Mount St. Helens

Today’s adventure was a drive from Seattle to Portland, stopping along the way at Mount St. Helens. I was only a child when Mount St. Helens blew in 1980, but I remember it happening, as well as how excited I was when someone gave me a vial of volcanic ash from the mountain. So it was great to see the majestic peak decades later, when the growth has reappeared and it is only the before and after photos in the visitor’s center that really capture the horror and magnitude.

We took I-5 south from Seattle. I expected a dull, wide grey freeway. But the scenery was surprisingly beautiful, often lined with trees, with views of farmland, cows, forested hills and mountains. True to what John told us, the traffic moved slowly, going 65 miles per hour, even in the fast lane. We saw several bumper stickers of people with unique characters, such as “I don’t have an attitude problem, you’re just an asshole.” Or “It’s your hell – burn in it,” from a Wiccan driver with a young boy in a carseat.

When we reached Mount St. Helens, about two hours from Seattle, we stopped in the nearby town of Castle Rock. We thought we might find something to eat there. But instead we found a sad, dilapidated little community. We later found out that several of the houses there were carried away by the river flush with volcanic debris. One woman described seeing her house picked up by the river, carried upright, then crushed as it went under a bridge and came out the other side in pieces. It makes me wonder what keeps people there. One young woman told me, “It’s because we love this place.”

The visitor’s center showed a short film about the volcano as well as a helpful display. Nearby was a one mile trail along a lake created by the eruption and we walked that, enjoying beautiful views of the snowy peak across the water.

We then drove up toward the volcano, receiving increasingly beautiful views as we became closer. Much of the land is owned by either the National Park or by Weyehauser logging company. Entire hillsides had been stripped of trees and Weyerhauser replanted them with Douglas and noble firs, resulting in whole swathes of green trees of exactly the same size. At the viewpoints, we looked down at rivers with banks still coated with grey volcanic silt. We could only go up so far because the road was closed partway up due to snow. It would be nice to return in summer and climb the mountain itself. But we enjoyed the beautiful drive.

In the evening we arrived in Portland, where we are staying with an old and dear friend, Lisa. She and her husband live in a small, cozy house. The walls are painted mustard, rust, green and brown comfortingly warm and bright at the same time. We chatted about life in Portland, a city they have “fallen in love with,” to such an extent they would not leave to pursue professional opportunities elsewhere.

They told us about the strong bicycle culture, about the incredible recreational activities nearby, about the affordability and the niceness of the local people. The downsides seem to be below average schools (they described this as a result of the low tax, low government services culture) and not a lot of higher education opportunities. They themselves lead a quality of life that I admire and envy. They are home every day by five, grow vegetables in their garden, eat farm fresh eggs, use all natural products, and eat very healthy foods. They have a balance and evidence a contentment with life that I think is ideal.

Tomorrow we’ll explore this place for ourselves.

Seattle Neighborhoods

We were told by some friends that the life in Seattle is concentrated in the neighborhoods, a series of urban villages. So today we used our rental car to drive around and explore them.

We started out in the Ballard area, a former shipyard and worker area with a Scandinavian heritage that is now becoming more gentrified. The narrow streets were lined with Craftsman bungalows, modest and attractive little houses in a variety of colors. We saw these small homes throughout the city and I liked them a lot.

We then spent some time exploring Green Lake, a beautiful lake surrounded by a walking/biking path. Looking out over the calm waters lined with the bare yellow branches of willow trees, I immediately loved that area. It reminded me so much of the lakes in Minneapolis. Even the street was the same – Woodlawn Avenue instead of Woodlawn Boulevard. And there was a Baskin Robbins nearby, just as there was in Minnesota.

After lunch we walked the 2.8 mile loop around the lake. The path was packed with people strolling, biking, skateboarding, skating, walking dogs, pushing strollers, carrying babies in pouches and sacks. This was in the middle of a Tuesday afternoon. I imagined it must really get packed on weekends.

