Darling & Wolf: Washington

Our first foray across the border in the US stalled literally at the border. Ordered to turn off our engine whilst talking to the border security official we were unable to turn it back on when told to park up and go inside the office. Battery problems continued we realised. Our friends at Canadian Tire charged the battery which sent us on our way but the following day it was drained again – something was clearly wrong. After adopting the conspicuously innocent smiles of people with nothing to hide we convinced the second border official to allow us into the country despite not having return flights booked. He questioned whether we had jobs waiting for us when we got home – Emma said she had an offer to return to her old job which was true but she had turned it down – I said I didn’t have anything which was definitely true. “What reason do you have to returning to the UK then?” he asked me. Well, considering I had just told him that Emma was going back to work in the UK I felt it prudent to inform him that I wanted to live with my wife and would find that difficult if I was working illegally picking fruit in the US. He let us in.

After another stop at an auto-parts store for a new battery and after Emma ‘honked for peace’ in Bellingham we set off into the wilderness of the North Cascade Mountains. Arriving after dark we pulled into an area reserved for camping next to Baker Lake. The rain became absolutely relentless – part of the romance of sleeping in a campervan has to be the sound of rain on the roof but I was concerned that we hadn’t purchased an inflatable van opting for the standard land-only model. The rain continued in the morning and would continue for almost the entirety of our visit to Washington and Oregon. No stranger to rain I didn’t mind this at first but towards the south of Oregon I could swear that my soul was wet. We headed into Seattle the next day, heavens still open. Dragging a camper into a city does limit you a little. We opted to stay at a B&B on the outskirts and bus into the centre. The B&B was less B&B and more ‘this is my spare room’. It was fine though and did the trick. The van stalled again as we tried to squeeze the van up the incredibly steep driveway. Unfortunately we were half on the drive, half on the narrow road and pretty much ruled out two way traffic. The jump starter didn’t help us either – I hadn’t had time to fully charge it before leaving so it just couldn’t get us going. Looking like a beached whale my heart started to pound a little and wasn’t assisted by the little Chinese man staring at us out the window. He obviously didn’t fancy helping. Rather fortunately through the cloud of stress I recalled that we had a second ‘house’ battery in the back of the van for powering the lights and features of the van. I disconnected this and daisy-chained it to the power pack and starter battery and managed to get us going. The years I had spent jump starting and fooling around with problematic motorcycles had paid off and we got the van up the slope, much to the nonchalance of our Chinese observer.

I think it was the stress of the van problems but Seattle kind of washed over me. We saw Pikes Place market which, by all accounts, is my idea of hell but I was determined to let Emma enjoy it. I’ve never quite understood the appeal of walking round market places with no intention of buying something. To me it is like browsing the frozen food section at Tesco, utterly depressing. To add to this there are a thousand tourists seemingly attempting to wear the same clothes as you, such is their proximity. A respite was found in Pikes Brew Pub who managed to sooth my anxieties with a float of taster beers, most of which were very enjoyable. A short visit to a whiskey bar to establish my adoration for a certain Michter’s Bourbon and a pop of the head into Shorty’s dive bar finished our evening of drinking. Back to the bus stop we went but not before buying two of the most disgusting microwaved burritos from 7-eleven. They were truly foul and for that reason also hilarious. Sure good food is great but I find the serving of diarrhoea to be incredibly amusing, even if Emma wasn’t so pleased. She still finished it though.

Pushing on from Seattle we visited Mt Rainier – an epic experience – before breaking down again just after nightfall on the edge of Yakima, a nothing town in the middle of nowhere. After signing up to AAA, being towed to a garage and spending the night locked in a yard my ‘vanxiety’ was well and truly back. A further small fortune spent the following morning we drove through the rather arid countryside past a town called Goldendale whose weather provided a delightful respite from the rain. Then we broke down again. Oh god I began to love sitting by the side of the road. We called the AAA who informed us it would be a good 3 hours before our rescue. I had tried jumping the van but to no avail. Giving it another hour I managed to get it going and we made our own way to Goldendale Exhaust, a delightful family run garage in the middle of wherethefuckamI, Washington. At least these guys seemed to actually give a shit. They replaced the alternator and the starter motor which explained why we kept losing power and couldn’t start it with 3 batteries. Having pieced the puzzle together I realised that the van just didn’t generate enough electricity to power anything but the basic electrics of the van. This meant no wipers, no fans and no lights. Later on I’d wire the house battery into the engine loop so we could power these things when we needed to but ultimately we were on crutches. I didn’t care though, the fact I knew what was wrong and what I had to do to get us moving took a weight off my mind. Whilst the guys at Goldendale Exhaust had their hands in our van I took to quizzing their young daughter about local life. Aged around 13 she had never heard of London, England or perhaps even Europe. She hung out at her grandma’s on holidays such as today (spring break) when she wasn’t at the garage. I asked about her friends and she insisted she had some but there seemed to be very few other people here of her age. Her diamante cowgirl boots and belt were an indicator that she knew exactly who she was and wanted to be and you could practically smell the pride when she showed me her first place quad bike trophy sitting next to her brother’s second place trophy. We briefly talked about guns and her related talents there but a glare from her mother who was working the reception desk told me that this was no place to question the merits and faults of the second amendment.

We drove down towards the Columbia River Gorge and spent the night at a free ‘campsite’, campsite being the chosen word to describe the forest turning circle in the middle of nowhere. That night we managed to kill a mouse we had named Chad-Allen who was tearing up our insulation. God rest his soul.

The next day we would cross the Bridge of the Gods and into Oregon. We spent a total of 5 days in Washington, not nearly enough to experience the state as we wanted to but we would visit it again on our way back north when, hopefully, the sun would be shining more often.