the gateway out.
No matter. The smoke from the British Columbia fires that has blanketed the Pacific Northwest is breaking and I’m desperately in need of some sleep which I hope will be inspired by the mountain air in Whistler, as the winds shift. I walk down to the garage, take the elevator up two floors to may car. I throw the bags in the back seat, depress the clutch, turn the key and the car starts. Even at her age, the sound of her engine inspires.
I wind my way down to the ticket taker. But it’s early and she isn’t at the station yet. So I try the autopay machine, which failed to take my ticket upstairs. But it accepts it here at the exit to the garage, and now I discover why the Parking Meister has been stalking me. Without the pink slip which he leaves on the windshield and which I obediently give to the ticket taker, the machine only charges me for a few hours!
The heat and the smoke are dissipating.
I’ve unwittingly outwitted the Parking Meister!
Life is looking good.
Onto Whistler.
The Sea to Sky Highway is aptly named. Highway 99, it’s numerical moniker, does not do it justice.
Highway 99, Sea to Sky, from Vancouver to Whistler
It’s a highway sandwiched between the sea and the mountains. It broadens into a highway, then narrows in places to a winding two way road. Vast metal netting hangs over the cliffs to trap the falling boulders as nature works her way with the earth. It’s a road worthy of attention, both for the scenery and for the winding, fun drive. My trusty BMW, a 2002 all wheel drive station wagon, has a five speed stick, and she loves these roads. As do I.
It’s a moody day with low hanging clouds and spritzes of drizzle. Clouds linger over mountainous islands that seem to grow from a turquoise sea. The land is clearly living, almost as if it’s breathing as it arises from the sea. The views from the drive are beyond stunning.
Whistler, site of the 2010 Winter Olympics, is an easy hour drive north of Vancouver. Four wheel drive in the winter, but on a summer’s day, you simply get to enjoy. The road morphs from highway to two lanes and back again as it navigates a narrow path between the sea and the mountains. On this rainy day, clouds settle atop the mountains, so sightseeing along the way may be limited.
Which suits me just fine. I have my eye on some hiking and an afternoon at the spa when I get to Whistler. I want to enjoy the peace of the mountains after a hot, smoky week in the city.
***
I arrive early, too early to check in, so I park in one of the common lots. Ten dollars for the day. A bargain compared to Vancouver where parking one day cost $60.
Except that the machine charges me $50.
Is this some sort of parking karma for eluding the Parking Meister in Vancouver? I try to shrug it off, but I’m tired from a week of no sleep. I come to the wise conclusion that it’s Sunday, so nothing can be done anyway.
Given the weather, a visit to the Audain Museum seems like a good idea. The 56,000 square foot modern building is sleek and it settles into the land as if part of it. Inside glass corridors look out onto forest. It’s peaceful and stunning. Michael Audain, philanthropist and collector, built this $30 million dollar building to house his collection of almost 200 works of British Columbia art from the 18th to the 21st century. The building was designed by the award winning Patkau Architects of Vancouver. Lead architect John Patkau explains some of the challenges involved:
“To respond to primeval forces like floods and snow in the context of a west coast forest’, explains John Patkau, ‘we had to make a strong and simple design that fit into the site and drifted into apertures in existing trees.”
I enter and share my petty parking woes with the young woman at the desk. She tells me to contact the municipality. “I’m sure they’ll take care of it,” she reassures me. Like so much of my Canada experience, she seems fresh and polite, positive and kind.
I realize that my lack of sleep is seriously interfering with my perspective just now. I take a deep breath and let it go. Little did I know I should be prepared to take an even deeper breath when I entered the gallery, because the Dancing Screen in the first room will take your breath away.
The Dancing Screen, Audain Art Museum, Whistler, BC
Close up of the Dancing Screen
This screen fills the room. Intricate carvings, creatures and aqua gilded fish are immediately captivating. I am told that part of the screen opens to reveal a doorway through.
In addition to this magnificent piece of Pacific Northwest art, the museum displays 39 different First Nation masks created by the Coast Salish, Haida, Nisga’a, Haida, Tsimshian, Kwakwaka’wakw, Nuxalx, Gitk’san, Tlingit, Heiltsuk, Nuu-chah-nulth, and Nuxalk nations.
It also houses works of renown Canadian artist Emily Carr and contemporary photographer Edward Byrtynski’s series The Scarred Earth.
This collection of First Nation art is just as stunning as the Bill Reid Gallery of Northwest Coastal Art. It is truly a world class collection. Between runs on the ski hill, or trips to the spa, be sure to put this amazing collection on your Whistler itinerary.
First Nation Mask
***
Whistler Village
Whistler Village is thoughtfully designed. Like most ski towns, it’s a combination of shops and restaurants strategically placed around plazas, with lodging above. But Whistler did an exceptionally good job in designing this outdoor “mall”. The architecture isn’t too heavy. It’s on the eclectic side, with contemporary tones which, to me, feel much better than the heavy mountain designs of some ski villages that, in time, I think will feel dated. There is plenty of open space and vistas of the surrounding mountains. And the unexpected addition of outstanding art offers interest beyond the outdoors.
But the outdoors is what Whistler is about. This weekend there is mountain bike race and the crowds gather around the finish line at the base of one of the hills.
Bikes for rent in Whistler Village
From the 2010 Winter Olympics, a look at this phenomenal ski town in its winter element:
Whistler is beyond beautiful, but for me it evokes mixed feelings. I look at daring ski runs that I won’t ski and it brings back many ski memories from other mountains. I was a very good skier. I once had someone stop me and comment on how graceful I looked skiing a mogul field. And I loved moguls. Not the nearly vertical Volkswagen sized bumps, but the more moderate fields where you could choose a line and follow it through the terrain. There is a certain grace and elegance of being in the flow as you navigate the slope. I’m lucky to have experienced it, but I also feel the loss.
Whistler/Backcomb ski runs
There is something about the mountains that I just love. The towering rock descending to water. The wild abandon of a river coursing through the woods. I think its the primitive experience of the elements and the outdoors that touch me so. I fell in love with the Sierras my first night at the Truckee airfield so many years ago, and that mountain love is part of my heart and soul.
Normally hiking is high on the agenda, but this trip is short, and I need to adjust to the weather, welcome rain, that is clearing the skies of soot and smoke. I scale back my ambitions and head to Green Lake.
My urban walking poles go almost everywhere with me.
My Urban Poling walking sticks come along. I have really fallen for these things. They keep me upright; provide a bit of balance and support. and help create a brisk tempo for my expedition. I like to walk under any circumstances, but I love walking with these.
