Small towns of Washington - North Bend, Ellensburg, Thorp and Roslyn

The Pacific Northwest was likely one of the first populated areas in North America. Things looked different 13,000 years ago, of course, but it was still beautiful, still fertile, still a desirable place to live. I love it here: the plants are all so excited to grow, the animals have fat little bellies, and the woods are green and dark and mysterious. Living here in Seattle has given me a greater appreciation for my hometown's nature, too. Spokane is so much more arid, all pines and volcanic rock and feisty little plants that have to fight a bit harder for their water. Driving back and forth between the two ends of the state, I pass through wet mountains and dry plains, realizing that neither Seattle nor Spokane are as extreme in their nature as I think them to be. I'm not a person of extremes myself: more happy little river than churning ocean or quiet stream. I like that my two homes feel balanced, and are beautiful in very different ways.

Jason and I drive the 300 miles between Seattle and Spokane monthly to visit family. We have a fairly predictable schedule: Seattle to Ellensburg for food, Ellensburg to Moses Lake or Ritzville for a bathroom break, and on to Spokane; reverse on the return. Between those ports are tiny towns, holdovers from Washington's mining and railroad history. There are little pockets of life and death and stories dotted all across the state, and I want to know more of them. Just west of Ellensburg is a strange little cemetery in a field right off the highway: one day I will figure out how to get there. Outside Moses Lake is some sort of industrial structure, lit up at night like some bizarre alien fortress at Christmas.

Jason is at MRO, UW's telescope near Ellensburg, for the long weekend. I've never visited, and this weekend seems like a great chance to see both MRO and some of the towns in between. I'll drive to Ellensburg and meet Jason and his team in the early evening, and then we'll all drive up the mountain to MRO. I'll leave early the next day and be home before noon, I think.

Western Washington, near North Bend

It takes me forever to pack the car even though I'm only doing one overnight. Bailey gets to stay with JudyMom, and he's excited for a lazy day of cuddles on a different couch. I don't start driving east until late afternoon. I had planned on seeing Roslyn before Ellensburg, but decide to stop in North Bend first on a whim. Jason's not leaving Seattle until 4:30, and I figure an hour and a half should be enough for both towns. 

The drive into North Bend is just off I90, and the view is immediately dominated by their mountain made famous in Twin Peaks. I don't know anything about Twin Peaks, but I've heard from fans that there's an iconic cafe from the series that's known for their pie. Sold.

Mount Si and Little Si 

Pie paintings on the side of Twede's Cafe

Apple pie

Weird books at all the tables

I park and go to Twede's Cafe. You can see the famous Mount Si and Little Si from the street. (Incidentally, I've read that Mount Si is a good beginners hike and Jason and I plan to try it soon.) The cafe interior is just what you expect from a diner: long counters, red stools, old booths. The walls are covered in pine paneling, the linoleum is faded and cracked. Lace curtains hang on the windows, and you can see through the order-up into a large kitchen. I sit at the counter, but don't like having my back exposed for some reason, so I switch to a booth. I order apple pie, despite everyone saying they're known for cherry. Snoqualmie Brewery now makes a Twin Peaks ale, and the waitresses have shirts with the logo. I love everything about the logo except the checkered floor, but that's probably a reference I just don't understand. It's the first time I've heard the "The owls are not what they seem" quote, and I wish I had come up with it.  

The pie is delicious. The apples are sweet, but you can still taste the distinct appleness under the sugar. Usually my favorite thing about pie is the crust, and I love that the baker has put an extra fold of pastry at the edge. I decide I have time to walk along main street. The businesses are typical of small town Washington: gift shops with Native American art (authenticity optional), huckleberry-infused food, and pamphlets for outdoor attractions. There are a lot of gaps between buildings that open up to the surrounding mountains as little fields of yellow flowers and debris.

