Oops… I was off by a Sunday. In last weeks write up I said this weekend was our big trip, I meant the weekend after next. This past weekend Dave was at a regatta with the UPS crew team in Sacramento, CA. His team, the freshman four boat, beat the junior varsity four boat that beat them in the last race. That was the team from the school that won Puget Sounds division two weeks earlier. In total, Dave's boat placed 8th out of 18th against numerous division 1 and 2 boats. Also the men’s varsity four boat took first place overall, beating out all of the division 1 and 2 team’s best four rowers. This coming weekend will hopefully be a great one, and we hope to have enough free time to do an all-dayer.
Regards and thanks for reading,
Eric
PS: Dave and I both are learning to sail by crewing sailboats every Wednesday at the sailboat races at Tyee Marina. The sailing fantasy started and grew through our first five or six Sunday trips till we managed to get on a boat for the first time two Wednesdays ago thanks to a man by the name of Dave. I am hoping to start up another blog titled sailingwithdaveanderic.blogspot.com at some point in the future when I have some freetime.
Also, we would love to hear any of your ideas on new or unique places to go on our Sunday adventures.
Thanks again!
Monday, April 30, 2007
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
A short, but pleasant Sunday
This Sunday we drove along the water for a while and explored the secret neighborhoods hidden on dead ended streets along the water. Some were very interesting with unique architecture. Some were "unique" with that elegant 50's architecture, you know the ranch houses that are brick or stone facade on the bottom half and painted wood shingling on the top half. Got a weird feeling driving through those few blocks: a little bit of time travel.
When crossing the Narrows Bridge I spotted a set of train tracks running along the water under a cliff and a tunnel. Close to the tunnel there was a row of houses on the 40 or so feet between the water and the cliff. Dave suggested we check that out on a future Sunday and I agreed. After that we went to our usual and very peaceful spot in Gig Harbor, had cinnamon buns, and examined maps of Washington (for trips before the end of school) and Colorado (for a Sunday to Sunday road trip we will take this summer).
Hope to have a big trip this Sunday, we'll see how much work we've both got.
Thanks for reading,
Eric
When crossing the Narrows Bridge I spotted a set of train tracks running along the water under a cliff and a tunnel. Close to the tunnel there was a row of houses on the 40 or so feet between the water and the cliff. Dave suggested we check that out on a future Sunday and I agreed. After that we went to our usual and very peaceful spot in Gig Harbor, had cinnamon buns, and examined maps of Washington (for trips before the end of school) and Colorado (for a Sunday to Sunday road trip we will take this summer).
Hope to have a big trip this Sunday, we'll see how much work we've both got.
Thanks for reading,
Eric
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Good conversation, good views, and a perfect birthday gift.
I called Eric on the telephone at 9 on Sunday morning. I clearly had waked him up but he didn’t care. He groggily said he’d be ready shortly. As I waited for Eric I looked at a map of Washington, pondering our destination. The options were endless. We had ventured to Dash Point and Gig Harbor on some of our previous Sundays but today I was feeling a little more adventurous. Seattle via back roads? Or shell out the cash to take the ferry to Vashon? Olympia perhaps? I couldn’t make up my mind. Eric would have to be consulted. After a time Eric knocked on my door looking rather disheveled. He had just rolled out of bed but he looked eager to get going.
As we drove out of campus we discussed our options. Without even thinking of why, I said “What about Port Townsend?” I knew only that it was supposed to be a pleasant place and that it was at least an hour drive. I felt like taking a good drive and Eric was up for a longer trip. I handed him the map to figure out how to get there. We picked our route, Highway 16 to 3 to 19 to 20 if I recall, and we were going. It was a perfect day to get away.
The beautiful thing about exploring with Eric is that life instantly becomes simple. Any preoccupations disappeared as we crossed the Tacoma Narrows Bridge. By the time we make the Gig Harbor exit, the stereo is off and we are deep in conversation. We talk about everything from our grand plans of acquiring a sailboat in the next academic year to the fundamentals of human experience to religion. We both agreed the drive was a perfect way to use a Sunday morning.
When we arrived we both needed food. We cruised the quaint main drag and a restaurant called the Lighthouse Café caught our eye. We parked the car and went in to check it out. It reminded me of my grandmothers’ basement. The place was cluttered with bizarre decorations like little glass trees and faux-indian hatchets. They all had price tags but I had a feeling they were rarely purchased. We got our food to go and ate at a picnic table on the water. The burger and chowder was fairly generic but that’s exactly what I was in the mood for.
