My Day Began Early

A frosty dock. Bellingham, Washington

The smudged reflection is caused by a patch of ice. Bellingham, Washington

At dawn I stole a kiss as the bus idled and diesel fumes crowded out the crisp NW air. Sue disappeared behind the idling beast but I could hear her pleasant greeting to the driver. In a few hours she would be thirty thousand feet in the sky, a few more will place in Philadelphia, and a couple hours after that she’ll be walking down a street in Albany, New York.

Crab pots line the dock. Bellingham, Washington

Crab pots stacked and ready. Bellingham, Washington

A crab’s eye view. Bellingham, Washington

Going back home didn’t feel right so I drove to a marina on Bellingham Bay to breath some more of that crisp NW air. I shifted into park and turned off the engine. To the east, just beyond a smoke stack belching clouds of steam and to the right of snow capped Mt. Baker, the sun climbed over a ridge and into the cloudless glacier blue  sky. Scattered about the parking lot were late model, high mileage pickups dressed in dirt, dents and bumper stickers. I suspect they belonged to the same men who owned the mountains of crab pots that erupted from the asphalt and were piled five to seven high on the docks. As I stepped out of the car I was stunned by the cold, it was much colder on the waterfront than back at the bus stop. The docks were frosted like beer mugs. For an hour I walked the docks attempting to capture the glow of the boats in the morning light and their reflections on the still waters, by the end my fingertips where white and ached from the cold.

Morning coffee with the skippers. Bellingham, Washington

I think he’s a fisherman. Bellingham, Washington

I ducked into “the Web Locker” for warmth and breakfast. The Web Locker occupies a corner of a long, L-shaped dock building; the diner appears to be an afterthought, as if it replaced a failed welding shop or sail maker. It has a cement floor, exposed ductwork that is a smidge higher than the hardware for the garage doors that form the east wall and its tables are a blend of old and new, wood and laminate. A decorator’s touch is added in the form of a couple dozen weathered buoys that once served as crab pot markers. In the corner, below the old Coca-Cola sign, sits a collection of fisherman that span a few generations, speak a blend of English and their home country language and give the diner an authentic feel. I will return.

It looks like the Alaskan Fishing Fleet has arrived. Bellingham, Washington

After a long breakfast break to thaw out I went back to the docks to collect more photos. I hope you enjoy them.

Another reason it is nice to live in Bellingham, Washington

---

‹ Traveling South By Boat –Part 4 (Coming Ashore)

Road Trip To Portland Oregon ›

---

Categories: Travel, Washington, Writing

Tags: Active Retirement, author, Blogging, Digital camera, nature, Photography, Sailing, writer, writing