The area is full of easy walking paths and campgrounds that line the river. Signs warn of bear-safe camping. And not far away is Green Lake. The area sports a golf course, restaurant and (best of all!) a seaplane base. I have a thing for seaplanes. Part romance (think Pan Am Clipper or the Dornier WW II amphibian , a DO-24ATT, in which I did splash and goes in Tahoe!), part adventure, if it has floats (or is amphibian), count me in! :
Seaplane taking off on Green Lake
The seaplane base for rides of the valley and the glacier
A view of Green Lake from the walking path
From here, it’s a short walk to the entry of Scandinavie Spa:
Normally I’m not a spa person, but this afternoon I need the relaxation of moving from hot to cold and back again; from pool to sauna; from a chair around the fire, to a deep massage. Sitting in the warm sunshine, in the cool mountain air. I leave feeling wonderfully relaxed and rested.
As an aside, my parking overcharge was gracefully and swiftly handled by the municipality. (So kindly Canadian!) Apparently this happens often. So I can rest assured it’s not a personal parking karma thing!
Karma once brought me to the Sierras where I spent eighteen wonderful years. I first moved into a rented condo in Incline Village, and then down to southwest Reno, where my house looked up at the Sierras. I’d watch the sun rise and her light spread from the top of the hills down to their base. I’d watch the wave clouds form, presaging a frontal weather passage. Snow hugged the peaks during winter and created a raging Truckee River for tubing during the rest of the season. Mountain areas are wonderful.
While I love mountain towns, I have to wonder if this phase of my life has passed me by. The excitement of the Whistler Village after a long day on the slopes is no longer mine. The crowd is the age I was, not so long ago. Our elders always talk about how time passes, but it’s not until we experience it ourselves do we realize the brevity of this experience. Part of my heart will always live in this terrain, and part of my soul will always ski bumps and will always fly airplanes. I consider myself lucky to have these pieces of my soul in my heart, now and always.
“There comes a time when the world gets quiet and the only thing left is your own heart. So you’d better learn the sound of it. Otherwise you’ll never understand what it’s saying.” -Sarah Dessen, Just Listen
I had considered writing a long post, about all the different oysters I’ve tried at various places. I’ve conscienciously jotted down all the names and my thoughts on each. But let me simply cut to the chase.
There is always a trade off between price, ambiance and quality. I love a dive bar with great food. I love to save a bit of money, particularly on the road. But there are times when the most upscale, seemingly expensive establishment is the way to go. And it may be no more expensive than many other options.
After nearly a week of smoke and heat, combined with stale cooking odors and no sleep, I desperately needed some self care, and for me that often involves a good meal. I’d scoped out the seafood restaurants in town and had at least a mental list of those that I’d like to try if they worked into my itinerary.
YEW Seafood + Bar was one of them. And it just happened to be located in the Four Seasons, just across the way from the Gallery with the Monet exhibit. And it just happens to be wonderfully air conditioned and a refuge from the smoke outside.
The downstairs lobby is busy with people coming and going. An escalator leads up to the main lobby, and tucked discreetly off to the side is YEW. Their mantra:
Modern. Coastal. Social.
Yew’ll be hooked.
And hooked I am.
Oysters at YEW Seafood + Bar, Four Seasons, Vancouver BC
I sat at the bar (what’s new!) and perused the menu. But of course, oysters to start. If this is to be a decadent take-care-of-myself-luncheon, it calls for oysters.
Six perfect oysters with lemon and mignonette. I need this. I feel the soot and the heat that have settled in my throat. But the cool brininess is taking over, one oyster at a time, and life is feeling good again.
It’s beautiful; it’s cool in the restaurant. The bartender is friendly and helpful without being intrusive. The restaurant has the hum of a well run, happy establishment.
It’s not inexpensive, but not overly expensive either. Either way, on this hot, smokey day, I do not care. It gives me respite from that nasty condo where I am supposed to sleep.
After six perfect oysters, leaving is still not on my agenda. I’m hungry and it’s hot and smokey outside.
I order a Salade Nicoise.
Salade Nicose for me is both health food and comfort food. It has many of my favorite elements: greens, eggs, green beans, Mediterranean olives, potatoes, and of course tuna. Perhaps a hint of anchovy. To sing, it needs to have the ingredients drawn together with just the right touch of richness and tang in the dressing. Each item has to shine, yet happily compliment all the others.
This salad can be bold and peasanty, or more elegant and refined.
The Four seasons version of the salad arrives. It is beautifully constructed and arranged. It falls somewhere between the peasant version (which I usually make at home) and Riviera elegance. I dip my fork into the greens.
Perfection.
Salade Nicoise, Four Seasons, Vancouver BC
The egg is perfected boiled, a bit on the soft side; the black olives are pitted and not too salty; and just the smallest bit of perfect white anchovy is interspersed in the greens.
Four large pieces of barely seared tuna sit atop the salad.
I realize I am starved. With each bite, I get another combination of lovely ingredients, prepared and presented perfectly. The quality of the tuna is outstanding It’s so fresh, and fork tender. I consider repeating this meal every day until I leave for Whistler.
The perfect end to the perfect lunch at Yew, Four Seasons, Vancouver
I finish off lunch with an espresso with lemon peel. Just the way I like it. It’s real espresso, done right.
Life is good again.
I love nice surroundings. I am comfortable there. I recall the vast sitting areas in the Madrid Ritz with the glass ceiling high above; the (formerly) shabby chic of the Algonquin; the grounds overlooking the Aegean at Lagonissi, where I spent many a summer.
Then it hits me.
Hard.
I haven’t done this for a while. Since, well, cancer.
This simple meal speaks volumes to me. About my life trajectory, my expectations and my experiences of recent years.
The stock market and real estate market tanked, just as I was starting my first round of treatment. I went from a paper net worth of millions, to not so much. Out of fear and a need for cash for cancer treatment, I pulled money from the market. My investment advisor fired me. I realized later that he didn’t make a commission on anything that sat in cash (and his “firing” me was probably illegal). I should have known that, but at the time I was consumed with a diagnosis of incurable cancer. I faced an uncertain future on so many levels. The antics of my investment advisor who had just lost half of my portfolio were hardly my major concern.
Like most cancer patients, I felt helpless. Helplessness over the uncertainty of the entire situation; helplessness over the outcome of treatment and the after effects of the drugs; helplessness over the mounting costs; helplessness as the tech creeps walked off with my hard earned intellectual property.
