The golden beacon draws in weary travelers from the nearby interstate. With the promise of sustenance, reprieve, and clean bathrooms, the oasis calls passersby. They pull into the parking lot like moths to a light in the darkness. They seek ways to refuel their cars, their bodies, their souls. They amble up to the door with the grinning beaver, and find rest. This is Buc-ee’s, the chain of legendary Texas travel plazas.

Just north of Fort Worth, Buc-ee’s store #37 sits between Interstate 35W and the Texas Motor Speedway. Everything in this area is expansive; warehouses, airports, shopping centers of sizes only exceeded by the distance between neighbors. Each building, moated by tarmac, cuts further into the prairie and adds it to the ever expanding Metroplex. 

This travel plaza is no different. It is the second exit off the frontage road south of the intersection between I-35W and Texas Route 114. These highways are just two lanes in each direction, four counting frontage roads. But each right-of-way is over 500 feet wide. It’s not that the highways are wide now, it’s that they’re set to be much wider soon.

And Buc-ee’s will be ready. Past the towering, highway-visible welcome sign, one pulls through four bays of gas pumps, each hosting 24 separate filling stations. Both north and south of the building are full rows of parking. It is busy, as people and cars orbit the complex. This is not just a place for gas, but a destination unto itself. But just for cars. Come to find out there is a difference between truck stops and travel plazas. Who knew? Well, start with the truckers that moved everything you bought and ate this past week. They’ve been turned away at Buc-ee’s.

Inside, Buc-ee’s Fort Worth is over 50,000-square-feet of sodas, cast iron skillets, souvenirs, and smoked meats. There are displays of Buc-ee’s merchandise, including plenty of Christmas ornaments in these weeks leading up to the holiday. Full beaver onesies are available for purchase, as are ice chests, wine, and Adirondack chairs. It has four banks of soda stations, including some of the store’s own brand of real cane sugar beverages. There is a deli counter for many types of jerky. 

Across 46 active locations throughout Texas and six other, lesser, states, Buc-ee’s deals in superlatives. It has Guinness World Records for the largest convenience store and the longest car wash. Its locations have dozens of gas pumps, if not over 100, and shops of a size that rival nearby grocery stores. 

The legend of Buc-ee’s is Texas-sized too. It starts with a family, convenience store owners who decided against shoveling simple junk to travelers from their Louisiana station, but provide them with a notable, remarkable station experience. The youngest scion, one Arch “Beaver” Alpin III, got an idea to translate the family business into something bigger. In 1982, he opened his namesake station outside of Houston. As the chain has spread, its success and devotees have too.

Remember that year, 1982, when you get to Buc-ee’s. It appears on many of the shirts. And pajama pants. And commemorative cups. The store is a testament to not just quality and service, but the power of branding. The mascot beaver, who remains unnamed, extends his recognizable smile to an ever-widening “cult” following.

Half of the store is packed with the tchotchkes recognizable to any highway traveler. There are plenty of faux-hand-painted signs touting the benefits of prayer, wine, or dog ownership. There are shapely mugs and triple fleece blankets. There are outfits covered in sequin colors that exceed the human capacity for sight. There are so many ways to spend a few bucks announcing that you weren’t just at Buc-ee’s, but indeed celebrate the whole of the South and many aspects of Country Living.

The food selection is limited, but not to its detriment. A couple of racks feature the regular convenience store selection of name brand candy and chips. Move past them to where a half dozen of the hardest working guys bustle behind glass in the middle of the store, each sporting a cowboy hat and apron, doing the work of chopping beef for tray after tray of brisket, BBQ and sandwiches. 

If you get past the call of the live meat action, there are other store-brand treats to behold. Backed up to the meat counter is the counter of handmade fudges and candied nuts. And did I mention the jerky counter? It’s next to banks of soda machines with enough fountain heads to let the indulgent voices get just a little loud. “Mix in another one,” they say. And you do.

What the store lacks in brand names, it makes up for with its own personality. Being a location for drivers of large trucks to congregate, that includes an extensive selection of Buc-ee’s brand hot sauces. And the smiling mascot’s domain extends over snack foods, with the number of variants of the trademark Beaver Nuggets challenging the number of Texas counties. (254, still fewer than the number of zones in Seattle.) To describe these Beaver Nuggets as sweet is like saying The Barbie Movie is pink. Literally, it’s a puffed corn snack, and corn is the second ingredient after sugar.