After lunch we wandered down to the pier. The air was cool but the sun felt warm on my neck. I stared out across the water and thought of my siblings. Knowing that this was the same ocean my sister saw every day on her commute to work in New York and that this was the same ocean my brother saw from his apartment window in Morocco was very comforting. As someone who comes from a landlocked state, the ocean is still absolutely fascinating to me. We lingered on the pier for some time watching sailboats silently glide across the glassy water.
Eric had spied some watchtower to investigate sometime in our wandering. I decided that I would search for a birthday present for my girlfriend Elizabeth while he went to check it out. While I shopped I thought of Elizabeth and I pondered why I was lucky enough to be with such a tolerant, understanding and kind person. I always feel a lot of pressure to get good gifts, especially for someone like Elizabeth. It needed to be something practical yet unique. I went back to check out all of the strange items for sale in the café but nothing seemed to fit. I finally wandered into an outdoor store and found what I hoped would be the perfect gift. It was a vintage Patagonia fleece that was a sort of day-glow pink. Most people would think it was heinous however my outdoorsy-chic girlfriend would love it (hopefully). With that I went to locate Eric.
I moseyed up the hill towards his tower and looked out over the tops of the buildings and Puget Sound. It was an extraordinary sight. It didn’t surprise me when I found Eric chatting up a random homeowner who was in the middle of mowing their lawn. Eric seemed to have a genuine love of humanity and got to know as many people as possible no matter what situation he found himself in. I walked up and a kind woman named Linda introduced herself. She was the president of the historical society in the area and she gave us a brief rundown of the history of the area as well as a few tips of sights to see around the town. Not wanting to take too much of her time we thanked her and moved on with far more ideas of things to see than we could possibly fit into our day.
After some time exploring the time came to return to Tacoma. It had been another perfect day with another perfect destination. Eric and I walked back to the car and discussed what we had missed and what to explore the next time we were in town. We took off to go back to our lives at school. As my friend Eric slept beside me on the drive back I looked out over the green pastures and knew that I had yet another perfect Sunday.
As we drove out of campus we discussed our options. Without even thinking of why, I said “What about Port Townsend?” I knew only that it was supposed to be a pleasant place and that it was at least an hour drive. I felt like taking a good drive and Eric was up for a longer trip. I handed him the map to figure out how to get there. We picked our route, Highway 16 to 3 to 19 to 20 if I recall, and we were going. It was a perfect day to get away.
The beautiful thing about exploring with Eric is that life instantly becomes simple. Any preoccupations disappeared as we crossed the Tacoma Narrows Bridge. By the time we make the Gig Harbor exit, the stereo is off and we are deep in conversation. We talk about everything from our grand plans of acquiring a sailboat in the next academic year to the fundamentals of human experience to religion. We both agreed the drive was a perfect way to use a Sunday morning.
When we arrived we both needed food. We cruised the quaint main drag and a restaurant called the Lighthouse Café caught our eye. We parked the car and went in to check it out. It reminded me of my grandmothers’ basement. The place was cluttered with bizarre decorations like little glass trees and faux-indian hatchets. They all had price tags but I had a feeling they were rarely purchased. We got our food to go and ate at a picnic table on the water. The burger and chowder was fairly generic but that’s exactly what I was in the mood for.
After lunch we wandered down to the pier. The air was cool but the sun felt warm on my neck. I stared out across the water and thought of my siblings. Knowing that this was the same ocean my sister saw every day on her commute to work in New York and that this was the same ocean my brother saw from his apartment window in Morocco was very comforting. As someone who comes from a landlocked state, the ocean is still absolutely fascinating to me. We lingered on the pier for some time watching sailboats silently glide across the glassy water.
Eric had spied some watchtower to investigate sometime in our wandering. I decided that I would search for a birthday present for my girlfriend Elizabeth while he went to check it out. While I shopped I thought of Elizabeth and I pondered why I was lucky enough to be with such a tolerant, understanding and kind person. I always feel a lot of pressure to get good gifts, especially for someone like Elizabeth. It needed to be something practical yet unique. I went back to check out all of the strange items for sale in the café but nothing seemed to fit. I finally wandered into an outdoor store and found what I hoped would be the perfect gift. It was a vintage Patagonia fleece that was a sort of day-glow pink. Most people would think it was heinous however my outdoorsy-chic girlfriend would love it (hopefully). With that I went to locate Eric.