Sitting in the Vancouver Four Seasons having this perfect meal, I realize that I deserve many more perfect meals. I deserve a different life trajectory than the one of recent years.
A mind that is stretched by a new experience can never go back to its old dimensions. – Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr.
The Price of Perfection
I also realized that by “indulging” in this perfect meal, it cost me no more than many not so perfect meals of late. Some of the establishments that I visited pitched dollar oysters, then did a bait and switch. The type of oyster offered for a dollar was hardly a Kumamoto. I often ended up with a plate of very mediocre oysters that cost me nearly as much as this perfect lunch.
So where’s the moral in the story? To paraphrase the famous Cyndi Lauper song:
“And girls they wanna have lunch Oh girls just want to have lunch…”
Preferably at the Four Seasons.
To the Four Seasons Vancouver and Yew, my heart felt thanks on many levels!
Seldom do one’s travels go exactly as planned. I’d anticipated getting outdoors a good deal during my stay in Vancouver, but that was not meant to be. The city was shrouded in heavy smoke from the British Columbia wildfires and experiencing an unusual heat wave.
It’s been HOT, HOT, HOT!
And no place has it been hotter than in the Airbnb that I stayed in.
No air flow to speak of through the condo, and worse yet, no air conditioning.
Seriously?
Apparently in Seattle and Vancouver hot weather is uncommon enough that it is somewhat common not to have any central cooling.
In the future, this is a question I will be asking of any potential places I stay. Because my accommodations, in this very nice condo, have been miserable.
Under normal circumstances, I’d recommend this Airbnb. It’s located in a relatively new building in Chinatown on Keefer street. Great location. It’s within easy walking distance of Gastown and there are two parking garages on the street, one of which is modern and for an urban area, fairly well priced.
The entire Airbnb experience started off well enough. The “owner” (I suspect she was managing this particular unit) was kind enough to meet me a bit early at the property. We chatted. She babbled about the number of properties she has and how the city wanted her to get a business license. She was obviously proud of her growing real estate empire via Airbnb. And capitalizing on what has been the skyrocketing Vancouver real estate market, no doubt. Good for her.
She ran me through the basics of the condo. The keys; how to use the elevator.
I asked about the air conditioning. I am a bit of a utility whore. I can’t stand being too hot.
Suddenly her perfect English disappeared. “Fan, fan” she said, pointing agitatedly to a free standing fan unit in the corner. She turned and practically ran out the door.
I watched as the door closed behind her and the heavy curtains moved in the smokey, hot breeze.
A fan. Really.
I’m pretty adaptable, but the sweat was starting to pour out of me. Rivuets of moisture ran down my face and back as I surveyed the situation.
The sun struggling through the smoky haze was beating its heat into the condo.
The only possible sources of ventilation were two small windows, each in a wall of windows, in the main room and the bedroom. Each window cantilevered out about three inches, barely catching any passing breeze. And there was a door to a small patio.
The patio overlooked the rooftop of a restaurant next door. And on the rooftop were a series of six massive exhaust fans that obviously served the kitchen. I say obviously, because the odor of used cooking oil and Chinese seasonings rose up though the hazy air and into the condo.
Surveying the situation, I guessed that opening the patio door during the late evening into morning, and closing the unit during the mid day heat would offer the best strategy. It would be a tradeoff between sweltering heat and the wafting odors of stale cooking smells.
I got on line to see what my cancellation options were, and what else was available. The cancellation procedures were rather byzantine and definitely not in my favor. The only hotel rooms in town seemed to start at $400-500 dollars per night. Plus parking. Plus taxes. Plus the cost of this Airbnb. Leaving was not really an option.
Ok, let’s see if I can’t manage this. I’ve been through much worse, although at the moment, I can’t recall when.
The first night I simply roasted in the putrid air. There is no relief, just more claustrophobic heat and the wafting odors of dead cooking oil from the building next door. The exhaust fans on the roof below create a palpable hum that reverberates through everything from the air to the mattress.
Here is my review for the Airbnb site on this Vancouver condo:
“The unit has no air conditioning. In the winter with closed windows, this would be irrelevant. It is a very nice unit. But in a smoke filled summer, in a heat wave, this is appalling. The stench of the fried food coming off of the kitchen fans that dominate the roof of the building next door is revolting. The noise is deafening. Even with earphones on, the relentless strumming noise still reverberates through the apartment.
The lack of transparency by the host to note the noise, the odor and note the lack of air conditioning is not ok. It’s particularly not ok for me: I have both asthma and cancer. This is a high heat, noise filled, odor horrific experience I don’t need.
Bottom line, ask a LOT of questions, including surroundings, utilities and refunds under adverse conditions. If you don’t have to open the windows, this is a great place. If you do, be prepared for the gentle squawk of the morning seagulls to give way to the reverberations of massive fan units on the roof next door, followed by stale cooking odors that waft upwards and linger in the condo indefinitely. And should you care for a glass of wine, BYOC (bring your own corkscrew). The kitchen is poorly equipped.”
But finally, 4 nights later, the heat wave is beginning to break and an offshore low is bringing fresh sea air and rain to the area. I have finally slept at least a good part of the night. Well rested (compared to the rest of the sweltering week), I set off to explore Chinatown in a bit more detail.
Vancouver Chinatown
A view in Dr. Sun Yat-Sen’s Chinese Garden, Vancouver, Canada
I am a very visual person. I think about sight lines and patterns as I put together a room or an image (the latter is a fledgling skill). When others show similar thought, I notice. And a place of note for exquisite balance and beauty is the Dr. Sun Yat-Sen Classical Chinese Garden and the attached public gardens.
The art and design of this property integrates yin and yang; references to other world, human and earthly elements. Much like the Bill Reid Gallery, the elements of design have great depth, complexity and often ambiguity which is one of the things that makes them so interesting.
The integration of the past with the present, with an eye to the future evolution of a garden such as this is a monumental task. All great gardens have a timeless depth to them. I once stayed in a bed and breakfast on Cape Cod with a garden designed by Olmsted. Through the tranquility you could feel the love and care that went into its creation. It was a sacred space.
What makes a sacred garden space? I think it’s a space that suspends us in thought, time and place. Its an ageless, soulful experience, that moves through time, day by day and decade by decade.
