J. was a little annoyed. I was making a three point turn — well, in truth, it was closer to a 12 point turn — in a gravel and mud driveway lined on both sides by tire eating gullies. The road was fast and winding — it was hard to see oncoming traffic from either direction. “Trust me,” I insisted, “it’s worth it. See, there’s this giant yellow dinosaur leaning up against a shed… really, we have to go back.”
It’s a long time ago now, but I still remember coming across a giant concrete head somewhere in Montana. It was about 15 feet tall and sprayed gold. The accompanying plaque, probably a xeroxed sheet stuffed into a sleeve protector and stapled on to plywood, proclaimed it the “second largest head of Abraham Lincoln in the world.” What’s not to like about that? Last summer found me admiring any number of world’s largest objects — more presidents, a buffalo, a giant cow. There’s a frying pan out on the Washington coast and, inland and a bit south, a giant egg, the two separated by some cruel act of fate or feuding families. In Idaho, I sat at the base of the world’s largest potato. In Klamath Falls, Oregon, I stared up at Paul Bunyan and his enormous blue ox Babe, and in somewhere in Canada, I parked my car in front of an enormous T-Rex, his right foot the size of my Toyota Tercel.
Rich’s Art Yard in Centralia, Washington, is a assemblage of Styrofoam and re-bar and plastic garbage all stuck together in a crazy mess of, well, what is that place? While my real estate agent dragged me around from house to sad house, I peered over the fence and out windows that badly needed replacing into the Walker Rock Garden, a mosaic playground of river rock and obsession. In a blinding downpour of hail and rain, a friend and I drove the Enchanted Highway in North Dakota, stopping at each of the roadside sculptures that were big, sure, but more than that — plus, at the end of the road, there’s a “put in a quarter and make it go” contraption that’s got whirlygigs and oh, just go to North Dakota. J and I took a pocket full of quarters into the calliope museum, where on earth were we, was it Wyoming? And I have creepy memories of a letterpress museum somewhere in California run by a guy who seemed to have some scary political tendencies even while having a remarkable collection of old wood type.
I did not mean to veer in to a catalog of my roadside adventures. What I meant to say was that last weekend, after navigating a messy turn around without incident, we wandered the grounds of Eaglemount Rockeries. According to the hard-to-read hand out, the first knee high stone structure was built in 1948 — there was apparently, a pressing need for a windmill in the front garden and Mrs. Wolfer set herself to addressing that issue, and many, many others.
The mistress of the property found she had a liking for building these little structures and now, there are dozens of them all around the front of the main house. Her interests took a turn towards the historical and she began creating tableaus of pioneer life — there’s a school house and a jail and a bootlegger and a whole crew of Native Americans, most of whom look as though they are buried in the ground up to their waists because they are torsos only. There’s a to scale map of Washington State, and some regional icons — a few Japanese temples, a mini Mount Rushmore, a Sphinx and her companion pyramids. We squelched around in the wet grass, reading signs made out of those plastic labels — you know, the ones that punch the letters in all caps on to tape that you then peel the backing off, what are they called? I stood beside the bright yellow dinosaur, he had a green pattern up his spine and an appealing grin, his chin was propped up on the edge of the stone jailhouse.
Eaglemount Rockeries has a new owner now but it’s still free to stop in a poke around. It’s sort of on the way to Port Townsend, sort of, if you detour a little. There are a couple of cottages you can rent if you can’t get enough of the place. It’s actually easy to miss if you’re not paying attention — if you’re heading south and you pass a grinning yellow dinosaur, you’ve got too far. It’s easier if you’re driving north — you’ll see the sign for the motel and a flag waving braid wearing concrete “Indian” welcoming you.
The badly xeroxed flier calls Eaglemount Rockeries a “place to come and see for free.” That’s an understated sales pitch for an hour or so of taking a tour of someone else’s imagination. If you’re out that-a-way and have a fondness, as I do, for the obscure and wacky, take a detour and stop for a while.
It was with great ambivalence that I acquired an iPhone. While there’s much to love about the technology, the cellphone industrial complex makes me crazy. It’s tempting to veer into a consumer rant here, but I’ll sidestep that to tell you that I have greatly enjoyed having the Internet in my pocket. I also rather like some of the fun toys that make my phone do more stuff.
We recently spent a weekend in Kitsap county, just west of Seattle, and I shot a handful of photos with the phone in my camera and then, ran them through a little post processing tool called Polarize. I’m enjoying the lo-fi look, plus, it’s fun to share them right away via my other internet addiction, Twitter. The results are in the slideshow below, there’s more to come, I’m sure.
FYI: Our stay at the Clam Cannery was comped, we were invited by the owners.
Port Townsend is such a great getaway from Seattle — it’s a two hour drive plus a ferry trip — close enough for the ambitious to go for the day but far away enough to feel like somewhere else. It’s a good town for eating, wandering, window shopping, just poking around. The old brick buildings are in great shape — they’re clearly well loved. In the off season, Port Townsend is a quiet old seaport with lots of Victorian architecture and it is, in the completely cliched meaning of the word, charming. In summertime, it’s home to all kinds of festivals, it’s lively and fun. Another cliche and in this case, totally appropriate.
The Clam Cannery is right on the waterfront, it’s a cool old brick building that did indeed used to be a clam cannery. It’s had a gorgeous renovation, inside and out and currently houses four vacation rental units — they’re apartments, really — and some still unfinished space downstairs. We had a studio — a very large room with a full kitchen and a few of the ferry dock. While we were in town we walked everywhere, it’s close to all the waterfront restaurants and stores, we didn’t use the car unless we were heading out of town. I love staying in a place where I can walk everywhere.
