Being Seattle - Graduation and Cheshiahud Loop

Friday, I graduated from the UW museology graduate program. Two years, hundreds of hours, dozens of friends. An exhibit, internships, volunteering, a thesis on the importance of adult play in museums. I will miss my cohort, of journeying with 32 other smart, talented, driven people toward our goals. I'm happy to inhabit the museum world with them. 

Most of the cohort this spring. Missing a few important faces, though. 

Our graduation ceremony is lovely: intimate, casual, fun. My thesis adviser, Seth, is our class-elected speaker, and gave a moving and hilarious TED SETH Talk. I get to meet the families of some of my friends, and it's so cool to see where they've come from. Michael's dad bonds with Jason over physics. I get to connect Jason with Julian over astronomy. Kate's parents are so warm. Seth's wife is so funny and fierce. Molly's family immediately talks to me like one of their own. I miss my own parents and my brother. I told them not to come to my graduation because I knew the traffic, the crowds, the hectic nature of the U District during graduation weekend would be so much more stressful than I think an hour ceremony is worth. I want them to come back later this summer when we can have more space in the city with fewer people. But still, I'm sad I can't hug them and tell them how much I appreciate the love and support they've given me through my education.  

Husbear and Witten after graduation

Sunday, and Jason left early this morning for a conference in California. It's the first time since I started the program I don't have something I could be doing for school. Even last summer when I didn't have classes, I was still doing thesis work. I could definitely do housework, apply for museum jobs, and a lot more today, but it's nice to not have schoolwork in the back of my mind. Graduating from the museology program is one thing I could not have done in Spokane- there's no similar program near by, no other master's program that interested me the same way. I've now done a thing, start to finish, that I could only have done in Seattle. I've lived here for 4 years this August, but only now I start to feel like I really live here, instead of just hang out. Today I'm going to do another thing I can only do in Seattle: I'm walking the 6 mile Cheshiahud Loop around Lake Union. 

Loop map

Cheshiahud Loop is named for Duwamish chief John Cheshiahud, who was also known as "Lake Union John." When the local tribes were forcibly moved to Port Madison Indian Reservation, Cheshiahud refused to move and stayed on his acre farm. According to his obituary, Cheshiahud stayed put on his land until the death of his beloved wife, when he moved to the rez of his own volition to live with his daughter. An interesting (sad, angering, inspiring, frustrating) read on the history of Lake Union and its native inhabitants is here. The history is confusing, though, and it appears that a man known as Old Tom is just another name Cheshiahud was known by.

Cheshiahud with his second wife, Madeline. 

The Loop celebrates Seattle's connection to its waterfront, connecting urban and industrial areas with over 35 pocket parks, the South Lake Union cultural area, and public art. It spans several distinctive neighborhoods, which is important because the City of Seattle itself says "as a whole, Lake Union remains inaccessible and disconnected as a resource, both for the communities that surround it and the general public." Alright, Seattle: let's make a love connection today. 

I park in the U District near Portage Bay so that I'll start my walk across the University Bridge and down Eastlake. (Apparently Portage Bay the restaurant is a great place for breakfast, but we've never been: the line is always too long.) Before I even start the official Loop, I get sidetracked: Portage Bay Restaurant has a grange store and I have always wanted to stop and see what it's about. Turns out, what it's about is chickens. Adorable, fancy, peeping chickens. They have chicks and laying hens, some rabbits, and fancy pigeons. They also sell all of the supplies you could possibly need (and a few you don't need at all) to have city chickens. My friend Tiffany has the happiest chickens I've ever seen, and I think about her while I look around. 

Goober

Poor peepers were afraid of me

Chicken harness. Yes, please. 

The grange store also sold Cafe Du Monde mix, which took me right back to my 30th birthday celebration in New Orleans. 

I start the Loop heading south across the University Bridge. I drive across this bridge all the time (it's a lot faster to get downtown this way than taking I5) but I've never walked it. It crosses Ship Canal/Portage Bay where Lake Union meets Lake Washington, and spans old buildings, water, houseboats, and shoreline. I like looking down from the bridge to the water, and I worry the whole time I'll drop my phone. Some women stand-up paddle-board underneath me, and then a rowing crew follows.

University Bridge looking south

From water balloons filled with paint, maybe?

Hi, shadow

I5's Ship Canal Bridge in the distance

I want that little house with the plants

Peregrine falcon over the bridge. He called constantly in these high-pitched screeches and was flying in tight circles above me.

I have a general idea of the direction I should head: keep your right hand to the water as you walk and you'll eventually make a circle. But the actual Loop cuts through busy streets and residential roads both, and I want to follow it as much as possible. Cheshiahud Loop signs are plentiful on this side of the lake, but I don't see any on the west side of my walk. I pass a few of the 30+ micro-parks the Loop incorporates. Most are little more than a gravel 10x10 patch with a sign and maybe a bench or two. A few are decorated with ceramic tiles made by children and artists. I like that they're here, I like that they give people a place (an excuse? the permission?) to stop and admire their surroundings. I don't think most of them are well executed, but I'm still grateful we have the spaces. 

I pass a huge community garden and want to go in and look around so badly, but there's a dude acting weird by the gate so I don't go in. Someone has planted the most beautiful roses and they smell heavenly. I see crops and flowers, garden art and honeybees. The apartments on the hill above have a beautiful view of the gardens and Lake Union. There's a sign for the Eastlake P-Patch's annual Eastlake Summer Solstice Celebration and I plan to attend. Apparently part of the festivities includes slug races. 