I moseyed up the hill towards his tower and looked out over the tops of the buildings and Puget Sound. It was an extraordinary sight. It didn’t surprise me when I found Eric chatting up a random homeowner who was in the middle of mowing their lawn. Eric seemed to have a genuine love of humanity and got to know as many people as possible no matter what situation he found himself in. I walked up and a kind woman named Linda introduced herself. She was the president of the historical society in the area and she gave us a brief rundown of the history of the area as well as a few tips of sights to see around the town. Not wanting to take too much of her time we thanked her and moved on with far more ideas of things to see than we could possibly fit into our day.
After some time exploring the time came to return to Tacoma. It had been another perfect day with another perfect destination. Eric and I walked back to the car and discussed what we had missed and what to explore the next time we were in town. We took off to go back to our lives at school. As my friend Eric slept beside me on the drive back I looked out over the green pastures and knew that I had yet another perfect Sunday.
Port Townsend
Quite typically we started out our day not knowing a destination. We had some ideas: try to drive to Seattle using only back roads and see what we might run across or travel to Vashon Island. But we didn’t decide till we were driving…
“Do you want to go to Port Townsend?”
“Okay” I replied. I didn’t know what Port Townsend was, where it was, or why it would be interesting, but the word “port” implied it would be near water, and I felt content exploring somewhere near water.
“God, it’s so beautiful” Dave repeated as we drove through a lush valley on the way up, “I could live here” he said. It reminded Dave of his trip to Ireland. It reminded me of my trip to Wales. This was the trip where my parents and I extended our stay in Wales by three days rather than returning to London for the last three days of the trip. It really was beautiful, and that’s why we stayed.
Dave and I talked life for nearly the entire drive up, concluding in a discussion about gender that men and women are so different in how they think that it is silly for them to be discussed so frequently in perfectly equal terms. Women seem to understand emotions and relationships much better than guys, but, because they are so efficient at reading and reacting on an emotional level, at least to guys, seem to use less hard logic in their thought processes.
While Dave searched for a present for his girlfriend Liz, a beautiful girl that is in line very much with what was discussed about gender above, I decided to explore a little. I saw a bell tower on the top of a bluff a ways up and decided to check it out. It wasn’t a straight shot and forced me to tour through a neighborhood. Walking down the streets I saw houses with really interesting and unique architecture. Then, following the street, come to an opening where I expected to see the bell tower. Instead there was an amazing house and an equally amazing view. I was attracted to both and my curiosity brought me walking toward into the yard toward the fence overlooking the water.
I stopped about 20 feet from the fence when I saw a woman mowing the lawn behind the house. She smiled and let the lawnmower die.
“[Referring to the wet grass] If you don’t mind your shoes getting a little wet, walk out to the fence and take a look” I smiled and approached the fence. She mowed for a little longer and I absorbed the view. She let the lawnmower die again and asked where I was from. I explained myself and we started talking. Her name was Linda and she was the President of the Jefferson County Historical Society (how lucky was that!).
In fact, her house, which I inquired about immediately, was built in 1883 and is on the national register for historic places. She also explained a bit of the town’s history. In around 1893 it was the second biggest port in the United States, second only to that of New York City. They planned to build a railroad there that would connect it inland more but steam power on ships became popularized and allowed the ships to make it through to Seattle. She highlighted this as the reason the city was so well preserved in its historical state: Industry was kicked up and then the lights were “turned out” on Port Townsend when it lost its use as a major port.
I think the age and preservation of the town was what was most attractive to us. I remarked many times that I love old industrial buildings in which you can see the painted advertisements on the sides in huge faded bold lettering. I find a great deal of comfort in things that have survived years of weather and use. This might be why I suggested we jump into an antique store we passed on our way to the old City Hall, as recommended by Linda. The store appeared small from the outside but once inside, it appeared to go on forever. There were all sorts of hidden rooms in the store floor full of furniture. One set was supposed to have been owned by a member of the Backstreet Boys as a friendly, yet very salesman-like man explained to us. He seemed to enjoy his job though, and you could tell he was not feigning excitement about many of the store’s ancient treasures. One of these was a three-foot long model ship selling for $3,500 that was made entirely out of cloves. Its black skeletal nature emitted a sense of death like a bright flower radiates life.
