Day 20 – Thursday : Dungeness to Tacoma (179 km) This is to be our last day camping in nature, so I get up and take an 06:15 walk.
Everything is stillness on the spit; alone except for a few deer.
Are those marine mammals I can see? Bobbing in the waves, black and slick? After much staring it becomes evident that these were not sea lions or whales, but tree trunks. Soaked with sea water and barely buoyant they wallow awash in the surf, with only parts of them periodically exposed, black from their time submerged, occasionally rearing up or rolling over as the current interplays with the timber’s centre of gravity.
We spend some time to tidy up the camper. To get everything in the cab means mixing things in boxes – filling in any space available with anything that will fit, rather than the luxury of packing different types of things in different boxes for easy identification at time of unpacking. We also discard some clothes that had seen better days – space in our own luggage will be at a premium because we had the Jeep soft top to transport home.
We hadn’t done much advanced research about things to see in the Tacoma area, as we weren’t expecting to have time by the coast. But a quick look at the map shows the Naval Undersea Engineering Station at Keyport has a museum, and I knew Sally is fascinated by submarines.
The museum is free and has a number of famous deep-sea submersibles and lots of information about undersea exploration.
We ask the museum staff for lunch recommendations – Poulsbo they reply, and it is only a few minutes away.
As we entered the town Sally spots the Velkommen sign – “That’s not the German spelling” she points out, “more like Scandinavian”. As we enter the old part of town this impression intensifies. It’s pretty European houses definitely have a Scandinavian feel about them. The scale of the roads are also European, which isn’t quite compatible with the size of our vehicle, especially when it comes to finding a parking space. People in compact cars are hunting around for suitable parking, so we stand no chance. In the end we drive to the edge of the old town and park in a blocked off road below a set of condominiums, a good 20 minute walk to the restaurants at the centre. But the walk is worth it and gives us more time to see the town.
We locate a suitable restaurant where we can sit outside in the warmth. I’m not sure what Sally orders – I have a picture of it, but still can’t tell. I have fish-and-chips, since we are at the “sea-side”.
We don’t want to rush off so ask about deserts. They have cake or cake; so I order the cheesecake and Sally orders the chocolate cake. “You might not want to order both” the waitress warns. The arrival of Sally’s cake proves her right.
We return to the truck – me in mild pain having helped Sally rather too enthusiastically with her cake. It turns out the town was built by Norwegians. Everything seems Norwegian. We stop by a general store and everything on sale is northern European. If they couldn’t find it from Norway they brought in the equivalent from Denmark or Germany. They have a very impressive wall of imported ales from all over northern Europe. They all look good. If I lived there I would just start at the top left and work my way along.
We take another route back to the camper – through what is clearly an HOA housing suburb. It is extremely pretty and well kept; but I can feel the curtains twitching as we walk through, slightly sweaty and heavily sun-tanned in our now quite creased clothing. “Gerald, look, who are these people? What do you think they want? Have you locked the gate to the yard?”. Just as well we didn’t attempt to park the truck camper there.
We drive over the Tacoma Narrows bridge – it is much more stable than the original – and the GPS guides us to PJ’s house with ease. PJ is out being payed to play with boats (actually taking some customers on a dinner cruise), so Marcie meets us and we back up into PJ’s regular parking spot on the front yard and plug into his electricity.
Marcie generously offers us the use of their washing machine for our laundry and shower for our weary bodies. This was a real luxury. I don’t mean to imply we have gone without showers, but showering in an RV isn’t quite the same, and campground showers, although functional, aren’t really places you want to spend much time.
I am glad we have already packed a lot of Chet’s belongings. We now don’t have much left to pack. The Jeep soft top fits nicely into my big yellow holdall with plenty of space around it to pack other items, so the box it came in is pressed into service to pack more of Chet’s stuff.
We leave Chet a few bits we had bought that we couldn’t take back, like the can of bear spray, a comforter and a cheap thermos flask. You never know when these might come in useful boondocking, just don’t mix up the first and last items when feeling thirsty. We leave the cheap camping chairs we had bought with Marcie in the hope that she could donate them, e.g. to a church charity.
This will be our last night in the camper.
