Sale of boat leads couple to look inland for fun

Sound View

By Judy Hauser | For The Olympian • Published September 23, 2008

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Thanks to a rapid response on Craigslist in April, the Hausers found themselves suddenly boatless in Olympia — a city spawned in saltwater and immersed in water sports, a city chiseled by inlets and coves.

Could this amphibious couple find happiness in the summer of 2008 without a sailboat?

As the first sun-filled day in June reared its head, Mike began pacing the garage, looking for something to do with his hands, hands that had spent 20 summers sheeting a mainsail, grabbing a tiller and scratching salt from his ankles.

When he came into the library and threatened to yank up the carpet and slap down tile, I knew I had to get him moving.

So, in our aging Passat and with several old maps, we headed into a different kind of summer.

Rather than tacking through Dana Passage or dropping anchor off Squaxin Island, we motored along Washington's highways, searching for meaningful fun.

We proceeded cautiously onto the asphalt world. Our friend, the wind, couldn't help us with quick lane changes, road construction and sudden stops. Reading charts and tidebooks shifted to desperate squinting through crumpled, outdated roadmaps. Friendly nods of passing sailors and the peaceful slap of water across the bow were "swift-boated" by single-finger salutes and the more concise language of the road — shouts between motorists of "You idiot!"

Each excursion found our car heeling toward marinas, ferry terminals or peninsulas where water rarely escaped our field of vision. If we strayed too far and lost the scent of salt air, we instinctively found our way back. We ferried to Vashon Island, then Whidbey Island and drove to Port Townsend on a whim at three in the afternoon.

Finally, it sunk in. No matter how many miles of coastline we covered, no matter how many ferries we boarded, we were still hopelessly boatless. We needed to break the cycle and go inland.

Walla Walla was inland — 300 miles inland — where the most prominent bodies of water are irrigation ditches.

The mention of Walla Walla to some conjures up a famous onion and a notorious prison.

We'd had our fill of the Walla Walla sweet onion (Washington's official state vegetable) sauteed in a slather of grease and stuffed into our Demoburgers at Capital Lakefair.

The Washington State Penitentiary wasn't exactly a big draw, either, accommodating 2,000 inmates, where such residents as Green River Killer Gary Ridgway and Hillside Strangler Kenneth Bianchi are serving life-imprisonment sentences.

We drove 300 miles inland to forget the ocean. The Walla Walla wine country promised to quench our thirst with 100 wineries. Our inn, nestled in a sprawling vineyard, offered golden sunsets, rows of grapes and a flat-screen TV.

It wasn't until we drove home on U.S. Highway 30 along the Washington-Oregon border that we realized the power of water and wind had always been with us.

The Columbia River, the largest hydroelectric power-producing river in North America, boasting 14 hydroelectric dams, rolled magnificently toward the Pacific Ocean on our right.

On barren ridges, strings of wind turbines whirred in silent ballets, harnessing winds from the Columbia Gorge to produce electricity. The Stateline Wind Project is the second-largest wind farm in the country, with nearly 200 turbines operating in both Oregon and Washington.

A light blinked on, and I smiled at Mother Nature and the power of human ingenuity.

Judy Hauser is a South Sound writer who can be reached at mjhauser@mindspring.com. Her column appears on this page on alternate Tuesdays.