Get up with the song birds, break camp with the sunrise, and head off in search of breakfast, and you might find the streets of Port Gamble, Washington deserted. It’s a long wait for the café to open; no breakfast until 9. So why not take some pictures. At the edge of town, atop the bluff, you might find these buttery daffodils blooming bright. Never mind the gray skies or still leafless maples. The old town is charming; held in a time warp by historic ordinances no doubt. You can be certain many a maid churned butter in the simple wood homes on the other side of town.
But not far from the picket fences, just down the bluff, the old industrial heart of the town still beats a sinus rhythm. It’s a weaker pulse than once upon a time, but beat it does, though signs are required for you to know that men still labor here. You’ll see signs too that someone’s work finished and their equipment was left to be oxidized by the salty sea and colonized by barnacles.
And like many of the ailing industrial sites of the timber Northwest, nature is working on reclaiming her. Near the creaks and the bangs and rattling timber chains a pair of Canada Geese find a defensible nesting site in the old port.