The most extreme northwest tip of Washington state is a place you visit on purpose and explore with pleasure.
By DAN LEETH
Published September 7, 2003
[Photos: Dan Leeth]
The final miles of highway twist and turn along the north shore of the Olympic Peninsula, in the Juan de Fuca Strait.
These visitors to Cape Flattery are standing at land’s end above the far northwestern corner of the Lower 48.
Brick storefronts decorated with flowers line the sidewalks in Port Townsend.
[Times art]
PORT TOWNSEND, Wash. - This stubby thumb on the left hand of America harbors its share of the unusual. Things seem to be out of place or stuck in time.
Visiting the far corner of the Pacific Northwest seems more like going on a journey. Mine begins on the Olympic Peninsula's northeastern tip, where Water Street in Port Townsend exudes the aura of the grand seaport it once was.
Victorian storefronts garnished with flowers line the town's wide sidewalks. But the businesses are now an array of restaurants, espresso shops, boutique hotels, art galleries and souvenir emporiums. And there is an unusual number of bookstores.
"That's because we have so many poets and writers who reside in Port Townsend," says Mary Hewitt, employed at the Waterstreet Hotel. "Did you know Frank Herbert lived here when he wrote Dune?"
A coastal town atop Washington's rainy Olympic Peninsula seems an odd location for promoting the writing of science fiction classic set in a desert.
Port Townsend has its roots in farming, logging and shipping. By the late 1800s, Washington state's second-oldest city was a thriving port. But the prosperity dwindled rapidly once railroad planners chose Seattle as the northern freight terminus for a link to the Columbia River.
But picturesque Port Townsend now is one of the few Victorian-era seaports listed on the National Register of Historic Place. The self-guided city tour takes me past scores of century-old buildings and homes displaying the grandeur of the gilded era. Many of the mansions have been converted into bed and breakfasts.
Exiting town southbound, I follow Discovery Bay to the main highway and, rather than head southeast toward Puget Sound, I turn northwest. The John Wayne Marina lies ahead.
Again, something out of place? Fans familiar with his classic Westerns, filmed in prairies and deserts, may find it hard to think of this a marina as John Wayne country. But this is where the actor loved to cruise aboard his converted minesweeper, and his family donated land for the facility that bears his name.
Please feed the bears
In nearby Sequim, I leave the main highway for a looping bypass through the Dungeness Valley. My first stop is the Olympic Game Farm, a drive-through zoo where animals roam freely and visitors remain "caged" in their cars.
This animal park began when a dairy farmer named Lloyd Beebe found he loved photographing wildlife more than he did milking cows - a fellow out of his rightful place, evidently.
Beebe became so good that he began shooting nature films for Disney Studios. His former cow pastures became a repository for critters to be used when scenes could not be shot in the wild.
"A lot of the animals are free-roaming," says game farm assistant manager Paul Jones. "There are llamas, zebras, elk, deer, buffalo." As it turns out, there are also white rhinos, yaks, prairie dogs and bison.
I buy a few loaves of bread to feed the beasts and drive through the gate. When a zebra blocks the road in front of my car, I stop. It approaches and takes the slice of bread I offer. Not satisfied, the zebra thrusts its head in the window, making a grab for the whole bag of bread. I rip it back just in time.
Geese stand beside the road watching. When I fail to toss them food, they start rapping the car with their beaks.
The Kodiak bears, which are caged, are pros at begging for food. Within open-topped pens, some sit on their haunches and wave outstretched paws. Others curl both forelegs and beg, like Fido at the table.
A farm staffer assures me that overfeeding the animals is not a problem: When the animals get full, they stop eating.
Overindulgence may not be a problem for them, but then they do not drive past the 3 Crabs Restaurant, a minor discovery I make off the beaten path.
Restaurant host Dawn Storseth explains that while early settlers first found the crabs in this Dungeness Valley, "They actually range from southern Alaska . . . into northern California."
No doubt some of them crawl around the Dungeness Spit, a 100-yard wide strand curving about 5 miles into the Juan de Fuca Strait. Waves pile ashore on the spit's northwest side while a glassy, calm lagoon borders the other. A trail leads to a lighthouse at the tip, but stuffed with seafood, I lack the ambition to walk there.
Other than landslides . . .
Looping back to the main highway, I continue westward. Ahead lies Port Angeles, the north shore's largest city, which seems crammed with car dealerships, muffler shops and strip malls. Only the jagged edge of Hurricane Ridge jutting from the Olympic Mountains to the south indicates I'm still on the scenic peninsula.
"The 72-mile road to Neah Bay is sometimes closed by landslides," Betty Warder warns me at the town's visitor center. "But it's a pretty drive, and you'll end up at the farthest northwest point in the contiguous United States."
