Burke: When there’s ample reason to visit out of season

By Tom Burke / Herald Columnist

Is there anything more forlorn-seeming than a boatyard in January?

Could be. Perhaps a ski slope in July or Monroe’s empty fairgrounds, mid-week in March.

I spent a few hours driving through the Port of Everett marina last week. In the summer it’s busy, busy, busy with plenty of cars and carts and bicycles and people. But in January there is a disconcerting void, with people-less piers, deserted parking lots, and lots of boats looking very, very empty, and very, very cold.

And wandering about all one hears are — as Paul Simon wrote — the sounds of silence.

But if you stop and let your mind wander a bit, you can hear the faint echoes of boat-engines coughing to life, the pfsssts as cans of pop or beer are opened, and the low hum of chatter as boaters and tourists mingle on the docks.

But last week, wandering around, there’s not much there except, maybe, some faint signs of a hardy live-aboarder wintering afloat; the occasional dog-walker; and covered boats moored afloat for the off-season; with the owners home praying it doesn’t freeze too hard so ice won’t be a problem.

What’s missing? Well, no one’s pushing carts laden with food and gear from their cars to their boats prepping for a cruise; no one is lounging in a comfortable cockpit sipping a gin and tonic or uncorking a jug of Portuguese viho verde; and the scads of tourists (and sailors) crowding the restaurants are absent.

There’s still the clanging of halyards slapping against their aluminum masts and the caw of sea gulls searching for a stray snack.

But something new and unexpected there is: the deep-diesel-din of Caterpillar earth-movers and tandem dump trucks working over $13 million of infrastructure for the Port’s new mixed-use marina development project, aimed at turning parking lots into the coastal equivalent of Leavenworth’s mountain tourist bonanza.

Now at the ski resorts of Mount Baker or Snoqualmie or White Pass there’s too much vitality of the summer bloom to make one feel forlorn. But there is something desolate about seeing tens (hundreds?) of thousands dollars of infrastructure sitting idle.

The difference in a ski slope in July versus mid-January is: dramatic.

And years ago, when we skied regularly with a bunch of friends in New England, we found that out, the hard way.

About a dozen of us chair-lifted to the summit of Vermont’s Killington Peak on a July day to hike down one of the runs we regularly skied. We chose a double black-diamond trail, the toughest, steepest one on the mountain. It was a mistake.

Beause our first thought when we looked down that trail was, “Damn, that’s really, really, really steep; do we actually ski down that?” Our second thought, after much downhill struggle, was that in winter it’s all smooth and groomed and serene. But in the summer the ground wasn’t smooth or groomed or serene and we were climbing ‘round countless stumps, over mounds of tangled deadfalls, and battling briars invisible in January. And walking downhill was a lot tougher on the knees than skiing downhill.

But we persisted, made it to the base lodge with only a few minor cuts and scrapes, and concluded that this was gonna be a once-in-a-lifetime-was-enough journey.

But I still can recall, 40 years later, that the difference between January and July on a ski slope is more than just the temperature and 250 inches of snow; in July there was feeling of seeing something that was best unseen.

Back at the boatyard I had a coffee at The Muse Whiskey & Coffee Bar which has transformed the iconic Weyerhaeuser building into a comfortable haven against the chill January winds. (Author’s note: I had a coffee in deference to observing Dry January.)

It was busy, but not crowded, and T.J. Rogers, the bar manager, explained how The Muse’s cliental was drawing from the entire Everett community, not just boaters, at least in January.

Business was good he said, but he was looking forward to not just the summer “crush,” but the invigoration the new development portended.

One thing puzzled me, however, as I trekked around and it’s how much money, and it’s a LOT of money, sits idle and unused for so many days and weeks a year. (Another note: our family has been boat-owning rag-sailors for close to 50 years and I became a shellback [someone who has crossed the equator on a boat] in the late ’60s.)

While I’ve struggled to correlate the “news” of tough economic times with the growth of the marine industry, and how many people own boats they don’t seem to use, I’m sure somewhere there’s an economic analysis of this phenomenon, but it’s escaped me so far. (I just know for us it was always worth the money.)

Now there’s a waiting list for moorage at Everett and the parking during the “season” is always a struggle; but in January the only struggle is driving through the flocks of “beached” seagulls who have claimed the parking lots as their own and navigating the construction detours.

But it might be worth the effort to make a visit, ending up, say, at The Muse for some “penicillin;” not to cure a winter flu but to savor a cocktail hewed from scotch, honey liqueur, lemon juice and ginger.

That’s sure to help get through “forlorn” ‘till May.

Slava Ukraini.

Tom Burke’s email address is t.burke.column@gmail.com.