Here a just a few images of shifting shadows, beautiful vistas, bridges and paths from from Dr. Sun Yat-Sen’s garden:
Bridge in the public garden
A view into the garden from the teahouse
Chinese Garden, Vancouver
This is a magical garden that is well worth a visit. And it’s a great starting point for a walking tour of Vancouver’s Chinatown. From the brochure, allow me to provide a bit of background on this wonderful oasis in the midst of the city:
“The Dr. Sun Yat-Sen Classical Chinese Garden is the first classical garden constructed ouside of China. Its financing and construction represent a unique cooperative effort between Canada, the People’s Republic of China and Vancouver’s Chinese and non-Chinese communities. It is modeled after the highest standards of private classical gardens in the city of Suzhou during the Ming Dynasty (1368-1644).
These Suzhou-style gardens represent the apex of Chinese architecture, philosophy, art and calligraphy.
Note the detailed pebble design in the main courtyard
A team of 53 experts from Suzhou spent 13 months constructing the Garden. Working with them were Vancouver architect Joe Wai and the landscape architect Don Vaughan. The materials, tools and techniques used were nearly identical to those used centuries ago. Most of the architectural components were shipped from China; hand fired roof tiles, carved woodwork, lattice windows, limestone rocks and even the courtyard pebbles.
Construction of the Garden began in March 1985. This labouroflove cost $5.3 million (Canadian) and was officially opened in 1986. In June 2004, the $1.9 million new wing, designed by Joe Wai Arcitects and featuring the Hall of One Hundred Rivers, was opened to complement the existing garden spaces.”
On this day, just around the corner, a street fair is taking place. Booths line the streets; vendors inhabit the booths; and people browse.
Street fair in Chinatown, Vancouver
In one booth, a potter brings clay to life:
New Town Bakery in Chinatown, Vancouver
I browse the streets, looking for a Chinese bakery I had passed the other day. Since no cruise through Chinatown would be complete without some Dim Sum, I stopped in New Town Bakery and Restaurant. The shrimp dumplings are simply perfect. I tip my imaginary hat to Eva as I enjoy these delicate morsels. Dim sum is available to eat on the premises or to go. The dining facilities are limited, and many people place large orders to go.
This bakery and dim sum restaurant is not an unknown find I can take credit for. It’s been discovered by others as well:
2012 : CNN Travel | World’s best Chinatowns : “Must-visit restaurant” in Vancouver Chinatown
Be sure you discover it too, when you visit Vancouver.
Vancouver Lighthouse Park
In my continued attempts to find relief from the heat, I plotted trips to places near the water, using my (air conditioned) car. This both kept me out of the smoke ridden air and heat, avoided the parking meister in the parking garage (who found countless ways to pad my parking bill), and at least partially avoided the horrifically hot, odorific condo. It also expanded my explorations.
Urban Poles revolutionize the walking experience.
Naturally I drove through Stanley Park. I wish it had been clear enough to see the surrounding hills and mountains. But even in the smoky murk, it is spectacular. I had planned to get my Urban Poles out and walk the perimeter, but it wasn’t meant to be this trip. (If you decide to try a pair of Urban Poles, use the discount code in the right sidebar just for readers of CancerRoadTrip).
Lions Gate Bridge connects the Stanley Park to North and West Vancouver. I can imagine what the city must look and feel like in good weather. But all I can see is smoke and haze.
Map-Lighthouse Park
Even under such conditions, Canada is so beautiful. Even the currency is gorgeous. I shall come back for a more extensive trip. But this foray into the northern and western suburbs was wonderful.
A view of the lighthouse in Lighthouse Park. Note that the smoke totally obscures the view of Vancouver
While still hot, being near the water and in the densely forested walk down to the lighthouse helped still the heat somewhat. And the smoke was slowly starting to break up as the first suggestions of a low pressure system moved into the area.
The park is situated in a rain forest that receives over 50 inches of rain per year. Numerous trails wind their way through the grounds and on this day, a park ranger warned everyone of a bear that seemed to be wandering about as well. Perhaps he too was seeking some relief from the stagnant weather.
Vancouver Maritime Museum
Another heat avoiding possibility presented itself: The Maritime Museum, across the Burrard Street Bridge. In addition to the museum, the walking paths along the water are worth a trip unto themselves. And it was a good 5 degrees cooler, especially in the shade.
Everywhere I go in Vancouver, I am struck by what a human city this is. It’s clean; spectacular; the people are great, and it’s very walkable. The link to the Canadian outdoors is an integral part of life here, even more than in the Seattle area. Vancouver is truly a world class city with world class amenities. And oysters. But that’s another post!
Northwest Passage, an imaginary inland waterway that appeared on maps for many years
The museum turned out to be an absolute delight. For those of you that read this blog regularly, you know that I collect and am endlessly curious about rare maps and the exploration of North America. One of the most interesting aspects (for me) of this museum was the fact that it was the Canadians that finally managed to navigate a Northwest Passage. This museum is dedicated to that effort.
Originally, the Northwest Passage was a 18th century myth made up about a way to navigate from the east coast to the west, via an inland waterway. This myth persisted for years. But an actual Northwest Passage was finally found by the Canadian ship the St. Roch (pronounced ROCK), a Canadian mounted Police Schooner, made of thick Douglas fir, and lined with Australian eucalyptus. In 1940–1942 she became first vessel to complete a voyage through the Northwest Passage, an arctic route, winding through ice blocked passages and an archipelago of islands, in a west to east direction.
The museum features a fully restored St. Roch, right at waters edge. Which means it’s a spectacular location with cooling ocean breezes. I think I won big time with this expedition.
Viva la Canada!
Viva La Canada!
Granville Island
And of course, a visit to Vancouver had to include Granville Island Market:
Flowers! At the market!
All sorts of vendors are present at the market. This pickle company had an assortment of homemade pickles to die for!
The Pacific Northwest has an amazing assortment of great local food. this stand displays the “usual” assortment of local, fresh produce.
This shop offered all things tea and made the perfect almond milk latte for my morning matcha fix.
The water taxi brings people to the island market.
“Our voyage began in myth time…” says the Haida myth maker.
So starts the tale of The Spirit of Haida Gwaii. But to understand the history of this iconic and transcendent work of art, one must reset one’s contemporary clock to myth time, Pacific Northwest. In this time zone, earth merges with sea, indigenous people with animals and spirits, and timeless voyages of mythic proportions are undertaken.
Haida Gwaii aka Queen Charlotte Islands
Bill Reid’s Haida Heritage
The Haida, (sometimes spelled Hydah), are an indigenous people of the Pacific Northwest Coast from Haida Gwaii in northern British Columbia, Canada. They’ve occupied this archipelago for more than 17,000 years.