I stop for fuel in tiny Joyce. Behind 21st century gas pumps stands the Joyce General Store and Post Office, a relic from the 19th century. Oiled wood covers its floors, mail boxes are cast bronze and its shelves are packed with an eclectic assortment ranging from spark plugs to Hamburger Helper.
"The store was brought up in pieces from Port Crescent," says owner Leonard Pierce. "This counter was from the old Olympic Park Hotel. It's probably 150 years old. The post office in the back, that's from before Lincoln was president. My father-in-law was the fourth owner of the store."
Passing a sign urging me to "Come Back And Re-Joyce," I continue on the twisting blacktop, which winds through forest and past beaches littered with driftwood and seaweed.
The place seems remote and peaceful. But the scenic glades are interspersed with patches of clear cutting, a forestry practice in which entire hillsides are denuded and reduced to stumps.
Roadside signs, however, note when various tracts of seedlings were planted. In one area dating to 1986, the regenerated forest already reaches more than 20 feet skyward.
The highway's final miles traverse wild terrain hugging the Juan de Fuca Strait.
Civilization returns at Ray's Place, which signs warn is the last chance for beer and wine before reaching the Makah Reservation, land belonging to that American Indian tribe.
Driving through the reservation, derelict houses sit by others that are well maintained. Spray-painted graffiti are everywhere.
A clerk at the Makah Museum says that in his opinion, the problem began when tribal families moved to cities around Seattle. When they returned, some brought back the urban problems of graffiti, guns and crime.
Fortunately, the museum displays earlier Indian ways. With Makah chants playing in the background, I wander past canoes hollowed from cedar trees, examine primitive fishing, whaling and sealing tools, and study artifacts recovered from a Makah village buried by a mudslide about 500 years ago.
Afterward I drive the few miles that separate Neah Bay from Cape Flattery, the northwestern corner of the Lower 48. I take in the view from a hilltop overlook.
Below lies Tatoosh Island, a flat-topped slab rising a half-mile offshore. A 65-foot-tall brick lighthouse, now automated and unmanned, sits on it. Below, Pacific waves crash the cliffs and a pride of sea lions bask on shoreline rocks. Across the strait looms the dark, distant mass of Vancouver Island.
Having finally reached land's end, I turn around to head back.
-Dan Leeth is a freelance writer living in Aurora, Colo.
If you go
GETTING THERE: There is regular air service between the Tampa Bay area and the Seattle-Tacoma Airport, where car rentals are available.
From Seattle, Port Townsend can be reached by driving Interstate 5 south to Olympia and taking U.S. 101 north to State Road 20, which leads into town.
For a coastal approach, head north from Seattle on I-5, turn west at Burlington and follow SR 20 across Whidbey Island to Keystone, where ferries depart for the peninsula.
GETTING AROUND: From Port Townsend, the 125-mile route across the top of the peninsula leads south on SR 20, then northwest on U.S. 101 to the John Wayne Marina and Sequim.
From there, the Dungeness Loop gives access to the Olympic Game Farm and the Dungeness Spit. Continuing through Port Angeles on U.S. 101, the back road route turns onto SR 112, which weaves around the coast for 61 miles to Neah Bay.
With minimal stops, the entire drive can be done in one day, but allow two days to experience the sites.
WHEN TO GO: The roads of the Olympic Peninsula are open year-round, but the winter has frequent cold rain. The best times to visit are from early spring through late fall. Whales can often be seen in the Juan de Fuca Straits in April and May. The season from Memorial Day through Labor Day generally offers warm temperatures, dryer weather and crowds.
FOR MORE INFORMATION: Contact the chambers of commerce for the various towns by calling toll-free:
Port Townsend (toll-free 1-888-365-6978, www.ptguide.com) Sequim (toll-free 1-800-737-8462, www.visitsun.com) and Port Angeles (toll-free 1-877-456-8372, www.portangeles.org) The chambers can help find lodging.
The Olympic Game Farm toll-free 1-800-778-4295, www.olygamefarm.com is at 1423 Ward Road, north of Sequim. The facility is open daily from 9 a.m., and admission is $9 for adults, $7 for kids ages 6-12 and for those 60 and older.
For nearby dining, check out the 3 Crabs at 11 Three Crabs Road; (360) 683-4264.
The Joyce General Store (360-928-3568) on SR 112 is open 8-8, seven days a week, but it usually opens early.
The Makah Museum, on SR 112 in Neah Bay, is open seven days a week from Memorial Day through mid September, and Wednesdays through Sundays the rest of the year. Admission is $4 for adults and $3 for seniors and students. Call 360 645-2711 or go to www.makah.com
