OK, that's enough of the deep and meaningful stuff, I'm starting to sound like a chick. Back to the travelogue. I decided Seattle looked interesting enough to spend a weekend in, so I did. Starting with a trip on the bus. I reckon you get to the core of a place on its public transport, and you see how it works and what it really looks like. Mind you, I soon found out why everyone drives in this country. For a start, my motel was on a main road, normally a good thing for the bus. But this weekend, they had a big roadwork job happening further up the street, and there was a big detour, which created local chaos and long delays. Anyway, I eventually got into the downtown area, after sitting next to a guy in a clown outfit, who kept silently handing flowers to females that got on the bus. Well, I guess there's no law against it. And another thing. I soon picked up on the fact that medical cannabis is legal in this state. My observations lead me to conclude that a lot of people around here must have glaucoma.
I headed in to the Pike Place Market, a big weekend attraction. The first thing I saw was a guy on a corner, holding a big cardboard cutout of a surfboard, on which was written "Need money for weed". The guy was already whacked out of his skull, and was having such fun, he was quite unaware his cash repository was totally empty. Never mind. The market was fun, and the buskers were really very good, nothing like the lame excuses for talent who expect people to give them money in Adelaide. There was an exhibition of Aboriginal art on display at one of the main Gallerys. Drawing a bit of a crowd too, but I was unlikely to pay the going rate to see where some pissed abbo dropped his/her toothbrush three thousand times. There was also an exhibition at another gallery featuring actual stuff from Tuthankamun's tomb. That was tempting, but I continued my explorations. I did take a snap of the Space Needle, but I was looking for a different angle. I decided to go with the illusion of making it look like it was sprouting from someone's chimney. On top of that piece of skullduggery, by sheer coincidence, I also managed to snap a small float plane full of explosives and flown by Islamic extremists, just before it hit the Needle. Its in all the papers. However, I decided to get the bus back to my digs. In the 65 minutes I waited at the bus stop, I was hassled by all manner of social refuse going about their business loudly and very publicly. Where's a taxi when you need one?
Next morning, Sunday, I had a tour booked at the Boeing plant at Everett, about 30 miles north of downtown Seattle. The fact that it was raining was not a good start, but I rode out there anyway. They are understandably very security conscious, and visitors are not allowed to take anything into the plant except the clothes on their back. So sadly, I have no photos, except the ones I took with my button camera, and they have already been sent to Airbus Industrie. Anyway, I had to stash all my wet riding gear into a locker, which was messy. Notwithstanding, this tour was just fantastic. For a start, the assembly building is the biggest building by volume in the world. A lazy 13 million cubic metres. And I was more than a little preoccupied with using all my structural engineering expertise to work out how the hell the thing was even standing. You could work in there for a lifetime and still not meet everyone else! The guide knew her stuff, and continually spouted a stream of impressive statistics. One does tire a little of the Yanks telling everyone else how they own the biggest and best of everything, but the fact is, they're often right. And we Aussies don't mind doing it either, when we have something to crow about. So I go with the flow a bit on this issue.
The tour covered the assembly lines for the 747 series 8, the 777 and the Dreamliner, or 787. The fact that machines of such complexity can be mass produced on moving production lines is itself mind boggling. The fact that planes keep getting bigger, but also more efficient is testament to the engineering involved, and to the collective skill of the many people who work here. In the case of the 787, parts are actually made and partly assembled in several countries, then flown into Everett on four specially modified 747's which resemble distended whales, for final assembly. I noted that the base price of your average passenger jet is something like $300 million dollars. Then if you want engines, you pay more, about fifteen to twenty million more, per engine. Most purchasers apparently opt for the engines. This is known as leverage. And the final sting is that Boeing only give you a third of tank of fuel anyway. Then I put all my wet riding gear back on rode back to the motel, in the rain, naturally.
I left Seattle the next morning, musing that the business to be in around here is definitely the tattoo business, everyone's got em, and at the same time wondering how the hell it stopped raining long enough for anyone to build anything. I took the ferry from Edmonds, across Puget Sound to Kingston on the Olympic Peninsula, intending to check out the Olympic National Park. Here I got my first look at what passes for a beach in this part of the world. Check out this piece of misery. Grey skies, drizzling rain, slime covered rocks and lumps of wood on the shore. Just like Alaska.