Like other people of the Pacific Northwest, their heritage is intimately tied to the land and the sea. Of the 150 islands in this archipelago, the largest are Graham Island in the north and Moresby Island in the south. Vancouver lies well to the southeast across the Hecate Strait. Alaska, where the Haida have resided for over 200 years, lies to the north.
Bill Reid was a renown Canadian historian, writer, master goldsmith, carver, and sculptor, and son of a Haida mother and Scottish father. It was his Haida heritage that would eventually lead him to become one of Canada’s greatest artists.
Bill Reid possessed many skills. His communication skills fostered connection and understanding. His gold and silver smithing created spectacular jewelry with a strong Haida influence. And his sculpting skills would lead to a number of magnificent bronzes reflecting his Haida heritage.
The Spirit of Haida Gwaii
He is perhaps best known for his most public bronze, the Spirit of Haida Gwaii. Two casts were made: The Spirit of Haida Gwaii, the Black Canoe resides in the Canadian embassy in Washington DC and The Spirit of Haida Gwaii, the Jade Canoe, is in the Vancouver International Airport.
Other pieces of his work can be seen at The Bill Reid Gallery of Northwest Coastal Art. This gallery is a national and human treasure, showcasing the pride and exceptional richness of Pacific Northwest history.
Much like the Carriers of the Canoe in the Suquamish Museum in Washington, The Spirit of Haida Gwaii melds a diverse group of mythical creatures that tie land, sea and humanity together in a voyage across time.
In the canoe, the Raven holds the steering oar. The Raven is the trickster of Haida mythology, the bringer of change. She is both powerful and flighty. As a steersman, will her guidance bring stability or (mis)adventure?
Mouse Woman, under Raven’s tail, provides a strong moral compass as she strives for balance between earth and her creatures.
Grizzly bear, stares at Raven. The bear represents freedom and understanding, family and stability. He brings comfort and companionship to the others.
Bear Mother, grizzly’s human wife, gave birth to twin bear cubs creating a human-bear bond. Legend has it that she was the daughter of a prominent tribesman. Her two cubs, Good Bear and Bad Bear are distinguished by the direction in which their ears point.
“Dogfish Woman is another powerful figure in the pantheon of beings of the sea. The dogfish is a small variety of shark that inhabits the waters of Haida Gwaii. Dogfish Woman is a crest belonging to many of the Haida clans, and is related to a story of a woman ancestor who could transform herself into a dogfish. It is in this form that she enters into a whole other realm of experience, the undersea world.”
Other figures such as Eagle, Frog and Wolf also inhabit the boat, each bringing their mythological strengths and weaknesses to the voyage. In the middle is the human Shaman who holds a staff carved with images of Seabear, Raven, and Killer Whale.
The sculpture is 20 ft long, almost 13 ft from the base to the top of the Shaman’s staff, and weighs nearly 11,000 pounds.
Bill Reid’s Haida Gwaii is a bronze of unbelievable complexity, both in execution and in its story. For in the story of this sculpture, lies the story of its people. And, indeed, of indigenous people everywhere. The museum has an extraordinarily moving video that explores the various elements of this bronze on the second floor mezzanine . It is mesmerizing. If you go, do not walk by these films, tucked quietly alongside the beautifully sculpted handrail. Be sure to stop and be drawn in by the richness of this transcendent tale.
The Bill Reid Gallery of Northwest Coastal Art viewed from the upstairs balcony
The Bill Reid Gallery of Northwest Coastal Art holds so many wonderful surprises, ranging from jewelry based on Haida Gwaii tradition, to another magnificent bronze-Mythic Messengers- mounted high above the ground floor gallery. (These pictures don’t begin to do justice to the extraordinary artwork in this museum).
Close up of Mythic Messengers
According to Bill Reid:
“this work was inspired by a device often used by Haida artists, an exchange of tongues, whereby power was communicated from one mythic creature to another. At a deeper level, the power of these old forms, born of a mythological past, reinterpreted through new materials and techniques, in a contemporary setting, can still speak to us across time, space, and enormous cultural differences.”
Using these mythic creatures, the bronze tells five stories:
The Bear Family: Mother, Prince and their two cubs
Nanasimget, his wife, and her Killer Whale abductor
Wasgo, the Sea Wolf who feasts on three whales a day, joined by the Frog, his spiritual helper
The Dogfish Woman, a female Shaman with great powers
The Eagle Prince
The piece was originally commissioned by Teleglobe Canada and later donated to the museum.
Bill Reid was equally adept in numerous mediums. Here is a sampling of his work from the museum:
Bill Reid captured mythic images in gold jewelry.
Haida Necklace. The “rope” is made of ivory.
Bil Reid was also a talented sculptor.
A paper cache mural of Dogfish
This gallery is a showcase of the exceptional richness of Pacific Northwest history through Bill Reids eyes and talents. If you only go to one museum in Vancouver, I highly recommend this one, for its exploration of the past, the incredible quality of Bill Reid’s works and contributions, and just for fun. It is a stunning gallery to visit and to share.
On Bill Reid:
On the collected works:
The Vancouver Art Gallery: Impressionist Exhibit
Vancouver Art Gallery
Impressionists weren’t shrouded in myth. At least not when they started out. If anything these visionary renegades were aggressively shunned by the traditional art world. But their vision would provide to be a pivot point for the history of art, bridging from the traditional portrait painters to the modernity of contemporary art.
The Monet exhibit at the Vancouver Museum of Art includes Monet’s iconic painting that lent the name Impressionist to the painter’s movement. While some of Monet’s more familiar art is present, a great deal of darker paintings from his latter days at Giverny, when his eyesight was failing him, are also part of the collection. The exhibit is well worth seeing, but it falls short of the Impressionist show that toured San Fransicso some years back and little can compare with his Paris displays.
One of the most remarkable paintings in this touring collection is the painting that inadvertently provided the name of the Impressionist movement: Impression, Sunrise.
Impression, Sunrise by Monet
This painting was first shown at the Exhibition of the Impressionists in April 1874. It depicts the port of Le Havre.
The entire collection is accompanied by Stephen Shore’s photographic collection that follows the restoration of Giverny. This set of photographs alone is fascinating, as it chronicles the loving restoration of Monet’s famous house and gardens. All in all, a great exhibit.
Footnote: My original plan in Vancouver was to focus on the amazing outdoor aspect of this Pacific northwest city. But wildfires in British Columbia, plus a heat wave, created very bad air quality, which necessitated a change in my focus. That plus an lodging misadventure (story to come!). The vagaries of travel! Stay tuned for more on my #Vancouver adventure.