There’s a tremendous amount of thought given to the building materials — the counters in the kitchen are poured concrete with shells, there’s hammered copper on the doors and stove backsplash, the cabinets are recycled wormwood timber, I’m sitting at the counter and it’s made of a smooth refurbished piece of redwood or cedar — everything has a polished but not fussy feel, I like that a lot.
The owners left us some treats — I admit it, I love it when there’s a cheese plate or fruit basket for me on check in, it’s one of the great perks of being “press.” There were also some useful odds and ends around — it’s a little frustrating to stay in a place with a kitchen and find yourself buying odd things like, oh, salt and pepper. There’s a stocked spice cabinet and a few other useful cooking items that are intended for all the guests. I like that, too.
There were few things that were a little less than perfect. In our unit, there was no towel rack or hook near the shower, only near the sink, so there’s no good place to hang your fluffy bathrobe (I never expect to have this little amenity and LOVE it when it’s provided) or towel. The floors are lovely gray brown polished concrete, but they’re cold — I’d packed my slippers, they live in my bag — you’ll want yours if you stay here. The bed is super comfortable, oh my, and the bedding is nice too, but the frame was noisy, every time one of us rolled over it complained. Finally, the furniture, all attractive and comfortable, is a little oddly arranged — there’s no good place to sit if you want to watch movies on the big flat screen TV. This is all minor stuff and all easy to fix, but noticeable none the less.
I dropped a note to the owners about all of these issues and save for one, the response was, “We’re on it! Thanks for letting us know!” The only thing that they couldn’t address right away was the heat — the floors will have radiant heating once the ground floor is completed. This gives some context for our stay; if I think of our visit as a preview, I can imagine that the hotel will be something very special once all the details are worked out. The owners are shooting to have everything completed before this summer.
I’m a big fan of independent hotels or vacation rental by owner type properties. Clam Cannery absolutely suits the way I like to travel. It’s not a budget stay, though — the site says that rates start at 275/night — so I’ll be honest and tell you that I’d not stay here on my own because of the price. There are some discounted packages available — check the site — and Clam Cannery is also listed in the Seattle Tour Saver, a book full of discounts for travel in the greater Seattle area. (The Tour Saver folks fall under the heading of “friends of Nerd’s Eye View”, another FYI.)
A few practical reminders:
Pack your slippers or the big woolly socks.
There’s no dedicated parking. There’s 24 hour parking a few blocks away but you may want to unload first if you’re traveling heavy.
There’s a full kitchen, so if you’re wired that way, bring your groceries — or buy fresh seafood at the marina.
Clam Cannery is at 111 Quincy Street in beautiful downtown Port Townsend.
On Common Ground, Chimacum: Here’s to pie made by floury kitchen lasses with broad upper arms. Here’s to sandwiches that look big enough to feed two, to service that’s both cheerful and laconic at the same time. Here’s to pecan pie bites in their own little foil pans and to molasses ginger cookies that use twice, maybe three times the ginger that other weak, less made with real butter cookies have. There’s little that makes me happier than a quality bakery that serves up truly home made treats with good coffee. Stop on your way into or out of Port Townsend. [~ 8.00 for coffee and snacks for two]
The Public House Grill, Port Townsend: There are lots of places sort of like this one, I had a real sense of deja vu sitting under the high tin ceiling — was it somewhere in Australia I was transported to? Usually the beer is local microbrew, the food a little disappointing. At the Public House it’s yes to the microbrews and no to disappointing food. My grilled ling cod on salad was an impeccably cooked piece of fish (and I’m picky as hell about seafood) on a generous plate of greens. J’s burger and fries got a “Yeah, that was good,” but he’s a guy of few words. It was nice in there, too, twinkly lights and Sam Cook on the PA, not too loud. Lovely. Date worthy, but there were families with kids there too. We’ll go back. [43.64, dinner for two with drinks, tip and tax]
The Coffee Loft and Bake Shop, Port Hadlock: It’s rare that I walk into a place and like the art, I’m as picky about that as I am about how my fish is cooked. I liked the crazy irregular photo collages on the walls in this cafe and I liked the big slabs of coffee cake and almond cake. I liked the old guys having their Sunday morning powwow just over there, and I liked eavesdropping on the ladies in the corner, even if they weren’t very cosmopolitan. “Who serves CURRY at an event?! Who eats that stuff? We stopped at the McDonald’s on the way home!” Good baking, good coffee, live entertainment provided by default if your ears are big enough. And oh, righteous brownies. [7.90, coffee and snacks for two]
The Fountain Cafe, Port Townsend: This tiny shoebox of a place serves up possibly the best cioppino (a tomato based seafood stew) I’ve ever eaten. Our generous plates filled up the little cafe table — my dinner was oh so fresh, the tomatoes tasted home grown, there was just a tiny bit of spicy kick with a nice sour edge from the capers… oh, it was good. J had the smoked salmon fettuccine, finished with a little splash of scotch and plenty of salmon, everything was first rate. I was sad to be too full for dessert because dinner was so outstanding, but we walked away from the hazelnut torte. If you’re in Port Townsend, eat here. You may have to wait because really, it’s tiny, but it’s worth the wait — and worth every penny. Yes, there’s a kids menu, too. Yum. [66.99 for dinner, salad, San Pelligrino, for two]
Sunday was perfect. A friend fed us fresh baked biscuits and jam for breakfast, we went for a walk through the market and shot some pictures, stopped for fish and chips at the beach, then went for cupcakes. We had made no plans for Valentine’s Day and really, it could not have been better.