Litter in North Bend

Flowers in the alleys

Theater painting

Part of a theater signage

I walk out of town to the bridge I came in on. There's a dirt track that leads to a still-used train track that bridges over the river. It's obvious people come here a lot to relax: there are well worn paths under the car bridge and recent fire circles. It looks like there's some talented graffiti back under there, but I'm not comfortable poking around alone. 

A building's signage in North Bend

Hanging flower basket and Mount Si

My plan is to drive to Roslyn, but when I get back on I90 traffic quickly comes to a halt. According to Google Maps, there is an accident causing a 20 mile backup and over 2-hour delay. I hope the estimates are wrong, but it takes over 90 minutes to go 8 exits. I try to exit at Snoqualmie to take a frontage road shortcut, but it's so backed up I turn around in 20 minutes to get back on the freeway again. By this time, Jason and his team have caught up to the roadblock, and we text when we have signal, trying to figure out how we can get to Ellensburg faster. Google Maps suggests we take an exit at Hyak and drive miles on a forest service road to bypass the worst of the block, and hook back up with I90 down the road. I don't trust the app after the last sidetrack, but Jason is going to go with it so I want to try as well. The road winds away from the freeway and up into the mountains. It's beautiful, the trees lean close to the car and it starts to rain lightly. I have to drive slowly to avoid potholes and washouts in the dirt road. The road takes me further and further from the freeway, and I worry that I made a mistake taking this shortcut. Just when I worry that I should turn around and go back I spot a trillium and remember that they're Maggie's good luck charm. I keep driving forward.

Forest service road

The road pops out of the forest and I'm back to the freeway. Jason and I will definitely come back to camp here. I've bypassed the traffic snarl and it's smooth the rest of the way to Ellensburg. We don't meet up until almost 9PM, and after we eat we still have to get gas, stop at Fred Meyer, and then it's another 40 minutes up the mountain. I thought we'd get to MRO about 6, and have daylight to take a walk around the grounds, see the observatory, and hang out. Instead, we throw our sleeping bags on a cot at about 11:30PM and kill a few millipedes before falling into fitful sleep.

Jason and the crew are at MRO for their annual cleaning spree, and I'm in the way. With yesterday's major delay, they have to work even harder today. I want to help, but I don't know how to solder, strip wires, or clean the control room. When I'm not hovering, I organize the cabinets in the kitchen and clean off the table. I love seeing this space that Jason has spent so much time and energy on. He's worked so hard to make MRO sustainable, and to engage students across departments in the success of the telescope. He has a lot of passion for the projects he's apart of, and it shows.

MRO exterior

Jason in the control room

Signage in MRO

View from the top of the mountain 

MRO is hard to find. It's a good 30 minutes from downtown Ellensburg, and the turnoff up the mountain is easy to miss. You have to have a truck or SUV to get up to the observatory: the roads are muddy, heavily rutted, and rocky. You get up there either by knowing exactly where you're going, or by getting lost and stumbling upon it. Because it's a University entity, it's actually open to the public. Jason says the last time they were up there, two drunk hunters wandered in, curious. The crew gave them a tour of the facility. 

It's arid up here, desert-like and rocky. The air is so dry the my hair is full of static and my sinuses ache. Scrubby pines and smaller bushes stretch from the mountain down to Ellensburg, and wind turbines crown a hill in the distance. It reminds me of a slightly dryer, browner Spokane.

MRO from the observation deck

Little flowers

There's a blue jay in the top of the tree

Last night, Jason had to drive me from the bottom of the mountain up, and today he has to take me back down to leave. He finds a quite moment where he can be missed for 40 minutes and drives me down. We pass free-range cows but they don't let me pet them. I'm glad to see they have ear tags but no brands or notches. There are fields of lupine under the pine trees. We pass horses, chipmunks, and birds. 

