We had wisps of rain throughout the night but the temperature was pleasant. I was quite comfortable walking to the bathroom in my camp skirt.
Bill cooked another bacon, egg, and potato breakfast while I made the bed and started getting stuff ready for the road.
We got all hitched up and took one more walk to the beach. Saw a seal and piebald grebe.
Wandering home through La Conner, we stopped for coffee and really nice dark hot chocolate and also bought some Christmas presents and a lovely pair of earrings.
Searching for Fish Town
I saw Fish Town on the map and we tried to go there. The county road ended at Swan House Farm’s driveway. They have a lovely sign. The farm stand was open, but we didn’t need produce and couldn’t tell if we could turn around up there. Turned at the end of the county road and headed off again into the light drizzle.
As we backtracked, I looked up Swan House Farm. They are pretty neat. They’re family also owns San Fermo, an Italian restaurant in Ballard. The farm supplies the restaurant produce and meat. I sent a quick email to San Fermo to see if they had enough gluten-free items for Bill and I to visit without being sad.
I also looked up Fish Town. I mean, why was it on the map and not anywhere to be seen?
Fish Town was an artists colony/retreat of the most basic, barely tenable sort. In 1968, an artist dude who turned out to be a white supremacists–which apparently no one knew back then…although his art incorporated Hitler, swastikas, and other hints, people just thought they were allusions to horrible ideas, not a promotion of them. Anyway, this problematic guy, was walking along the beach and noticed some shacks on stilts that looked abandoned and decided to move in.
Apparently they really were (mostly) abandoned. Gill net fishers used to use them as scant comfort while they waited for their nets to fill. As fish stock tanked, regulations to protect them increased and eventually gill netting was banned, so there was no more need for the shacks.
Anyway the guy eventually made an agreement with the land owner to pay a super low rent (maybe a dollar a month or something). Other people started to visit, then stay and Fish Town grew. Some people lived there year round–sogging around during the big grey with no running water and no electricity–ugh! Some just visited to renew their spirit and energy by living simply among the gorgeous Skagit County water and woods. (With, maybe, the occasional horrid neonatzi rant, who knows?)
There were no roads to Fish Town. You either walked the beach, came by boat, or trespassed across several farms — some of which would really rather you didn’t. The last quarter mile was across the swampy ground on a raised boardwalk. Kind of cool, except for the problematic views of some of your neighbors.
Fish Town thrived?? until 1989. A landowner clearcut the forest right up to the colony and that was the end of that.
Again, who knew?
Tulalip Tribes
Our back road route took us through Tulalip lands. Another prompt for reflections. This land is beautiful. There was a small herd of bison, so off I went on another search. Bison aren’t indigenous to this area.
Of course the Tulalip Tribes know this. Bison has been an indigenous food for the people of the great plains forever though and the Tulalip Tribes’ efforts to create an elk farm ran into some difficulties that bison didn’t present. The tribes are encouraging healthy living by making more traditional foodways available. So I get to see bison on my roadtrip! Pretty good all around.
Along the road there were periodic signs with words in English and Lushootseed, the traditional language of the Coast Salish People. Do I remember any? No. Do I LOVE that the signs are there? YES!
The Tulalip Tribes offer a nice guide to visiting. I especially like the section on The People of the Salmon: the story of the tribes that become Tulalip.
There was a lovely sign along this part of the road, “Free apples, U-pick.” That’s my kind of sign. (Mine says “Neighborhood Fruit Fence, pick all you can use.”
Freeways as napping venues
Bill was driving, so I took a nap once we hit the freeway. I’ve seen this bit many times and love to nap in the car. Actually, I love to nap absolutely anywhere and happened to be in a car. Napping makes a long trip shorter.
Then a shower and another nap at home after tucking Brave Horatio away in the garage and hauling the perishables into the house.
Lovely little trip.