This is the part where we have to talk bathrooms. And this is the part where we’re obligated to say they’re fantastic. Because they are. Regularly attended, super clean, and enough stations to handle the fact the building has almost a hundred gas pumps and just as many soda fountain dispensers. This is stadium-level capacity with luxury box quality. It’s won awards.

Which is just one reason it kinda sucks that we could never expect to see a Buc-ee’s in the city. Just once, it would be nice to head downtown or to a park without worrying about finding a clean, accessible bathroom. 

Sure, mega-gas stations are blights on the landscape, symbols of capitalist excess, and cesspools of climate terrorism. They’re frankly futureless, if we have any hope of keeping the Earth’s atmosphere from bursting into flames, or my belt from bursting holes to the next size up.

But to complain about Buc-ee’s on those levels misses the point. Buc-ee’s is a gas station and convenience store that does a really good job at both because they keep things easy. Easy to find a pump. Easy to find a clean toilet. Easy to get in for a tasty snack, soda, and commemorative cup, then back out on the road.

Urbanists really like to talk about the 15-minute city and density and activation and beautifully built places. There’s so much stuff packed into those ideas that it squishes out the ideas of ease and convenience. Sure, people who have the experience of living in the city can say it’s nice to pick up dinner on the walk home from the bus. Unfortunately, most Americans don’t get a chance to try this because the city is inconvenient, expensive, and intimidating.

We don’t need to find a Buc-ee’s on every corner, or frankly, any corner downtown. The store’s 17-acre footprint is almost the same as Lumen Field. But urbanists can do well to understand the appeal of friendly convenience. The ideals that make Buc-ee’s popular shouldn’t be poo-pooed by people who love the city, just because the shop sells Gadsden Flag insulated mugs. Tossing convenience aside — even when it comes with a 30oz soda and BBQ sandwich — it’s easy to forget that clean and friendly is nice, even for city dwellers who can’t tell their brisket from their pork butt.

Clarification: We’ve come to find out there is a difference between truck stops and travel plazas. Who knew? Well, start with the truckers that moved everything you bought and ate this past week. Apparently, commercial trucks are not allowed to park at Buc-ee’s, which has not ingratiated them with the trucking community. Do not take the “truck stop” headline literally. Buc-ee’s is a travel plaza only.

The post Buc-ee’s City-Sized Fun in a Country Truck Stop first appeared on The Urbanist.

It’s an idea we came back to after spending a few weeks in Alaska this summer. Friends, people we consider otherwise pretty smart, would hear about our travels and respond, “That’s where we’re headed when things go to hell,” or “Alaska will be the best place to wait out The End. We’re looking at places.” A good number have never visited the state in person.

I am going to be very clear here: Alaska is not your insurance policy.

For 21 days this summer, we moved into, through, around, over, and back out of Alaska. Our summer road trip took us through a thousand miles of the Inside Passage by ferry, another 4,000 miles of highway by Subaru. There were a dozen museums, twice as many gift shops, four significant hikes, 10 breweries, one distillery, and a possibly haunted hotel. Though I did purchase bear spray, we only saw a cub. But there were a family of moose and quite a few ptarmigan, the fuzzy legged chicken that’s Alaska’s state bird.

The 49th State doesn’t deserve love. It deserves absolute adoration. It’s expansive and pristine and foreboding and lush. It’s breathtaking when you can see a line of mountains behind another line of mountains, then two more ranges in the distance beyond that. Fuchsia pink fireweed spreads through breaks in the cedars, only interrupted by a braid of slate grey rivers. There are places where the road goes hundreds of miles, up and down rolling hills and around a peak, but is never interrupted by a driveway. 

Which emphasizes how empty the state is. The borough of Fairbanks-North Star has 95,000 people in an area the size of Massachusetts. The entire state’s population is less than Seattle proper, with more than half living in metro Anchorage. Everyone you meet at the bar is chatty and generous in a way that makes you think Seattle is the true ice palace. Alaskans have an easiness that comes from seeing heartiness sold as a brand, then actually having to live in the tundra. Also, they can make a mean imperial porter. 

