Issue:
September/October 2005

Text:
Robert Smith

Photography:
Robert Smith

Geographic Region:
WA, USA

Pages:
106 - 111

Visit the gallery for more pictures

 

My first concern about touring western Washington by scooter is – what to wear? Safety is paramount of course but full leathers, armored boots and a GP replica helmet would look pretty silly on a small scooter. I check my back issues of RoadRUNNER and scan the scooter stories. Jeans, sneakers and a textile jacket seem appropriate; so that's what I choose. And a rainsuit. After all, Washington is the Evergreen State for a reason.

Second: Is a 150cc scooter suitable for a 500-mile tour? I grew up with scooters. My first motorized two-wheelers were a 125cc Moto Rumi Formichino and a Vespa 150. Although I'd taken the Vespa on rides of 50 miles or so, they were rarely free of incident: punctures, mechanical disasters, electrical gremlins. So how, I wondered, would the city-suited TN'G stand up to the rigors of the open road?

Day 1: Mainland meandering
I collect the cheery red bike from TN'G importers CMSI in Preston, a tiny town on the I-90 corridor in the Cascade foothills, and Director of Sales Rob Gates goes over the controls with me. This takes about ten seconds. Twist to go, grab both handlebar levers to stop. Simple. That said, the first few times I slow down after leaving CMSI's parking lot, I find my right foot waving over an imaginary brake pedal, and the throttle response also takes some getting used to. Because the continuously variable transmission is designed to fully disengage at idle, it needs some revs before it picks up when pulling away from a stop. But this suits the willing engine perfectly, hitting it smack in the torque curve. Within minutes, I feel completely at home.

My first day's route will take me north along the western fringes of the Cascades, crossing the Snohomish and Skagit River Valleys to Bellingham, just 20 miles from the Canadian border. After riding locally famous Chuckanut Drive, I'll spin south through the fertile farmlands bordering Puget Sound and back to Seattle.

Monroe is my first destination, a small lumber town at the confluence of the Snoqualmie, Skykomish and Snohomish Rivers, and I find it has two distinct personalities. It's the first major town on SR 2 east of I-5 on the way to Stevens Pass and most travelers simply see a gas station, motel and fast-food corridor. But the small streets off the highway feature charming coffee shops and bistros, including the Fiddler's Bluff Coffee Company on West Main Street, where I stop to thaw out. In spite of it being June, the heavy overcast, spitting rain and swirling mountain mist have chilled me to the bone.

A quick check at a gas station tells me I need Woods Creek Road to Lake Stevens. A fellow with a mellifluous name, Salem Woods, settled here in 1860, became the region's first sheriff and gave his name to the creek. I'm climbing into the wispy clouds that drape the mountain forests on a narrow winding road. But the Verona's bodywork keeps my feet and legs dry, just as a scooter is supposed to. I find I have to be careful when braking: the right lever operates the front brake, and the left lever the rear brake, but the rear brake has far more "bite" than the front, and I occasionally find myself skidding to a halt. Most motorcycles, of course, focus their braking on the front wheel, so the Verona's unusual rear bias takes a little getting used to.

Lake Stevens appears out of the gloom as a glass-calm gray plane surrounded by boathouses and holiday homes. I need to take 92 to Granite Falls, then cross-country to Arlington. In Granite Falls, I find Burn Road off Jordan Road, and I'm soon winding through farmland toward the tall trees again. Arlington, like Monroe, feeds and waters travelers, this time on State Route 9, but it doesn't have Monroe's redeeming side streets. I gas up in a 7-11, then find to my dismay it has "no public restrooms." It seems rather irresponsible to me to promote 32-ounce sodas without providing a suitable post-ingestion repository.

I join the traffic throng on 9 to Sedro-Woolley, where an intriguing sign advertising the Iron Skillet catches my eye. "Great food, lousy service," it says. I seek out the restaurant in S-W's "heritage" downtown (a work crew is busily creating some of the "heritage" features), but the parking lot is overflowing – verifying their claim I guess...

The turnoff from nine to Lake Whatcom is well marked, and I'm soon bowling through dense greenery and a persistent drizzle. Another warming coffee at Scooter Stuff keeps the chill out while I follow the winding contours of the lakeshore. This is a favorite cruising road for northwest bikers, and it gives me a chance to try out the Verona's handling, which I find surprisingly good. Most scooters are twitchy in the corners, the small wheels giving little gyroscopic stability; but the Verona's larger wheels mitigate this tendency, offering a lively but secure feeling. I enjoy bend-swinging the little bike down into Bellingham.

Away from the mountains, it's drier and warmer. I cruise the streets of the historic port and stumble on the Whatcom County Museum's motorcycle exhibit: The Good, the Bad and the Custom. Though featuring relatively few motorcycles, the museum has done an outstanding job of pulling together anecdotal accounts of early motorcycling activity in the Northwest, as well as period photographs, movies and literature. These give the exhibit a context sometimes lacking in motorcycle museums. I wish I could linger longer, but...

Through tony Fairhaven, where a double-decker bus serves as a fish 'n' chip restaurant, I search out Chuckanut Drive, a destination road for weekend riders and drivers. As I cruise along the gently winding waterfront road, it occurs to me fellow RoadRUNNER scribe Chris Myers would have a tough time here. Judging by the bivalve predilection he shared in his Florida tour story in the June 2005 issue, he'd have to try at least one of the numerous oyster bars lining the shore.