Sneaky Loop sign

Community garden and apartments

These roses smelled amazing

Garden gate and sign

Visitor book entry

I'm using an app to track my miles and time, and I've gone 2 miles in 40 minutes. That time isn't winning any prizes, and I'm torn between wanting to walk quicker for my ego and walk slower for my enjoyment. And my lungs. I have to wind out of the residential when it dead-ends into the water, and walk up a steep hill to a main road. Two blocks on that and then I can dip back down into the neighborhood by the water. This part of Eastlake is interesting: houseboats and apartments are making way for boat sale and repair businesses and old buildings. At the third mile the water opens up more and I'm officially in South Lake Union. (Here's a funny aside: South Lake Union got a streetcar, but residents called it the trolley. Which means it was the S.L.U.T., which some people found hilarious and others found upsetting. You can guess which camp I'm in.) 

Pretty dead end

Old building on the water with snag and horsetail fern

Looking across Lake Union to Westlake and (I think) Queen Anne

Canada goose butt

I cross docks and piers for SLU businesses and restaurants and find out that one of our favorite Seattle restaurants has a SLU location with a gorgeous view. I'm not sure if the Loop is supposed to take me on the docks that go down to the Center for Wooden Boats outside of MOHAI, but I go that way anyway. I find out about Sunday Public Sail, an event they've done every Sunday for 25 years where they take the public out on a variety of historic boats for free. It's so cool to hear the skippers talk with such enthusiasm about these boats. I don't care that much about boats, but hearing their passion makes me excited anyway. I dodge a lot of strollers. I overhear one small girl say to her family "If you're not walking now then I'm going to keep walking without you."  

Little wooden boat

Sailboats

Space Needle from MOHAI's grounds

Great blue heron, turtle, and ducks

Goose feathers

The residential plots of Eastlake are replaced with businesses in Westlake. Boats for sale, boats for rent, things for your boat, and restaurants for boaters. There's a place called 'Discount Divers' and I think that if I'm going to splurge on anything, it will probably be something that keeps me alive underwater. I pass a Chinese restaurant with a huge, flat facade. I don't really like Chinese food, but I can see through the doors that the place has a great view and think we should try the place sometime. 

I stupidly didn't bring water with me because I didn't want to carry a bottle for six miles, so I stop in to a dockside convenience store and pay way too much for a small bottle. I have a master's degree now, and I should know a lot of things. But I'm still an idiot in a lot of ways, and didn't bring water, a sports bra, chapstick, or sunglasses for my walk. I made sure to wear my fanny-pack with pride, at least. I'm somewhere between miles four and five, and this is the first time I think "I should have stayed home." It's such an easy walk, and the weather is lovely. I'm just not used to walking this much at once, and my hips hurt and my feet are sore. There are a few private lots mixed in with the businesses: funky little wooden staircases that lead down to shared docks and floating houses. I bet it's fun to live on a boathouse. I see a groovy little one that's painted hot pink, and I'm pretty sure I know which mailbox belongs to it. 

New favorite mailbox

I see traffic stretched up ahead, and know I must be close to the big, blue Fremont Bridge. According to Wikipedia, it's one of the busiest bascule bridges in the world, and possibly the most frequently opened drawbridge in the US. Apparently the blue and orange paint job was chosen by voters at a 1985 street fair. Must have been Broncos fans. I really like poking around Fremont for shopping and gawking, but I'm trying to improve my pace even as I'm tiring out, so I keep walking. 

Welcome to Fremont, Center of the Universe - please turn watch ahead 5 minutes

Aurora Bridge over Lake Union. The bridge has a terrible history of accidents and suicides. 

I pass more businesses and apartments. There's a Turkish restaurant with a really fun-looking patio and a brewery with long community-dining tables outside and dozens of parked bikes. I walk past a coffee shop that is built into this street's weird topography: the sidewalk out front is much lower than the level of the sidewalk at the back, so I walk past the back and look down and in through the windows to the cooks.

I make it to Gas Works Park just about the time I am all funned out and want to be done walking. I consider just walking past it instead of through it, but that seems like taking a shortcut 22 miles into a marathon. (My friends who run marathons are rolling their eyes at me comparing my 6 mile walk with their 26 mile race but I don't care because I have Sims that are maxed out on the fitness skill, so...) I climb up the big hill in the middle and take exactly one photo when my phone dies at 40% battery. I should be fine, I know the way back to my car from here, but I'm still anxious without the map. And I'm frustrated that my phone wont record my distance and speed for the last leg, but that's probably better for my ego anyway. I'm dragging. Plus, the view is spectacular and I was hoping to take some city shots.

Bottom of the hill

Gas Works and city

I make it through the park and back to a trail, but at this point the Loop and Burke-Gilman Trail have smashed themselves together and I don't know which I'm technically on. Bicyclists drive really fast through here, and I stick as close to the shoulder as I can so I don't get run over. Close to the University Bridge again, and wild roses and raspberry bushes grow in thick, sharp tangles right up next to the path. I make a note to come back here in a few weeks and pick as many berries as I can. Someone has left a gorgeous cane-bottomed rocking chair on the side of the road. It's weathered and the caning is a little torn, and I instantly want to take it home and try to refinish it. I see a few pieces like this every month in Seattle: great vintage furniture placed curbside for passersby or the elements to take. I wish I had a truck, and storage space at home, for all the treasures I find. 

Back where I started, and I walk under I5's Ship Canal Bridge, the freeway impossibly high above me. It's so loud, even hundreds of feet below the road. Freeway noise in Spokane never deafened like this, and I wonder how people live right here with the constant roar. Taggers have somehow climbed up to the trestles at least five stories above the ground to spray graffiti up there. The climb would be terrifying, but I bet the view is beautiful. 

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.