I had always intended to go to Vancouver with Eva.
Eva was born in Czechoslovakia and emigrated to Canada. She had lived in Richmond, just south of Vancouver, before moving in next door to me in Connecticut, and she was eager to show me her adopted “hometown”. But the opportunity never quite came together. Between moves, divorces and then sadly, her death, we never got to make that trip together.
Eva died of liver failure. I suspect it was at least partly due to an inordinate fondness for alcohol. But she was a big girl, with big appetites, and that included quantity, as well as sometimes quality. I wish I could find that picture of the two of us. Me in my preppy tweed, Burberry coat and boots. Eva in stretch lycra, big hair and leather and always wearing her big, wonderful smile.
You couldn’t juxtapose two more different women, yet that was a key part of the friendship. She wanted whatever was bright and hot and cool. She could own a handbag for a week and be done with it. I, on the other hand, would carefully choose my classic Coach bag and keep it forever. She adored touristy stuff and chachkies. I didn’t care for either. She was extremely gregarious; I was more reserved.
From New Haven to Newport
Eva insisted on a day trip to Newport, RI to see the mansions. Yawn. I had zero interest. But I got dragged along, as driver and friend.
Eva’s enthusiasm and appetites were always engaging, and Newport suited her to a tee. The more gold, the better! The more sordid the history, the more involved she got. The gaudier the building, the more it pleased Eva.
The truth is, I had a blast. From the Renaissance excess of The Breakers, to the bobbing boats in the harbor, it was a great day. Part of it was the company. Part of it was a simple realization on my part:
Touristy things can be a bunch of fun
Seattle and Mt. Rainer from the Space Needle
Preferably followed by a good lunch to ease the madness of crowds. A recent visit to the Space Needle is a case in point. The view was magnificent, and Mount Ranier was visible in the background. But the elevator opened to the smell of stale popcorn with synthetic butter. And the unrelenting, senseless loudness of people in crowds never ceases to amaze me.
Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak out and remove all doubt. -Abraham Lincoln
Sculptural orbs line the walkway under the Space Needle
Chihuly Outdoor Gardens
The grounds surrounding the Space Needle were beautiful and the integration of blown glass forms into the outdoor gardens was my favorite part of the Chihuly Garden and Glass exhibit.
For me, the most interesting aspect of this monument from the 1962 World’s Fair was the historic story board that lines the ramp leading up to the glass enclosed elevator. (Note: The elevator is touristy fun. The story board makes the long wait touristy fun too.) As is the history of the fair:
The theme of the fair was modern science and space exploration. The U.S. government was eager to display it’s prowess in these areas and provided $9 million towards funding the event which was held April 21 through October 21, 1962. It drew almost 10 million visitors, including me and my family. And Elvis Presley, who was shooting a movie in the area (I missed Elvis). The fair was opened to 538 ringing bells, 2000 balloons, and 10 Air Force F-102’s overhead. From the City of Seattle Archives here is an overview of the fair’s offerings.
The Federal Science Pavilion, “a virtual cathedral of science”
The fair brought back vague, childhood memories. I recalled some of the buildings; I loved the fact that the monorail was still in use. But overall, I was grateful that my morning would soon be afternoon at the nearby Queen Anne location for Taylor’s Seafood.
Perhaps I’m still a bit of a tourist curmudgeon. Eva wouldn’t have let me get away with that attitude.
The last time I saw Eva was around 1989/90 when I stayed with her in southern California. I visited as I tried to sort out my ex-husband’s infidelities and lies. I wasn’t very good company as I obsessed about events over which I had no control. But at least I was aware of my ranting, and I left so as not to wear out my welcome. This bit of consideration on my part would be one of the key events that led to my learning to fly. Little did I know how life would unfold, or that I would never see Eva again.
So the intent of this trip to Vancouver is partly in remembrance; partly, to fulfill a promise; and, as always, partly for some adventure.
And I shall do some very touristy things.
But I had counted on Eva to show me around. We were supposed to go to the market on Granville Island. We were supposed to do dim sum. This trip I’m solo. Can one even do dim sum alone?
The purpose of dim sum is to visit and browse and explore the many little tastes of the perfect little morsels of food offered during the experience. Dim sum has it’s roots in the Silk Road, where travelers were served small bite sized foots along with tea. For many Chinese, it is a family brunch tradition, although it’s morphed to be served as snacks in China, or even as dinner in some restaurants. Eva and I would have had a blast, exploring the menu and finding our favorites.
Granville Market, Vancouver
Granville Market is another landmark that Eva and I had planned to visit. She was learning to cook, so each food offered new possibilities for her boundless enthusiasm.
I remember when she spilled an entire bottle of soy sauce on a very white wall to wall carpet in her home. Aided by a bit of wine, the recipe got away from her, and portions of the carpet were now a mottled, speckled, ugly brown mess. She was desperate to hide the spot from her somewhat older, domineering German husband.
As I recall, some combination of seltzer/salt and or baking soda was finally fairly effective at soaking up the stain. But soy sauce was now on the to-be-avoided list of ingredients lest the wine get away with the recipe. And when Eva started venturing into raw fish dishes, I stepped in and became the gravlax expert for that summer, hopefully tactfully managing the possibility of food poisoning running amuck through the neighborhood.
Those days were such fun. We were all young and happy and settled (or so I thought); so sure of our paths in life. I cannot believe some of the events that transpired after those years. But memories of my big haired, lycra wearing friend have always been with me, and on this next foray to Vancouver, Eva lives on.
“To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die.” –Thomas Campbell
So, dim sum and Granville Market. Then we shall see what tourist fun Vancouver comes up with. Because I shall do some very touristy things.
“He was a bold man that first ate an oyster.” – Jonathan Swift
It was in a Versailles restaurant that I ate my first oyster. The year was 1960 something.
I’d watched as waiters delivered tiered plates to the table. On each plate, on each tier, was a different type of oyster.
“Have you ever had huitres?” Horst inquired. Horst was a German business associate of my father’s who lived in France.
“No.” I replied, craning to see what all the fuss was about at the neighboring table.
“Well you must try them! Garcon!” And so oysters arrived at the table and into my life. I was chronologically about eight years old, with the taste preferences of an impossible adult diva.
My first briny taste was awe inspiring. I had a new favorite food.
At the time, it was considered gracious to provide menus without prices to the guests at the table. My father, quickly seeing my ability to find the most esoteric and expensive item on the menu regardless of language or currency, gave me the price list to consider in my menu meanderings.