While walking around the lake, I noticed there wasn’t much diversity, with the overwhelming majority Caucasian. I thought it was just the neighborhood, but a friend who had us over for dinner that evening said the city as a whole is not very diverse. The main immigrants were Asians and they have been here a long time already. Another person I met today told me that the demand for childcare is much higher than the supply. So I wonder why this city doesn’t attract more Hispanics or other immigrants.

We then drove through the bohemian neighborhood of Fremont and the upscale neighborhood of Queen Anne before joining a friend and his partner for dinner in their Eastlake townhouse, on the east side of Union Lake.

Bob and Eric have been living in Seattle for a few years and they were able to tell us about the local culture. They told us how the slower pace of life extends even to the freeways, where people will always let others in and the speed rarely exceeds 65 miles per hour, even in the fast lane. They told us about the opinionated, liberal population, how “hell would freeze over” before a Republican would be elected mayor, how all the city council members were elected at large. They told us how this made for lively debate, but in difficulty making decisions. How when a water tower was planned to be constructed in one neighborhood, everyone had an opinion about the size, color, and style. Since all were at large, it wasn’t possible to just defer to the person representing that neighborhood, but instead consensus had to be achieved on all the minor issues.

The film Sicko made the observation that Americans are a passive electorate because they are too afraid of losing their jobs, security, etc. to speak up. It seems that Seattle is an exception, an example of a community where people speak up, debate, and seek compromise. It may take longer and be messier, but maybe knowing their voice is heard contributes to the fact that they seem happier and friendlier than people in many other areas of this country.

Seattle

Twenty four hours after arriving in Seattle we are liking our first impressions. We took a bus from our hotel in the university district to the downtown area. The bus was clean and arrived on schedule. Unlike at home, where it seems it’s mostly the down-and-out that use the buses, here the bus attracted a variety of people – a pair of elderly women, a man reading a newspaper, a young, professional-looking woman, the heavyset women in baggy clothes who carried a radio and told us “I can’t help what songs they play on the radio.”

We immediately noticed the solar power traffic meters and the electric buses, signs of environmental consciousness. A large black billboard announced “babies are born to be breastfed” and baby slings appeared to be just as popular as strollers, indicating a propensity toward attachment parenting. Looking out the window I saw the blue of water, as well as boats and ships with their rigging. There was the maritime aspect. And looking out across the water I saw the snow-capped peaks of the Olympia mountains. I don’t think I’ve ever seen snow-capped peaks in the US and I loved it. It brought me back to Bishkek, where the views of the peaks on my way to work raised my spirits. Only here there are beautiful views of water as well.

We got off the bus downtown and headed to Pike’s market, the busy, roiling farmer’s market near the waterfront. It was gorgeous. Stands of fruits and vegetables glistened in all colors of the rainbow. Fresh seafood – scallops as large as hockey pucks, crab legs as long as my lower arm, white fish cheeks, and other items recently pulled from the ocean – sat piled under chunks of ice, waiting to be enjoyed on dinner plates. There were bunches of tulips in bright spring colors, bouquets of dried flowers, tart and sweet dried cherries (I didn’t know Washington was the world’s leading cherry producer), gourmet pastas (think dark chocolate pasta, or porcini mushroom, or sweet potato orzo) and dipping oils (white truffle – yum!), jams, honeys, blueberry syrup and vinegar, homemade goat cheese, artisan baked goods, and even a shop that made cheese on the premises in a giant vat surrounded by curious onlookers.

Unlike the Trenton farmers market, where I once heard a vendor respond to a customer’s inquiry asking what the yellow melon was by saying curtly “yellow watermelon,” here friendliness rang through the air. Musicians played Andean music or upbeat tunes, vendors handed out samples or described their goods with a smile. People stopped to admire our baby, to ask his name or his age.