After the antique store we visited the City Hall, which was very nicely redone. It still had the original impressively high ceilings (I estimated 18feet). We walked out and as we wandered toward are next destination. On our way Dave brought up the fact that there were few kids having fun in the down by the water. We wondered why. We ended up at water and stood next to an enormous log carved into two benches and some sea turtles. The way the water laid between shallow bluffs reminded me of Missouri and the river towns surrounding St. Louis. Every fall my grandparents, parents and I would go through them on the way to pick apples and every time I would stop to get home made ice cream from an ice cream parlor in the town. As we walked, we came upon a young and very excited looking policeman. His eyes were wide and a huge smile rested upon his soft jaw-line.
“Do you know where I can get some home made ice cream?” I asked him. He gave us directions. I thought ice cream would be a good way to conclude another great Sunday with Dave. And it was.
“Do you want to go to Port Townsend?”
“Okay” I replied. I didn’t know what Port Townsend was, where it was, or why it would be interesting, but the word “port” implied it would be near water, and I felt content exploring somewhere near water.
“God, it’s so beautiful” Dave repeated as we drove through a lush valley on the way up, “I could live here” he said. It reminded Dave of his trip to Ireland. It reminded me of my trip to Wales. This was the trip where my parents and I extended our stay in Wales by three days rather than returning to London for the last three days of the trip. It really was beautiful, and that’s why we stayed.
Dave and I talked life for nearly the entire drive up, concluding in a discussion about gender that men and women are so different in how they think that it is silly for them to be discussed so frequently in perfectly equal terms. Women seem to understand emotions and relationships much better than guys, but, because they are so efficient at reading and reacting on an emotional level, at least to guys, seem to use less hard logic in their thought processes.
While Dave searched for a present for his girlfriend Liz, a beautiful girl that is in line very much with what was discussed about gender above, I decided to explore a little. I saw a bell tower on the top of a bluff a ways up and decided to check it out. It wasn’t a straight shot and forced me to tour through a neighborhood. Walking down the streets I saw houses with really interesting and unique architecture. Then, following the street, come to an opening where I expected to see the bell tower. Instead there was an amazing house and an equally amazing view. I was attracted to both and my curiosity brought me walking toward into the yard toward the fence overlooking the water.
I stopped about 20 feet from the fence when I saw a woman mowing the lawn behind the house. She smiled and let the lawnmower die.
“[Referring to the wet grass] If you don’t mind your shoes getting a little wet, walk out to the fence and take a look” I smiled and approached the fence. She mowed for a little longer and I absorbed the view. She let the lawnmower die again and asked where I was from. I explained myself and we started talking. Her name was Linda and she was the President of the Jefferson County Historical Society (how lucky was that!).
In fact, her house, which I inquired about immediately, was built in 1883 and is on the national register for historic places. She also explained a bit of the town’s history. In around 1893 it was the second biggest port in the United States, second only to that of New York City. They planned to build a railroad there that would connect it inland more but steam power on ships became popularized and allowed the ships to make it through to Seattle. She highlighted this as the reason the city was so well preserved in its historical state: Industry was kicked up and then the lights were “turned out” on Port Townsend when it lost its use as a major port.I think the age and preservation of the town was what was most attractive to us. I remarked many times that I love old industrial buildings in which you can see the painted advertisements on the sides in huge faded bold lettering. I find a great deal of comfort in things that have survived years of weather and use. This might be why I suggested we jump into an antique store we passed on our way to the old City Hall, as recommended by Linda. The store appeared small from the outside but once inside, it appeared to go on forever. There were all sorts of hidden rooms in the store floor full of furniture. One set was supposed to have been owned by a member of the Backstreet Boys as a friendly, yet very salesman-like man explained to us. He seemed to enjoy his job though, and you could tell he was not feigning excitement about many of the store’s ancient treasures. One of these was a three-foot long model ship selling for $3,500 that was made entirely out of cloves. Its black skeletal nature emitted a sense of death like a bright flower radiates life.
After the antique store we visited the City Hall, which was very nicely redone. It still had the original impressively high ceilings (I estimated 18feet). We walked out and as we wandered toward are next destination. On our way Dave brought up the fact that there were few kids having fun in the down by the water. We wondered why. We ended up at water and stood next to an enormous log carved into two benches and some sea turtles. The way the water laid between shallow bluffs reminded me of Missouri and the river towns surrounding St. Louis. Every fall my grandparents, parents and I would go through them on the way to pick apples and every time I would stop to get home made ice cream from an ice cream parlor in the town. As we walked, we came upon a young and very excited looking policeman. His eyes were wide and a huge smile rested upon his soft jaw-line.
“Do you know where I can get some home made ice cream?” I asked him. He gave us directions. I thought ice cream would be a good way to conclude another great Sunday with Dave. And it was.
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