However, on the other side, I soon reached a nice little spot called Port Something Or Other which looked too good to be true, a bit like a movie set or a paint commercial. All picture postcard perfect.
Washington State is known as the Evergreen State, and its not hard to see why. The west side of the Peninsula gets an average rainfall of 140 inches per year. I need more rain like a hole in the head, but I am heading west anyway. Adios, amigos.
I headed in to the Pike Place Market, a big weekend attraction. The first thing I saw was a guy on a corner, holding a big cardboard cutout of a surfboard, on which was written "Need money for weed". The guy was already whacked out of his skull, and was having such fun, he was quite unaware his cash repository was totally empty. Never mind. The market was fun, and the buskers were really very good, nothing like the lame excuses for talent who expect people to give them money in Adelaide. There was an exhibition of Aboriginal art on display at one of the main Gallerys. Drawing a bit of a crowd too, but I was unlikely to pay the going rate to see where some pissed abbo dropped his/her toothbrush three thousand times. There was also an exhibition at another gallery featuring actual stuff from Tuthankamun's tomb. That was tempting, but I continued my explorations. I did take a snap of the Space Needle, but I was looking for a different angle. I decided to go with the illusion of making it look like it was sprouting from someone's chimney. On top of that piece of skullduggery, by sheer coincidence, I also managed to snap a small float plane full of explosives and flown by Islamic extremists, just before it hit the Needle. Its in all the papers. However, I decided to get the bus back to my digs. In the 65 minutes I waited at the bus stop, I was hassled by all manner of social refuse going about their business loudly and very publicly. Where's a taxi when you need one?
Next morning, Sunday, I had a tour booked at the Boeing plant at Everett, about 30 miles north of downtown Seattle. The fact that it was raining was not a good start, but I rode out there anyway. They are understandably very security conscious, and visitors are not allowed to take anything into the plant except the clothes on their back. So sadly, I have no photos, except the ones I took with my button camera, and they have already been sent to Airbus Industrie. Anyway, I had to stash all my wet riding gear into a locker, which was messy. Notwithstanding, this tour was just fantastic. For a start, the assembly building is the biggest building by volume in the world. A lazy 13 million cubic metres. And I was more than a little preoccupied with using all my structural engineering expertise to work out how the hell the thing was even standing. You could work in there for a lifetime and still not meet everyone else! The guide knew her stuff, and continually spouted a stream of impressive statistics. One does tire a little of the Yanks telling everyone else how they own the biggest and best of everything, but the fact is, they're often right. And we Aussies don't mind doing it either, when we have something to crow about. So I go with the flow a bit on this issue.
The tour covered the assembly lines for the 747 series 8, the 777 and the Dreamliner, or 787. The fact that machines of such complexity can be mass produced on moving production lines is itself mind boggling. The fact that planes keep getting bigger, but also more efficient is testament to the engineering involved, and to the collective skill of the many people who work here. In the case of the 787, parts are actually made and partly assembled in several countries, then flown into Everett on four specially modified 747's which resemble distended whales, for final assembly. I noted that the base price of your average passenger jet is something like $300 million dollars. Then if you want engines, you pay more, about fifteen to twenty million more, per engine. Most purchasers apparently opt for the engines. This is known as leverage. And the final sting is that Boeing only give you a third of tank of fuel anyway. Then I put all my wet riding gear back on rode back to the motel, in the rain, naturally.
I left Seattle the next morning, musing that the business to be in around here is definitely the tattoo business, everyone's got em, and at the same time wondering how the hell it stopped raining long enough for anyone to build anything. I took the ferry from Edmonds, across Puget Sound to Kingston on the Olympic Peninsula, intending to check out the Olympic National Park. Here I got my first look at what passes for a beach in this part of the world. Check out this piece of misery. Grey skies, drizzling rain, slime covered rocks and lumps of wood on the shore. Just like Alaska.
However, on the other side, I soon reached a nice little spot called Port Something Or Other which looked too good to be true, a bit like a movie set or a paint commercial. All picture postcard perfect.
Washington State is known as the Evergreen State, and its not hard to see why. The west side of the Peninsula gets an average rainfall of 140 inches per year. I need more rain like a hole in the head, but I am heading west anyway. Adios, amigos.
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