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Welcome to Bellingham, NOW GET A BIKE!
Words from Bellingham Local Josh Poulsen & a bike.
Nestled almost dead center between Seattle and Vancouver, B.C. is a little town on the edge of Bellingham Bay that I like to call home. Drawing from two large populations, Bellingham is a melting pot of Seattle cubicle runaways and Canadian visitors taking advantage of the decreasing U.S. dollar at the mall. It is town where on any given day you can run into all walks, or in some cases, stumbles of life. Even easier than running into strangers, you can find yourself running away to the surrounding mountains of true northwest beauty. In B-ham, as we call it, outdoor activities are limitless and complimented by its surrounding terrain. Whatever blows your hair back… you can find it here. Biking for every cyclist and enough snow capped mountains to keep the winter minded folks cold and content all summer long. The Wilderness areas of the North Cascades National Park are for those who like to get off the beaten path. Our beautiful bays and sounds keep sailors lost in the wind on the sea among the hundreds of San Juan Isles. Other water sources, like the lakes and rivers are fun to swim, wakeboard or kayak. To us, the true greatness of our beloved town can be found in the deep woods of the National Forests.
Our forests reflect the northwest’s logging heritage of destruction and beauty. From a distance all you see are large conifers standing tall like mammoth soldiers, bearing their shields of large branches that reach and hold one another; making their wall of defense nearly impenetrable. Tasteless brown battered sections of mountains bear the scar of a recent logging outfit and defy all odds against the tree and prove their fall to the axe. The forests press on though, sprouting from stumps and seeds lying dormant in the earth, again repairing their ranks and regenerating their shields. Once inside the ranks and among the feet of these giants, it’s easy to see why they keep guard over a place such as this. For it is Washington, green and alive! Into the woods and off the beaten path, you’ll find this spot to be that of a fictional place. So many variations and shades of one color, you’d think you were shopping for paint. The forests are greener then a CEO’s pocket from an Obama bailout plan. It’s a never-ending combination of trial and error for the struggle of sunlight, resulting in lush canvases of brilliant moss. They take you back to a prehistoric place where you imagine that you’d see giant rodents from the Princess Bride, or fuzzy E walks from Star Wars swinging from vine to vine. The moss so deep you’d easily lose a shoe or two, and definitely, that small dog in your girlfriend’s purse. Trees so large you’d be convinced they are the cousins of the giant sequoias of California (they are), and next to these giant trees, you can find stumps so large you would think they had been there before the pyramids (some of them have). Take a walk through these woods and it will feel as if you are inside the story of an overly descriptive author who drags on and on for pages and pages trying to create the perfect image in the readers head of “where” it is that you are. Only in the northwest can you discover an idea of what these forest hold within them.
If the woods or outdoors aren’t your cup of “green” tea, you can always head downtown and enjoy the sights, scenes, and stores of local and foreign cultures mingled all throughout Bellingham. Starting in April and ending near Christmas look for The Bellingham Farmer’s market. Located off Railroad Ave in downtown at the Depot market square, you will find vendors of handmade pottery, cheese, kettle corn, nuts, fresh seafood and loads of samples that would put the old ladies in Costco out of business. All of which declare what seems to be one of the most important words in Bellingham. Local. Speaking of local, across the street from the Farmer’s Market is a great place to grab one of the many locally brewed beers at Boundary Bay Brewery & Bistro, one of the many great food and drink destinations in town. Downtown can be a pain to navigate by car, especially if you’re not used to all the one ways, which will surely leave your head bobbling in both directions. Your best bet, as always, is to park your car, if you are lucky enough to find an available space. But don’t forget about the meter! The parking enforcement officers are sneaky and fast on their little three wheel utility vehicles due to their low emissions and high fuel economy which allow them to get around quickly. But the quickest and lowest emission transportation chosen by most Bellingham locals is the bicycle. Bike lanes, paths, and shortcuts, in addition to plenty of empty spaces on the many bike racks located at almost all the storefronts, make bikes the vehicle of choice. Here among the racks, bikes proudly display their miles of travel and versatility. There are many bikes retrofitted with old buckets to carry groceries or furry travel companions to and from home, work or bars. Some are very clever, with configurations of buckets, crates, and old kitty litter boxes. Not what I would choose to put my groceries in but, nonetheless, displaying the creativity and resourcefulness of the citizens of Bellingham. I stopped to admire one particular bike and its craftiness, as it leaned against the iron bike rack. It seemed to move slowly, just slightly, almost breathing. My eyes walked up and down almost judgingly, as I stared and inspected its awesomeness. It didn’t take long to come to the verdict that this bike was the two wheeled version of ‘chitty chitty bang bang!’ It turned out to be a Rocky Mountain hardtail with more flare than a Chotchkie’s Employee. As I sat there admiring this old bike, I started to imagine it had a journal, and I read its first page:
I sit winded — gasping for air, balanced only by the abrasive iron bike rack on one side of me. Finally, a rest from six miles in the rain and half a mile up streets so steep they should have stairs on the sidewalks. Climbing up and up to the top of campus, which sits on what seems the tallest hill. Finally, the top is reached. Phil is the less than healthy lad who powers me. I am his noble steed. Been with him since his first day at WWU. We crest the hill and Phil pulls heavy on my brakes. Slammed hard against the rack outside the Lecture hall and left, unlocked, to defend for myself amongst many other bikes. Luckily, I’m next to a nice shiny yellow Bianchi, a decoy. I rest easy as I try to catch my breath before it’s time again to roll Phil across these slippery streets of Bellingham. My tires are worn from the miles of paved bike lanes, my paint is chipping from the rocks kicked up on the bike path, my wheels are out of true and that big dent in my rear rim from a ladder drop onto a rock last week on Galbraith mountain still hasn‘t been fixed. I‘ve seen all 43 miles of single-track on that mountain. I hear from the other bikes in the rack that there is more to come on “Galby“ as they call it. Atomic dog is the newest they say. Sounds scary. My spokes are still shaking from the steep trails off of Mt. Baker Hwy. That was months ago. Thank goodness Phil only took me down one of those trails; judging by the rest of the bikes that day, I was out of my league.