Not that it really influenced me. Certainly not when it came to oysters.
Oysters in Connecticut were usually fried. Big plates of succulent oysters, with lemon and tartar sauce on the water in Guilford. Or fried and stuffed into a grilled filet mignon at the Griswold Inn in Essex. It wasn’t until New Orleans that I was reunited with my favorite crustacean au naturelle.
And Rockefeller. And in pan fries, and in a hundred other creative combinations. In New Orleans, the combination of culinary creativity and oysters ROCKED! Raw, Rockefeller, fried in a po’ boy. OMG. I’ll have one of each! From In a Half Shell is a look at some New Orleanian takes on this crustacean. And I’ll be in New Orleans this fall. I may just have to revive this particular theme.
Local New Orleans lore held that you only ate oysters in months with an “R”. One studiously avoided eating oysters in months that do not contain an “R” (May through August). Perhaps. But here in Seattle, there seem to be no such cultural restrictions.
Thaiku in Seattle
May Kitchen on Vashon Island
In my quest for oysters, I have to admit I get waylaid. Guay Tiaw Tom Yum Nahm Kon (Wild cod, prawns, salmon stuffed tofu, egg, beanspouts, cilantro, scallion , egg noodles in a rich hot and sour shrimp broth) from Thaiku lured me to Thai rather than oysters. Green curry on Vashon at May Kitchen lured me to the curried side. But now I am on an oyster quest. Nothing will stop me.
There are at least 17 varieties of oysters available in the South Puget Sound Oyster Appellation of Washington State. This appellation ranges from Port Townsend to Bellingham, WA. From the Chef’s Resources, these include:
I put out an inquiry on social media and a number of places were recommended. Two of the most highly suggested were Taylor’s Shellfish Farms where their tagline is “From Tide to Table” and The Walrus and the Carpenter in Ballard:
The Walrus and the Carpenter Walked on a mile or so, And then they rested on a rock Conveniently low: And all the little Oysters stood And waited in a row.
The Walrus and The Carpenter is BEHIND this restaurant
The Walrus and the Carpenter, named after Lewis Carroll’s famous poem, is a “hot” restaurant. Located at 4743 Ballard Ave. NW, Seattle WA 98107 in Ballard, This neighborhood restaurant/bar is not far from the weekend Farmer’s Market. During the week they offer a happy hour from 4-6pm Monday through Friday.
But first you have to be able to find it.
The restaurant facing the street is NOT the Walrus and the Carpenter. You need to look for the little neon sign that leads to a nondescript corridor, that passes Barnacle (an Italian themed seafood bar owned by the same people) that finally leads to a bright, bustling seafood bar and restaurant.
The entry parallels the open kitchen and marble bar. Baskets of fresh oysters on ice tempt you immediately.
The bustling bar at the Walrus and the Carpenter
The menu is fairly straight forward. My selection of oysters du jour are Fanny Bay, Eld Inlet, Glacier, Houg Cove, Calm Cove and Totten.
Every oyster I eat is my favorite, but the Fanny Bays are really outstanding. Progressing from their delicate flavor to the slightly brinier Eld Inlet, a taste of mineralogy and brine linger with an almost tangy sweet aftertaste when combined with the shallot mignonette.
I’m in love.
I also ordered a very nice Jo Landron, Les Houx Muscadet. There is something about Muscadet and oysters that always seems to work. And this combination simply sings.
I also ordered some fried oysters which were encased in a chunky, slightly spicy crust and served with a delightful cilantro aioli. Warm, soft, crunch: perfect. But the oysters on the half shell are what really speak to my soul.
On such a soulful quest, no oyster should be ignored so my next stop is a local’s favorite, Taylor’s Shellfish Farms with locations in Pioneer Square, Capitol Hill, and Queen Anne.
Taylor’s in neon at the Queen Anne location
The Queen Anne restaurant is located on Republican Street near the Space Needle and the Performing Arts Center. The restaurant has a slightly modern, simple flair. The star is meant to be the seafood, not the decor.
The menu is limited, but unlimited in its bounty. Oysters, oysters and more oysters. There are also steamed clams, three ways:
Classic: Herb-shallot butter, sugar peas, thyme, white wine
Thai Curry: Tomato, coconut milk, ginger, jalapeño, green onion
And salads, soups and even a grilled cheese sandwich that is paired with Macrina Focaccia, Beecher’s Flagship, Provolone and a pickled red onion and arugula salad. And mussels and other seafood.
And oysters. Did I mention the oysters?
The oyster bar at the Queen Anne Taylor’s
Today’s Shucker’s Dozen included Sumo Kumo, Fat Bastard, Pacific, Shikoku and Kumamoto. What can I say other than briny bliss?
I eat my oysters simply with a shallot mignonette. A bit of lemon. No heavy chili sauces for me. I want to taste the oyster.
Taylors is a bit of a local legend. The family has been farming the waters of Puget Sound since the 1890’s. They have a combination of restaurants and retail seafood shops. They also raise and sell seafood internationally.
Here in Washington state, in every town they do business, they make it a point to give back. They’re deeply focused on their community, with an emphasis on youth and community service. And naturally, they’re deeply routed in creating a healthy, sustainable environment for seafood and much more.
The menus vary slightly by location, and of course, by season. At the Capitol Hill location, I added a Dungeness crab to my oyster repertoire. The location in Pioneer Square has more food options, including a fried oyster po’ boy. I would suggest trying them all. And even if there is an R in the month, you can still count on oysters at Taylor’s Seafood Farms.
When I think of oysters in literature, one of my favorite passages is from Anna Karenina where Levin dines with Oblonsky. The sheer joy of sharing a wonderful repast, even if with a somewhat distracted country cousin, has stayed with me all these years. But, perhaps more to the point and not requiring as much context:
“As I ate the oysters with their strong taste of the sea and their faint metallic taste that the cold white wine washed away, leaving only the sea taste and the succulent texture, and as I drank their cold liquid from each shell and washed it down with the crisp taste of the wine, I lost the empty feeling and began to be happy and to make plans.
Port Townsend, Washington via Huntsville, Alabama : The Serendipity of Travel
The van was ready to go. I sat in the first row of seats. There were two other rows behind me that quickly filled with people heading for the Huntsville airport.
As people deposited their bags at the back of the van, they clamored in and found a seat on one of the three benches. After a week at a bloggers conference, I was a bit more gregarious than usual. I greeted everyone as they entered the van and asked where they are from.
Paris.
Georgia.
Port Townsend in Washington State.