We noticed the friendliness of the people here immediately upon arrival. Our first stop out of the airport was the Thrifty car rental office. The two employees behind the counter were so kind – giving us an upgrade, offering us a map, suggesting places to see along the Oregon coast, answering our questions, helping us put in the car seat. Even the woman in the booth, spending her Saturday evening in a chilly parking lot, greeted us with a smile as she collected our papers.

We ate lunch at a seafood diner on the waterfront. We were seated at the bar, where we watched the cooks at work. The waitstaff worked as a team, helping each other out. And the cooks worked quickly, efficiently, and seemed both happy and professional, I had the feeling that people seem content to be in their positions. I later heard that people have pretty balanced lives here, that it’s uncommon to work extremely long hours, that most people enjoy themselves on their days off. So perhaps their job is just one part of an overall fulfilling life. Since it doesn’t consume them, they can enjoy it more.

After lunch we walked along the shoreline, past a sculpture garden and to the space needle. We ascended to the top in a 41 second elevator ride, traveling at ten miles per hour. With the wonderful weather, we had an excellent view of the city. Walking in a circle along the observation deck, we looked out over the Olympic peaks, Mt. Baker, and the imposing Mt. Rainier. We watched boats traveling over water and seaplanes taking off and landing.

From there, we took a short and pleasant ride on the Monorail, constructed for the World’s Fair, back to the downtown area. We met some local friends for dinner at a trendy fish restaurant, where the fish surprisingly came from everywhere other than Washington.

They told us that in Seattle, much of the life is in the neighborhoods outside of downtown and suggested we explore those areas. The downtown area did clear out by the time we walked to dinner at shortly before six, and almost felt uncomfortable. So we have lots to see and do in our remaining two days.

The city itself isn’t the most beautiful one I’ve seen (for example, I think downtown Minneapolis is a prettier place) however the life and culture are very attractive here at first glance. I overhead one man on his cellphone calling to tell someone he’d arrived here safely and is having a good time. “Washington DC and Baltimore are looking worse every minute I’m here,” he said. Seattle cast its spell on another visitor besides us.

Arrival in Seattle

We arrived in Seattle late last night after a pleasant direct flight on Continental. The middle seat in between us was open, so we were able to put River’s carseat there and had sufficient room.

Our first stop was the rental car agency. They wanted to upgrade us to a minivan or SUV. Initially I wasn’t interested, but then we figured that the four wheel drive would be useful on the mountain roads. I’m trying to think of that to ameliorate my guilt at using such a low mileage vehicle on the city and coastal roads. It’s very spacious though, which will be comfortable for us during our two week trip down to San Francisco.

We used Mark’s new GPS to get from the airport to our hotel and it took us reliably there. We drive right through the city, a beautiful glomeration of yellow lights with a bright blue dome and flashes of red and green. It looked to me like a toy city, or a cake topping. I thought it was beautiful.

The freeway was a dull grey four-laner, but the rises and falls were surprising to me. I guess I’ve never been in a mountainous highly developed city. That reminded me of the new landscape to explore and made me excited about the adventures to come in the upcoming days and weeks.

Our hotel, the University Motel, is located near the University of Washington, in a neighborhood that seemed a little sketchy at night. Our room brings back college days, ancient furniture, flimsy cabinets, cheap construction. But it’s a suite, with plenty of space (and 3 beds, as well as a kitchen) so it meets our needs well.

Almost on the Road

Tomorrow we leave for a 3.5 week trip. Our itinerary includes Seattle, a drive down the West Coast through Portland and San Francisco, Morelia and Guadalajara Mexico, and Chicago. It’s my first big trip since returning from Bolivia last September. And it’s our first experience flying with River. We’re attempting to inaugurate him into world adventures and are crossing our fingers that he accepts it with enthusiasm.

I’m so excited to get on the airplane, to see the new scenery, to sleep in various hotels, to try new restaurants and cuisine every day, to reunite with old friends and to meet new people, to speak Spanish and to learn. Nine weeks and six days after childbirth, I’m ready to hit the road and to resume my travels.