Tag Archives: washington

Backlighting Devil’s Club Overhead

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Devils club leaves photographed by Lorelle VanFossen backlit in the forest.

Traveling to Seattle, a friend and I went to the John Bastyr School for one of their health and herbal festivals. A nature walk through the forest next to the campus intrigued me. It was incredibly informative, discussing how to use plants in the wilderness for medical treatments and health.

The Pacific Northwest forest was dappled with sunlight and the treacherous Devils Club hung over our heads at one point in trail. I worked around the group trying to get a good angle on the plant to capture the details with the strong backlighting.

The Devil’s Club is one that I’ve run into since a child digging around the forests of the Pacific Northwest, and trust me, this is one you do not want to stumble into. Called the Devil’s Club or Walking Stick, it can grow up to 16 feet (5 meters) tall in rainforests and damp environments to which Western Washington is well equipped. Spines are found not only on the stems but the leaves, making it a painful experience to touch in any way, even brush against.

According to our guide, Native Americans used Devil’s Club for medicine to treat diabetes, tumors, chapped lips, and tumors. It can also be used as an analgesic, though it isn’t as strong as traditional aspirin. It can be used in herbal teas and he said that they ate it as food. He didn’t clarify which part they ate, from the red fruits that form in clusters off stems that look like clubs, or from the leaves or root.

For me, this is a plant I’ve endured most of my life, having spent too many hours pulling its little thorn-like spines from by arms and legs and out of my dogs. Still, it is a magnificent examples of the unusual in the world. A plant I think of when I imagine what plant life was like during the dinosaur times.

The Bridge Over La Conner, Washington

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Bridge over La Conner, Washington, by Lorelle VanFossen

I’m a little uncomfortable sharing this photograph. My cousin, Don Lee, looks at this view daily. It’s his favorite in the world, right outside his home in La Conner, Washington. Helping him with his photography, I encouraged him to photograph it every day as a photo montage for a year. If you sat only a few minutes with him you would completely understand why I gave him the assignment as he speaks about the bridge, the river below, the town beyond, and Mt. Baker beyond that, like it’s a personal and intimate friend, with mood swings and attitude.

We were having a discussion about this very scene when the stormy weather shifted and the setting sun burst through with golden rays, turning the bridge the most brilliant shade of orange. I grabbed my camera and the two of us photographed this monument to man’s power to defy a river.

Don, I know my picture is humble. Your work is phenomenal and someday I hope you exhibit the entire year’s worth of pictures of the bridge across the channel to La Conner.

Ye Old Curiosity Shop in Seattle

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Ye Old Curiousity Shop on Seattle Waterfront with Dave Moyer - by Lorelle VanFossen

Ye Old Curiosity Shop along the Seattle waterfront at Pier 54 has been a touch stone for me growing up. I visited often as a child and loved heading over there when I was working across the street from the Seattle Ferries. Returning to Seattle recently, I was delighted to return to a favorite landmark with my friend and business partner, Dave Moyer.

The shop used to be packed with novelties, cheap toys, and a ton of ancient artifacts from the Pacific Northwest and further abroad including Sylvester and Sylvia, two human mummies, major attractions for many years.

Estimated to have more than a million visitors every year, Ye Old Curiosity Shop was founded by J.E. “Daddy” Standley in 1899 as a shop for curios and Indian goods. Over the years, the shop has shifted from handmade objects, including baskets made by the daughter of Chief Seattle, Princess Angeline, to trinkets from China and Taiwan. At one time, you could buy a totem pole or fascinating handmade carving or beaded purse. While a few lovely handmade items are still available, most of the items for sale are dedicated to the cheap tourist.

The store wasn’t always on the waterfront. It was originally at Second and Pike, moving to the waterfront when the Washington State Ferries rebuilt much of the dock system around them. In 1963, they moved onto Pier 51 and in 1988 moved to Pier 54 next to Ivar’s Acres of Clams. According to Wikipedia, over a million objects were moved to the current location. Continue reading →

The Troll Under the Aurora Bridge, Seattle

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Seattle Troll under the Aurora Bridge photograph by Lorelle VanFossen

I lived for many years on the north point of the Aurora Bridge in downtown Seattle, Washington. In 1990, neighborhood arts programs brought a long time childhood bedtime story – or threat – to life under the bridge.

Growing up as a native of Washington, specifically Seattle, parents threatened their children with punishment from the troll living under the Aurora Bridge. It’s real name is The George Washington Memorial Bridge, but this famous bridge built in 1932 was part of the long Pacific Highway – US Route 99 that ran from Mexico to Canada, later replaced by Interstate 5. The bridge was named for the first president of the United States as it was opened on his bicentennial anniversary of the president’s birth, part of a huge nationwide celebration.

Transients lived under the two ends of the bridge for many years. Building the giant cement troll called the Fremont Troll, grasping a VW Bug in one hand, brought a lot of attention and no room for the homeless under the north end of the bridge.

The first time I encountered the troll, I’d heard about it and was out driving at night to find it. I drove up from the road under the bridge from the canal waterfront and my headlights reflected in a huge reflective headlight at the top of the hill which turned out to be the single visible eye of the troll. It loomed up at the top of the hill in the dark recess of where the bridge connected with land, an intimidating and frightening sight.
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Journal: December 18, 1996 – Friday the 13th The Journey Begins

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The following is a draft of chapter one of our book, Home is Where Lorelle Is about what started as a one year life on the road experience that turned into almost 16 years living on the road traveling across the planet.

