Category Archives: Living in the Pacific Northwest

Living in the Pacific Northwest

Meps and Barry, Home Phone

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Well, we did it again. Back in the summer of 2002, we started shopping for a cell phone to use once we moved out of our house on Lynn Street. I did most of the searching, comparing prices, trying to puzzle out plans, asking people if they liked their phones and/or had good coverage, etc. Eventually we decided it was too expensive and that we weren’t going to bother. We just moved our land-line to the next home, and then went phone-less when we moved out.

Fast forward to November of 2004. Now we need a phone again, and we went shopping AGAIN. It was still a pain in the butt. The short version of the story is that if you want to use your phone to browse the web with the computer, you now need a separate data plan which will give you limited use of almost dialup speeds at a well over broadband prices. So we make the same decision as last time.

As of next Tuesday, the 7th, we’ll again have a phone. The number will be (206) 322-1664. And until then we’re staying in our house at 1112 E. Lynn Street, in Seattle, so you can just drop in if you are in the neighborhood. We’re pretty sure we’ll be here a month or two.

I guess we’re just incredible cheapskates or Luddites or something after all. But somehow paying around $170/month seems just too much. When we move onto a boat we’ll have to re-consider again since a land line will be impossible then. For now, we just can’t stomach the expense.

Family Tales, Friends Along the Way, Living in the Pacific Northwest

Ghost Dancers

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I’m sitting in a cozy warm house on Camano Island, a cup of tea beside me. To my right, the view is blue, looking across the shallow misty waters of Port Susan to the distant Cascade Mountains. To my left, the view is green, a broad expanse of lawn leading to woods, framed by towering evergreens.

This scenery is the best of the Puget Sound area, and one reason why we returned home.

In a little while, we’ll be meeting a very good friend for lunch. The whole year we were traveling, I missed our friends, people we met sailing or dancing or working. Last night, at a meeting of the Puget Sound Cruising Club, I collected hugs from many friends who welcomed us back to the area.

That’s another key reason why we returned.

I’m looking forward to Tuesday, when Barry’s parents, who own this delightful Eden where we are housesitting, return from Hawaii. Their home, where we have stored most of our worldly goods, is full of photos of Barry’s nephews, family artwork, cozy furniture, and support for this crazy lifestyle we’ve chosen. We love hanging out with Sharon and Dave, talking and taking walks in the woods.

Living near them is another reason to come back.

When we arrived a couple of weeks ago, we were bone-weary, exhausted from the long drive across the northern part of the country. We had been moving too fast, trying to see too much, having a hard time staying ahead of the cold weather. We also wanted to make it back in time to celebrate Barry’s Dad’s birthday.

A couple of days after our return, Dave called us all out on the front deck. It was late, and very dark. But the sky was lit with the most amazing thing I’d ever seen: Aurora Borealis, the Northern Lights. Since the four of us had moved to the Northwest, we’d never seen it; I’d never seen it in my life. Barry wisely suggested that we watch it from the hot tub.

We laid our heads back and watched the beautiful moving light show. Soft white streaks, sometimes with a hint of color, appearing and disappearing, with a strange ghostly rhythm. I was reminded of the name the native people gave the phenomenon: Ghost Dancers. It was silent, and then a shiver went down my spine as an owl hooted in the woods.

This was our reward. A true welcome home, from the Ghost Dancers.

Family Tales, Living in the Pacific Northwest, Living on a Boat, Philosophy

Visiting Home

A week or so ago, I sat alone in the hot tub in Barry’s parents’ backyard. A silvery bright half moon shone over the black silhouettes of towering conifers. The only sounds were the soft gurgle of the water and a chorus of distant frogs. I relaxed completely, leaning my head back and wondering about this strange concept of “visiting home.”

To Brian, Cayenne is truly a home where he has invested time, emotion, and blood. Although he didn’t like New Orleans much, he was not terribly interested in returning to Seattle before we began cruising.

But Barry and I were willing to drive for three days straight in exchange for a few days visiting home, family, and friends. Coming over Snoqualmie Pass on I-90 on Wednesday morning, I was exhilarated. The road was lined with pine trees, frosted with snow. The air smelled like wood smoke. In places, there were waterfalls beside the interstate. Even the drivers were better, using turn signals and driving considerately. Their license plates all had Mount Rainier on them.

I am not a native of Seattle. I have only lived there for eight years, far fewer than my twelve years spent in Columbus or nine early years in the New Jersey shadow of the Big Apple. But those places did not fit me, so they’re not my home.

The Northwest is a place apart from the rest of the country. I felt that strongly, viscerally, when we drove the pass. The flat lands of Texas, Oklahoma, Kansas, and eastern Colorado ran together. The mountains of Colorado and Utah and Idaho did, too. But crossing the Cascades was like coming up the front walk of a home that you haven’t been to in a while.

What exactly is “home?” Is it possible to have more than one?

While in New Orleans, we called Seattle “home.” But while visiting Seattle, I said things like, “When we get home, we should…” Which is it? The place where you fit in and your soul feels at rest? Seattle, for me, is this place where I fit in, where the horizon ringed with mountains is like a border around my life. If so, why am I content cruising the rest of the world in a sailboat? There must be another home, one where you spend your days and nights. For me, that’s Cayenne — and like a happy turtle, I love the fact that we take our home from place to place.