Completing a Loop, Knot not yet Tied

Completing a Loop, Knot not yet Tied
Bellingham to Bainbridge Island, Washington StateAfter an enjoyable night in Bellingham, having dinner at the Boundary Bay Brewing company, great Pulled Pork Tacos and Black beans, beer so good you can chew it, wonderful full bodied and the taste excellent, here's were there approach is to render excellent examples from classic styles. In some cases--such as with thier IPA, Imperial IPA and Imperial Oatmeal Stout--they push the envelope and make a very big and flavorful brew. Like a new kind of music, it may take a few samplings to build your palette but soon you will be coming back for more. Then later that night, I was to be taken by an employee to a party, these great young woman I meet sitting at the bar, take me to the outside patio area, it's Reggie night with Hula-hoops, most much fun.
Bellingham is far enough north of Seattle, and just under the Canadian border, with the Mountains to the East, and the Sound to the west, all the usual gray skies, cool evenings, breeze from the west, the relaxed feeling of a small hip western town, without the hype, must see more, yet I feel complete this trip.
Heading south to complete the loop, getting to Bainbridge will be a loop, still not yet home.
Head down Chuckanut Drive, leaving another Paridise then down Rt. 11S, beautiful views of the sound, salt-water, this is not a large lake, pass Larrabee State Park, down off the ridge overlooking the Sound to flat farmlands, with farms and nurseries, a great 4-shot Latte and muffin to start the day, lots of potato farms here, though Blanchard, then one mile of Interstate 5S to Rt.20W heading unto Whidbey Island, stopping at the Valley Café for breakfast, one of the best I have had, except the coffee, not NW coffee, just outside of Bayview, it’s worth the stop, then on to the Island pass Deception Pass.
History:
In the spring of 1792, Joseph Whidbey, master of the HMS Discovery and Captain Vancouver's chief navigator, sailed through the narrow passage that is now called Deception Pass and proved that it was not really a small bay as charted by the Spaniards (hence the name "Deception"), but a deep and turbulent channel that connects the Strait of Juan de Fuca with the Saratoga Passage, which separates the mainland from what they believed was a peninsula (actually Fidalgo Island and Whidbey Island).

In the early years of the 20th Century, travelers of the horse-and-buggy era used an unscheduled ferry to cross from Fidalgo Island to Whidbey Island. To call the ferry, they banged a saw with a mallet and then sat back to wait.
The bridge, one of the scenic wonders of the Pacific Northwest, is actually two spans, one over Canoe Pass to the north, and another over Deception Pass to the south. Construction began in August 1934, and the completed bridge was dedicated at noon on July 31, 1935. The Wallace Bridge and Structural Co. of Seattle, Washington provided 460 tons of steel for the 511-foot Canoe Pass arch and 1130 tons for the 976-foot Deception Pass span. The cost of construction was $482,000.
In September 1982, the bridge was declared a National Historic Monument.
Down though Ebey’s Landing where Isaac Ebey, a person significant in early territorial government and the first European-American settler to claim land on Central Whidbey Island before Washington became a state; the story of settlement under the Donation Land Claim Act between 1850 and 1855; the explorations of Captain George Vancouver in 1792; and the development and growth of the historic town of Coupeville.
Continue on Rt. 20 to Keystone, take the ferry across to Port Townsend,

a place I would have liked to have stopped at the beginning of my journey, a wonderful coastal town, an annual Wooden Boat Show brings folks from all over, a beautiful red brick buildings downtown, two breweries here, Port Townsend Brewing and Water Street Brewery, and a place called the Boiler Room, a safe place for youth, a place for well being , a coffee shop and then there a Writers’ Conference, for more than thirty years, writers from across the country have gathered at Centrum in a community devoted to the art of writing and the writer’s life. Centrum is a place that encourages exploration. Participants work closely with the distinguished faculty to open doors of perception, exploring new ways of communicating. The Port Townsend Writers' Conference is guided by Artistic Director Rebecca Brown.
Down Rt.20, pass the ship building and industrial side of town to Rt. 19S, turn left to Rt.3 over the Canal Bridge, look for submarine because they are down there, occasionally pulling down a small fishing boat, on land I think we are ok, the Rt. 305 to Bainbridge Island and the sanctuary of Tom and Maureen’s house and the Yankees are in town, a bad house guest I am to leave hours after arriving for a ride to Seattle on the ferry and a baseball game.I am Bad yet Good!
One more segment to publish, Home.

Tom and Maureen are helping me leave, is it time?
61.8 mpg/ 122.2 miles traveled.

One of my many joys has been listening to DIANA JONES, notes from her website and a short poem inspired by her work: Finding the roots of her raising.
HER VOICE sounds like the smoke from a hand rolled cigarette, the day’s sweat clinging to sun-baked flesh and the exhaustion of working in a sharecropper’s dusty fields. It is old-time, perhaps even out-of-time, and it draws you in with its musky, dusky tone and emotional nuances that glow like dying coals. It is not a voice that Diana Jones found easily, but it has served her well.
A resonant vintage folk/bluegrass bender, My Remembrance haunts with its tales of displaced people, the brutality of the world, and the irrepressibility of the human spirit.
“I found my voice," she acknowledges. “Literally, found out what my voice was supposed to do - and it was in these songs, finding the stories that really resonated and felt connected to someplace deeper. And it’s funny, once I got to the truth, it was easier to write about than anything else. Not just the songwriting, either, but knowing myself in a deeper way. Once I found it, once I wrote those first few songs, they just kept coming and pouring out.”

THEY CANNOT DAM THE SKY
My name is Horse, My name is Deer, My name is Moon, My name is Fear.
What they could not take with bullets, They took with the red blankets, Scaling the skin, Boiling our blood.
When they weren't strong enough To strip the mountains of men, The white eyes Brought the brown liquid fire.
When the mountains Still held up the sky, They did the worst That can ever be done: They took our young.
Torn from their hogans, Given pirate names, Put in Jesus schools, Pounded by foreign rules.
The evil isn’t strong enough, Distance isn’t long enough, To reach behind the eyes, To make the Spirit die.
There are always the mountains and the sky. There will always be the mountains and the sky. For all the dispossessed across the world
For all the dispossessed across the world. David Matthew August 2006