“I am going to be in Seattle this summer,” I replied.
“Here is my card,” the woman replied. “I’m Kathy. I’m moving to Portugal, but I’ll be in Port Townsend for the summer.”
I filed away the card, not knowing if I’d follow through, or if our calendars would coincide.
For a while, a rendezvous was hit and miss. Kathy was in Europe. Then a death in her family. I was traveling. Then housesitting.
From Magnolia-Seattle-Bainbridge-Port Townsend
But finally we connected. And I made arrangements to visit this small town on the tip of a peninsula in the Pacific Northwest.
Small towns are interesting cultural experiences. From the outside looking in, they may look picture perfect. Port Townsend is certainly in the running for this award.
I met Kathy outside of the Quimper Mercantile Company. Then we set set off on a tour of the town, and each step was a treat and a retreat into history. Kathy has lived here for quite some time, and she knows every nook and cranny of town, as well as its history and the people that keep it all so vibrant and alive.
Quimper Mercantile Exchange
Take Quimper Mercantile Company. It’s a community owned store with over 840 community investors. The store is built on sustainability , although it’s also managed to turn a profit.
The store opened in October 2012, replacing Swain’s Outdoor which closed in early 2011. Local residents saw the need for a store that sold day to day goods not readily available without going to a distant mall. So Quimper Mercantile Company was founded. It provides basic clothes, toys, birthday presents, housewares and any number of items that when you need it, you need it now! Plus it’s an integral part of this closely woven community, many of whom choose to support the venture and shop local. And it’s expanding.
This was the starting point for our tour and our conversation, which ranged from teaching English in Spain, to the ins and outs of moving to Portugal, to traveling the world.
A stroll down the street brings forth stories and memories about Kathy and her family’s numerous entrepreneurial endeavors, which include a travel website (www.milesgeek.com), a former yarnshop and antique shop, two local bookstores run by her son, and much more. Block after block, she shares a tale of the city, it’s people and it’s future. all intertwined with a bit of her past as well.
Summers in Port Townsend are packed full of goings on, just as in Seattle. There are many highly regarded festivals and events in this small town including Fiddle Tunes, Writers Conferences, Concerts, a Jazz Festival and much more.
The Port Townsend Film Festival , held September 15, 16 and 17th this year, is truly remarkable, particularly given the size and location of Port Townsend (population: 9113). Over 300 volunteers make this annual celebration possible. The festival was founded in 1999 by four film buffs who met annually at Telluride and decided they would create a film festival closer to home. They succeeded. Seventeen years later, over 90 films are screened in seven venues. And numerous notables have graced the walkways of this particular film festival.
Bruce Dern was honored in 2012. He mentioned that his time spent in Port Townsend gave him the insight he needed to create the acclaimed character of Willy Grant.
“What did I know of small towns?” he asked, as Kathy relays the story. “The three days I spent here, submersed in this environment, allowed me to create that character.” True or not it speaks to the graciousness that Port Townsend seems to bring out in people.
The film, Nebraska, directed by Woody Allen, was released in 2013. It’s the story of a small town’s reactions to Dern’s character, Woody Grant, who wins a million dollar lottery.
Port Townsend’s claim to fame extends to some other films, like this fight scene from An Officer and A Gentleman, which was filmed in Port Townsend, outside a (former) popular bar. The bar was something of a local landmark and it lives on in this film.
Part of the bar’s unique history is that it provided rooming upstairs for many of the young people who worked there. To this day, reunions bring together people from that era to share some of their own Port Townsend histories.
The Rose Theatre
The local film festival is remarkable, not just for its history, but because it reflects the deep artistic and cinematic roots of the town. The Rose Theatre, located at 235 Taylor St., offers a curated line up of of world class theatre, including moves, plays, ballets and operas. The building opened in 1907 as a vaudeville theatre. Today, its eclectic mix of film and other performances are often accompanied by one on one question and answer sessions with people connected to the performance.
The movie line up is spectacular, and includes everything from summer time classics such as Jaws to The Hero, an official selection of the 2017 Sundance Film Festival, which caught my eye. I hadn’t heard of it. It stars Sam Elliot. Critics have said that this is a career defining role for the actor.
From IMdb:
“The legendary Sam Elliott stars as an aging actor confronting mortality in the moving new film….THE HERO is a beautiful and poignant celebration of life and the legacies we all leave behind.”
This and dozens of other films, old and new, are offered through this gem of a theatre that, among other little luxuries, offers real buttered, freshly popped popcorn. The experience of Rose Theatre is just one example of what makes Port Townsend so rich and so unique. This theatre is a remarkable experience for anyplace, and it’s one of the cultural and historic icons that makes this town so special to so many.
If you have the good fortune to find yourself in Port Townsend for a show, be sure to put it on your agenda. Or better yet, start your agenda with the Rose Theatre.
Port Townsend
Block for block, Port Townsend reveals itself through Kathy’s eyes and memories. She recalls how the beach used to be wide open at the end of town; how the new center brings new life to this part of town; stories of the former cannery at the end of a wharf (and the story of the delivery truck that fell through the wooden planking into the water); how owning two bookstores (her son’s) in town offers increased versatility for their ever expanding literary collections.
I am barely scratching the surface of this remarkable town, but I hope you’ll put it on your Pacific Northwest calendar. Even without Kathy as a guide, the charm and character of the town resonates in its shops, events, and most of all, in its people.
Returning to Seattle
Heading back to Magnolia, I pass through Bainbridge en route back to Seattle. It is a return to the modern world, Puget Sound island style. I am late for the ferry I had hoped to make; early for the next one. I sit and wait.
The morning commute to Seattle
Eventually the ferry approaches and docks. Hundreds of bicyclists, wearing brightly colored jerseys and form fitting black shorts, with knapsacks strung to their backs, complete their daily commutes. It is a world removed from Port Townsend.
Cars leave the boat, ferrying their owners for an evening at home; and as I board the ferry, the day recedes.
Except for a very warm feeling of a very special place that I will have to revisit. Thank you Kathy for sitting behind me on that van to the airport however many months ago.
Inspiration, joy & discovery through travel. Oh, did I mention with supposedly incurable cancer?
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CancerRoadTrip is about making lemonade out of lemons.
As you read my story, you may want to start at the beginning to "grok" how CancerRoadTrip came to be. You can click here to start at the end (which is actually the beginning) and read forward! The posts are chronological, with the most recent posts appearing on the front page.
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bookstores (her son’s) in town offers increased versatility for their ever expanding literary collections.