Out of the lecture hall Phil comes with a heavy bag full of books; with a swift swing of his leg over my saddle, we are on our way once again. This time downhill, thank goodness! That break wasn’t long enough at the lecture hall. 6 a.m. is early, even for a bike. We arrive in front of the Food Co-op and I’m back on the rack. I want to yell out, “lean me against a different-” but he’s in the door and out of sight before I can even speak. Dang man, dang! Too many fixies on this rack. It’s as if they all have these obscure bumper sticker quotes stuck all over them. We’re bikes, not bumpers! Geez! Look at that one. It has a sign stuck in it’s spokes that says “!raW sihT potS”. What the hell does that mean? All the crazy combinations of colors that would make even a tropical fish blush; all with the intent to try to make them look unique. And their riders, now those are unique! I try not to pass judgment, but fixies are the new rollerblades. Out of the co-op with coffee in hand comes Phil. This is the best part of my mornings. That warm coffee mug in my cup holder just warms my soul to the spokes. Across, down, and onto the bumpy gravel path of Bellingham’s interurban trail system. It’s a gravel hiking and biking path connecting Fairhaven and almost all of Bellingham, including the downtown area as well as parks. Phil takes a short cut off the trail and into the woods for a bumpy ride to the yard. OUCH — hot coffee on my back! A drop in the grass in the front yard, my back tire still spinning as Phil runs inside to shove a pair of swim shorts and a flip flops in his pack as my rear hub clicks slowly to a stop. Nalgene in hand, Phil jumps over the railing and off the porch into the yard to pick me up and we are on our way again. All that energy only means one thing — he’s headed to Galbraith Mountain, the largest public mountain bike area in Washington State. Thank goodness it’s within city limits and not far from home. A short easy ride and we hit the trails and are on our way up some of the buffest flowing single-track that my short travel fork has been blessed to witness. A quick up the ridge trail and down the famous SST trail just off the Birch street entrance and I’ve had all the air time my shaky spokes can handle. SST rides almost always end at Whatcom Falls Park. It is a 264-acre park encompassing four large waterfalls and Whatcom creek, which drains from Lake Whatcom and into Bellingham Bay. I‘m surprised Galbraith isn‘t called Whatcom Mountain. Can‘t they find another name for things? A quick jump off a waterfall and a swim is Phil’s favorite way to cool off. I wish he’d take me with him off that thirty foot cliff….I could use a wash. Haven’t seen one since he rode through the neighbors sprinkler last month and all that did was give me a squeaky chain. He’s back in a few minutes and we are on our way once again. This time it’s down to the waterfront district for the happy hour specials that Phil never seems to miss. Calamari and crab cakes with a nice cold beer to wash it down. Hopefully he skips on the bean dip; it turns Phil into an audible pedaler. I can definitely tell when the hills get steep. I like it when he gets cramps and has to get off and walk for a bit. We make a quick dash uptown and he remembers for the first time today – locked — to the rack outside the bar. I stay there till sunrise. What a view as the sun’s rays, warm and bright, slice between the buildings like a slow moving laser, cutting away the cold and boiling the water into vapor as it rises slowly like smoke off the streets of early morning Bellingham. The seagulls high pitched call breaks the silence along the bay, like a rooster at dawn. Phil’s late for his 6 a.m. lecture.
Bellingham is all about community events that bring people together. It’s what makes Bellingham such a welcoming place whether it’s in celebration or in competition. In one case, its both. The Ski to Sea Festival every Memorial Day weekend is just such an event. It consists of a ninety-mile relay race, a historical hometown parade, an art show, a YouTube video contest documenting the day’s race and many other special events sure to keep you entertained for all three days of the festival. The Ski to Sea relay race begins at Mt. Baker ski area in a cross country skiing leg, followed by downhill skiing/ snowboarding, running, biking, two person canoeing, mountain biking, and sea kayaking, as the competitors paddle across the finish line in Bellingham Bay. It’s a race that started in 1911 with only 12 participants. In 2009 with 402 finishing teams of eight members per team, it’s easy to see this is “the” event of the spring. It’s events like these, in a community like this, which turn Bellingham from a place to visit into a place to live, as is often heard from the inhabitant’s stories. If you haven’t heard, seen, or been to Bellingham, it is a place to add to your next road trip! Just don’t forget your bike!
