Slide Rule

For anyone who’s been to Bainbridge recently, this story may ring true for you.

During the ride yesterday, Jess & I decided, to visit the vehicle deck of the ferry in preparation for arrival. With a little research, I’ve discovered a few fun facts. It seems the Bainbridge ferries travel at about 18 knots, or 20-21 mph (for the record, this is much, much faster than it sounds.) They also weigh almost 5,000 tons which is roughly 10 million pounds not including cargo. Who knew?

As we stood on the vehicle deck, bow of the boat, watching the island draw near, it was suddenly apparent that no ferry dock could be seen. The route from Seattle to Bainbridge is pretty straight, so as the waterfront properties came into focus, their carefully selected trim & floral-print curtains now clearly visible, it seemed reasonable to me that I should see the receiving assembly of our destination. Yet no such structure was visible, and still we rumbled forth. No sign of slowing, turning, or waking, as from a dream, or a wandering thought.

In my final moments, I tried to imagine why this was happening. Who had fallen asleep, or what wire had come apart. Where the warning alarm was, and in the back of my mind, what I would have to do to avoid a very painful death. I imagined 10 million pounds of steel mass colliding with boulders, sharp rocks, and sand. Maybe 100-150 cars, trucks, commercial vehicles and anything else that isn’t welded down sliding to the front of the boat and over the front like freshly chopped vegetables from the cutting board into the soup. Maybe more like a meat grinder from my angle.

Seemingly less than 1,000ft from shore, the ol’ can veered starboard, making its way through an inlet just to the north and into the harbor. I’m sure the Captain and crew get a good laugh out of that one every time.

I knew this going in, let’s be fair. There’s a site dedicated to the topic, in fact. The problem, simply put, is that bainbridge is apparently well known for it’s sudden, drastic elevation changes. Not to be discouraged by gossip and shortsighted speculation, however, I thought it worthwhile to investigate for myself.

It was warm, but not overly so – a soft chill in the wind kept things bearable. Jess & I got up a little later than planned, but got ourselves together in time for the 10:40 ferry. They have these little ‘bicycle parking’ ties on the ferry now you can attach to, simple yet effective. This was probably news generations ago, but having never been through this process with a bike before, it seemed noteworthy. On a side note, they don’t appear to be idiot proof. Some guy’s gear got loose and slid down the deck. Poor schmuck.

We stopped at the island post office in search of binding tape. My handlebar wrap had gotten loose and was coming unraveled. I ended up using 6 or 8 “Priority Mail” stickers instead. Almost as good (actually, not even close) but a whole lot cheaper. We stopped again to grab sandwiches at the grocery store. Each stop means undoing my cleated biking shoes, taking off my socks, and throwing on some sandals. unpack the bag, repack the bag, shop, unpack, repack, ride. I’m glad they’re made with velcro. Also I’m not complaining or anything. Really.

The plan was to hook up with the 305 and see where it took us. I had glanced at a topo map of the island before we left, but… those things are so hard to read. Fair to say I was hoping for the best, but pretty well in the dark about what to expect. The backup plan was to keep an eye on the downhills that might be uphills on the way back. We sneaked through town and made it to the 305 with little incident, then across to Manitou beach avoiding any steep inclines. The scenery was enjoyable, but there was a stink of very fresh cow crap we never quite found the source of.

Island communities have this funny habit of putting dinky little 1/2 lane one-ways in the strangest places. To avoid breaking the law and maybe getting, at worst, a look of disapproval from someone’s dog, we followed the overly descriptive (and barricaded) “Do not enter! Do not enter! no cars, no horses, no bikes, no pedestrians, don’t even LOOK the wrong way down this road” signs and made our way through a wooded area, and eventually into a little crossroads with an auto shop, a corner store, and one of those traditional Pacific Northwest outdoor sporting goods stores. In every direction except the way we came was either long, steep inclines, or dead ends. Consulting a map, I found a side street that would take us back to the 305. It turned out to be a long dirt road very much resembling someone’s driveway, and not reassuring me in the least. As advertised, however, it pulled through for us. One short, steep loose-gravel decline, and one last big incline and we made it back to the highway.

Content with our effort, we made our way back to the terminal, and placed our fate once again in the hands of the maniacal WSDOT ferry operators (see later post). Worth mentioning at this point, once we were away from the dock and securely held hostage, the announcer made a point of letting us know he had crashed more ferries than any state operator. “Lucky for us”, he continued, “I’m not driving”. Very funny.

It gets cold in September. Not the kind of thing you’d probably enjoy unless you’re from here. Winds and Rains, cloudy skies, temperatures varying by 10 degrees at a time throughout the day. Cold, wet, gray. Dull as it sounds though, it’s tame, and remarkably pretty.

As the city is wrapped up in a blanket of dark clouds, the contrast of the colored lights on the darkness illuminates it like a rare gem in a spotlight. The rain is cold, sure, but it’s warm enough to be tolerable with light waterproofing, and there’s something uncharacteristically warm about it despite its more obvious nature. The winds, I’ll admit, are probably the most challenging. Wind and rain tends to be a tough combination too, but I always feel alive when I’m that close to the elements.

I walked through Discovery park yesterday, and saw the season changing before my eyes. Above me the sun beat down a mild heat, showing wear in the summer’s tough exterior. The trees weren’t yet brown, but the greenery was no longer as bright, and there were leaves everywhere. Fields of Dandelions had turned into only a handful of yellow, and a few more turned seed-farm. The blackberries were covered in dust, and produced a meager crop of fruit. A tired, old dragonfly settled down on a cracked slab of cement, unconcerned with passing pedestrians, enjoying the last moments of sunshine before the harsh cold, and probably it’s fast-approaching death. I spent a moment on the cliffs, as one does when coming here, looking out over the sound. And for a moment, I was reminded of the reasons I took up sailing. In this mild, late summer afternoon, the ocean, for such a dull, flat expanse of nothing, still has an appeal like no other.

I’ll miss the summer when it’s gone, but for now I’m happy to look forward to the fall. Home cooked meals, snow sports, holidays, mini-vacations to warmer climates. I’m ready. Happy fall everyone.