“What you’ve done becomes the judge of what you’re going to do — especially in other people’s minds. When you’re traveling, you are what you are right there and then. People don’t have your past to hold against you. No yesterdays on the road.”
William Least Heat Moon, Blue Highways

Journal: Friday the 13th
Junction City, Oregon
December 18, 1996

He thought we were coming back. From the tightening in his eyes, his face growing pale in the truck’s side view mirror, I could tell he now knew the truth. We weren’t coming back. We were gone.

After 18 months of hard work and preparation, we were not coming back. Not for a long time. As I crept further down the street, feeling the weight of the trailer pulling backwards on the truck towards the lone man standing in the road, I tried to resist a last glance behind.

I couldn’t.

I could see the realization hit him hard. He was starting to shake, his hand still out stretched where I had grasped it through the open window as the the truck has rolled past him. Not only was he growing small in perspective, he seemed to shrink even smaller, tears running down his face. I wanted to stop and run back to assure him. Really, you’ll be okay without me. The stronger side of me screamed, “Get the fuck out of here!” So, I kept moving, leaning forward with the effort to drag the trailer forward, down the road before me, leaving my father behind me.

I couldn’t cry. I couldn’t feel. Every moment leading up to this one had been a struggle. Nothing came easy. Even today, everything was just too complicated, too many obstacles thrown in the path of our life on the road. Vowing to leave well before noon, here I was, crawling through the heavy late afternoon rush hour traffic of Snohomish County towards Seattle along Interstate 5, caught up with everyone moving in and out of Everett, to and from Seattle, and the bedroom communities in between. One giant truck and trailer heading out of town among commuters heading home.

December 13, 1996. Friday the thirteenth.

Was this an omen? If I were a superstitious person, what impact would leaving everything I’d ever known behind on such a traditionally ominous day mean? A sign from the gods that we must be crazy? Or a prophecy predicting that if we could survive hitting the road on a Friday the thirteenth, the rest of the trip would be a breeze? Little did I realize that the former was our destiny.

The winter evening’s freezing temperatures turned to ice as I suffered the honks of cars trying to move around the lumbering trailer through my childhood city home of Everett towards Bothell and waiting husband and friends. Eagles and hawks sat on the tops of many of the fence posts along I-5 as it crossed the Slough, the strange mix of salt and mountain fresh water where the Snohomish river system and Port Gardner Bay and the Puget Sound mixed together. Normally, the beautiful twists and turns and mudflats of the slough along and under the interstate would relax me, but the tension was so great, I let the physical and mental strain of driving such a big rig fill my head. Don’t think about anything but what you’re doing. Concentrate on the traffic. Think ahead down the road. Be prepared for the lane to end up ahead. Find a wide break in the lane next to you. Watch out for the idiot cutting in front. Doesn’t he know that the weight of the trailer behind this truck increases the time to come to a stop by – Brent’s not here to do the numbers for me so I just comfort myself with curses under my breath and ease off the gas to let the driver think he’s safe from me. For the moment.

Brent and I said our goodbyes over the past year to friends and family. We were ready to leave. Well, at least I was. Brent was still mentally chained to his 8-5 job with Boeing. For four years we’d planned this down to the finest detail, revised the plan, changed details, then changed them some more as we realized we needed more flexibility in our schedule to give us a chance to enjoy the process and not race from place to place across North America for the next year. Our goal was to be in the perfect nature place at the perfect time to photograph the perfect nature, and seasons and nature do not pay attention to maps nor convenience to two 30-somethings traveling around in a 30 foot fifth wheel trailer. Continue reading →

Spokane, Washington, and Meeting More Family

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I knew that this trip to take my father back home to Seattle would feature some genealogy research for our family tree, but I had no idea how far this would go.

We met with my husband’s family in Ohio, then newly discovered members of my father and my family in Michigan, and today I spent with relatives of my mother, learning about the other side of my family tree. Wow!

My relatives in Spokane have saved tons of documents, letters, essays, and notes from their family members now past, including fabulous stories of growing up in Michigan and making the long trek to Washington State, and making their way in the new Pacific Northwest Frontier. I’ve copied hundreds of pages and can’t wait to read through them and learn about life 40, 50, 60, and even 100 years before I was born. I’ve learned that I come from a long family of storytellers.

I will be starting a website soon dealing with my family roots, tree, and genealogy, so stay tuned for news. This has been very exciting and I’ve been learning so much about my relatives and the pursuit of genealogy, a hobby I’ve dabbled in since I was a young teenager. So I’m looking forward to sharing the new things I learn with you and other family history researchers.

So we’re almost home. I’m tired beyond imagination. I have barely slept during this entire trip, and not much during the past few months, monitoring my father’s odd nightly habits and alert to his wandering in the night. While I may not have children, I’ve definitely experienced what it is probably like having children with long nights of constantly waking up to check, feed, and change them. It isn’t the same, but there is a familiarity with the sleepless nights and exhausting days, according to friends.

I just want to get to my mother’s, sleep for three days, and then spend 3 hours soaking the filth of travel off of me. I’ve gone three to five days without a shower during this trip, pushing my normal cleanliness limits. The longest before was 4 days and we were in the backwoods. I is stinky!

I have been productive during this long trip across the United States, so look forward to tons of articles and series coming at you soon.