Horse gate with horse in the distance

I get back on I90 headed west toward Roslyn. As I drive, I see a sign for Historic Thorp Mill and decide on a whim I want to see it. I stop first at the Thorp Fruit & Antique Mall. We stopped here a few years ago for gas and I took a photo of grain trucks that ended up on Vogue Italia's website. I like being back in the daylight, looking at all the things. I buy Jason some early Rainier cherries, try a pear and a nectarine. I go upstairs to look at the antiques. I grew up roaming antique stores with my parents, and I still love them for the nostalgia and also for all the stories. I find some great vintage Pyrex, vintage quilts, and jewelry. I fall in love with these really silly little planters that look like cottages surrounded by cacti: you plant your own plants in their front yards. 

Antique marriage certificate

Prohibition poster

Vintage textiles

Vintage quilt

Cross stitch embroidery on a quilt

I want the front planter

In a stall on the top level, I hear fluttering and banging coming from a nearby window. I look behind a display case and see a young bird trapped between the window pane and the case. He's trying to get out the window but pauses and looks up at me. He shuffles himself off the ledge and onto the floor behind a coat. He lets me pet him, so I gently grab him and pull him up. He sits quietly in my hand a moment before wiggling out and flying up into the rafters. I wanted to take him all the way outside, but I think he'll find his own way out. At least he's not trapped anymore. 

I get back in the car and follow signs to the mill. I pass horses and goats, and laugh at some sheep. I get to the mill. It's closed, but they have a self-guided outdoor tour that I think is such a cool addition to a historic site. While the mill is a historic site, Thorp also uses it as a community gathering site, which helps keep it relevant to the community. The outdoor signage talks about the history of mill, and how Thorp was one of the first towns in Washington to have electricity thanks to its presence. The mill ground grain for the farmers, and the railroad that goes through town was built by Chinese laborers. 

Mill, with wild roses and finger in frame

Interpretive signage

Back of the mill

Small waterfall from mill stream

I'm much more aware of interpretive materials since starting the museology program. I think about what it took to create these signs. The story had to be written in an accessible way, the signs had to be manufactured to withstand extreme elements, and they had to be placed in relevant places without blocking the views. I like this part of exhibit design, I like the challenge and the puzzle. 

It's time to finally go to Roslyn. Maps takes me through Cle Elum, which Siri pronounces as "C-L-E ellyum." I see a sign for a historic cemetery, but I go on to Roslyn instead. Roslyn is a classic mining town and looks it. I drive through the main street, which is a strip of old buildings with classic western-looking storefronts. Recently, it was the filing location for Northern Exposure. Historically, it was the site of the "McCarty Gang Bank Robbery," in which all 6 robbers were acquitted due to a hung jury: several were later killed during a bank robbery in Colorado. 

Church door 4 feet off the ground: I don't know if I should make a 'leap of faith' or 'stairway to heaven' joke

Roslyn Inn and Victorian house

Main street buildings

Roslyn is well known for its vast cemetery that represents the diversity of their immigrant population. Twenty-four nationalities are represented in the nearly 5,000 graves. Twenty-six different cemetery plots are spread across 15 acres in the woods above the town, each representing a different ethnic group or lodge.  I wish I had time to stop at the small museum in town to learn more about the layout and history. There are a lot of groups visiting for the Memorial Day Weekend, and I don't want to intrude on their ceremonies. I stay away from the formally laid out veterans areas and go into the wilder, older plots. My favorite is a single headstone for a brother and sister, surrounded by a little picket fence. 

Old City Cemetery

American baby graves often feature lamb imagery

Panorama of Old City Cemetery with IOOF and Slovak cemeteries in the background

A Kelly. Family lore says that one of my great-greats was mad at his father, and so changed his last name from Kelly to Kelley. I'm not sure if the story's true, but it sounds like something a Kelley would do

George & Maud

infant son & dau of 

Mr. & Mrs. S. Mills

Stones and lupine

Dr. Stacevich No.1 plot

I want to stop and look in the shops, drive through more of the town, and get a bite to eat, but I'm running way late. I have to get back into Seattle to pick up Bailey from Judy's and then meet Sarah and Kate for a crafting evening. I decide I'll come back and do more exploring soon. If there's one thing these towns have proven it's that they're here to stay awhile.