Eleven south takes me across flat farmland under high clouds and weak sunshine to Stanwood. I need the road for Silvana and Arlington, and discover I'm already on it – Pioneer Highway. I'm now in commuting range of Seattle, and the return slog downtown is tedious even though I'm going against the traffic. But this is where the TN'G comes into its own. It's easily able to keep up with the flow, and fires rapidly from a stop up to 30mph leaving most cars behind.

Day 2: Peninsulas and Promontories
I've arrived at around 10:00am, cold and wet after riding through soggy clouds on Whidbey Island, at the Keystone ferry terminal, and I have 40 minutes to wait for the Port Townsend Ferry. Casey's Cove Inn looks at least a little warmer inside, so I decide to treat myself to a hot breakfast. As I'm standing at the self-service counter, the vacuous teenage server, wearing a ball cap backwards (no doubt for hygiene reasons) sees my hesitation. "Would you like the breakfast menu?"

I select the egg, sausage and cheese muffin. "Can I get that without the cheese?" I ask. "They come ready made – we just heat 'em up." Fearing the worst, I order anyway. The sorry item is baldly presented on the same blue melamine plate it was microwaved on. The cheese has oozed onto the plate, the muffin now resembles a limp sponge, and a pungent, rancid odor hangs over the whole. Only the sausage patty is remotely edible.

The 30-minute ferry ride (my second of the day: I've already crossed from Mukilteo to down-island Clinton) spans the entrance to Puget Sound, not surprisingly a portal of strategic importance in WWII, and the nearby promontories were, at that time, well fortified. Port Townsend sits below the headland where Fort Worden remains. Now relegated to tourist status, the fort achieved more fame from Hollywood than it ever did militarily as the setting for An Officer and a Gentleman.

I try taking some photographs in Port Townsend's historic Water Street, but it's tough work snapping a good one with the proliferation of fat power lines ruining the scene. They weren't a problem but no one owned a camera when Captain George Vancouver visited in 1792, naming the harbor in honor of his friend, the Marquis of Townshend. (The silent "H" disappeared when the city was incorporated.) Now its splendid Victorian buildings, sidewalk cafes and restaurants make it a delightful destination.

I stop at the charming Wild Sage café on Adams Street for some tea to settle my stomach. Not only do they prepare my Darjeeling properly with boiling water, but it's served in a cafetiere to allow proper brewing, and with a timer so I can determine my preferred strength. Understanding the art of tea is, to me, a mark of true civilization. I bet they know how to serve a muffin too.

Leaving Port Townsend, I turn off 19, following signs for Irondale, and get on Oak Bay Road. This follows the waterfront to Port Ludlow near the Hood Canal Bridge. It's a delightful ride through a tall tunnel of evergreens, with glimpses of the sea canal beyond. I'm glad the bridge is dry and the air still – the steel-decked sections of the bridge can be treacherous in foul weather. The Puget Mill Company, later Pope and Talbot, established Port Gamble in 1853 with the construction of a sawmill. It's now the only remaining company town on Puget Sound, and the many heritage buildings provide a backdrop for period costume recreations.

I'm now on a part of the Kitsap Peninsula known as Bainbridge Island. These geographical terms lose their meaning in the Pacific Northwest as large land masses are linked together – or not – by narrow land bridges. Bainbridge Island is actually a peninsula. I'm looking for 307 to take me to Poulsbo, and from here I can track the Puget Sound shoreline to Kingston. Suquamish Road takes me through shady, unpretentious beachfront communities in the Port Madison Indian Reserve to Kingston, where I'll catch the ferry to the Seattle suburb Edmonds.

Waiting for the ferry, I reflect on the ride. Yes, the Verona was well up to the task, never missing a beat, standing up to extended periods of full-throttle operation, and with speeds topping out at around 60mph. Fuel consumption worked out at close to 100mpg.

More than that, I've rediscovered the joys of scootering.

The PensioneNichols
Sleeping in Seattle

Who would imagine that just steps from Seattle's famed Pike Place Market they could find a slice of old Europe as authentic as formaggio di Asiago or prosciutto Parmesan?

The only B&B downtown, squeezed between the bistros and bars on First Avenue in downtown Seattle, Pensione Nichols could be in Napoli itself – except that the plumbing works perfectly. An unpretentious entrance at street level opens to a broad staircase leading up to the 10 guestrooms and two 800 sq. ft. suites. Each room will take you back a half-century at least: real linen sheets, cozy comforters, a chaise longue, classic wrought ironwork furniture and wood-framed sash windows. If you're looking for a TV, look elsewhere. The telephone is in the "sitting room."

But you don't need these modern intrusions. Instead, choose a good book from the library and settle into an armchair to appreciate the natural light streaming in through the large picture windows. Or simply relax and enjoy the view overlooking Seattle's harborage and market.

I really appreciated the ease with which the stress of the day could be left at the front door as I stepped into Pensione Nichols' world of quiet and contemplation.

Need to get away from it all and still stay in the city? Call (800) 441-7125 or contact www.pensione-nichols.com