The Journey West

In Seattle, there are always too many people wearing black slacks. Todd, who works at REI, a Seattle native has never been to Olympic National Park. This is my second time in Seattle and I seem to like it less by the hour. The downtown is small, the city sprawls and the traffic near the waterfront is nearly a highway. It might just be that people here smile less than in New York.

In any case, I make my way to the ferry landing, take the ferry to Bainbridge, take a shuttle from there to the Hood Canal ferry, take a shuttle to the bus, and the bus to Port Angeles. I am finally on the peninsula after a four hour journey which has plagued commuters alike ever since the Hood Canal bridge was closed for improvement.

At last, the ferry to Port Angeles

At last, the ferry to Port Angeles


Once on the bus I let go of the city stress and gaze at the farmland and small towns sitting at water’s edge, clouds stretching for miles in the sky. I reminisce about Vancouver, like a brief love affair cut short by a duel, I am enamored with the city even though I’ve yet to know it.

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