The issue is that hearty cuts both ways. A friend described it as “rough, not in the hard sense, but in the ‘taken care of just enough’ sense.” Most of the places where we stayed had bathrooms that looked precisely like my parents had in 1990, down to the light wood wainscoting and striped wallpaper. There’s a reason they charge per minute at the campground showers in Chicken, Alaska. They cart the water in. The neighboring river is for gold prospecting. The number of convenience shops and gas stations reselling Kirkland brand everything is close to 100%. There are a lot of places where picnic tables do just fine, thank you.  

That goes, too, for much of the state’s infrastructure. The highways outside major cities are suggestions. A sign that says “dip” makes you question your relationship with gravity. “Major Damage” signs prepare you for low earth orbit. Ice heaves and melting permafrost have roadways crumbling from the inside out, and create rolling buckles that feel much like 75-cents-a-minute Poconos honeymoon hotel vibrating beds. Also, there are only five major cities on the highway loop, if you include Tok, which has good pavement for the 1,200 people living there.

So all that empty space with its people who know how to live through the harshest environmental conditions means the state is ready for continental survivors to roll on up and ride out the apocalypse. Alaska’s new motto should be “Immanentize the Eschaton, The Arctic Awaits!”

Not so fast there, Gerard Butler. The Arctic is a refuge, but not for you. While there is a lot of the state ready to accept your traveling butt (and dollars), that doesn’t mean they are prepared to accept your residential butt and the deadweight it drags behind it. Too much of the state’s infrastructure for tourists depends on the same global supply chains that bring the tourists up there to begin with. Most goods and materials arrive by ship.

Our trip took us away from those cruise docks. (One bartender in Juneau called the folks coming off the boats as “newlywed, overfed, or nearly dead.”) It was like moving through the wings of a theater when a production is underway. Talking with a few resident Alaskans, including some honest-to-goodness gold prospectors, you get the impression that there’s some sport to doing work that avoids the hardest tourist-impacted areas. Where the global travel industry touched down — Denali, Juneau, and Whittier — the cruises themselves extended onto land where packaged pieces of Alaska were readily available to be taken back on board. Benefits from all those debarked consumers doesn’t extend past a shore-leave timed walk.

Too many people go to Alaska right now to find themselves without fully knowing what they’re looking for. This is a state version of the Manic Pixie Dream Girl trope, where the protagonist is fawned over and saved by a loosely written female character whose traits are entirely defined by mismatched earrings and erratic grocery store tendencies. For many Americans, Alaska is 600-million-square-miles of Natalie Portman in Garden State.

Visiting Alaska this summer had a Last Chance to See sense to it. We dodged glacier floods in Juneau, gale force winds through the Gulf of Alaska, and wildfires and choking smoke in Fairbanks. It’s eerie to be stuck inside a museum with mammoth bones while the air quality is over 400. It started to feel like we were not far from being in the next exhibit.

These phenomenon collide in the most late-stage-capitalist ways possible. The prop bus from Into The Wild holds down one end of the beer garden at 49th State Brewing outside of Denali. The real one had to be moved from its location inside the park to a museum so people would stop needing to be airlifted from the site where Christopher McCandless starved to death. Juneau has a row of crisp-fronted jewelry stores with barkers selling “Real Alaska Gold” to cruise tourists just a block down the hill from houses crushed by falling trees. The biggest new building in Wasilla is at a Ford dealership.

Moving through Alaska can be understood in two ways. It can be seen as a wilderness adventure with vistas and overlooks that let you gaze into the human soul. Or it can be seen as a trail through a dozen different types of extraction industries, from gold to lumber to culture. Insinuating yourself can be just another way of taking from this expansive and fragile place.

Visit Alaska. Be a humble traveler and tip well. Go home. Take the heartiness you learned from Alaska and correct the issues in your neighborhood that are giving you visions of a coming apocalypse. Don’t expect the north to hold your reservation for the end of the world that you let happen.

The post Alaska Will Not Save Us first appeared on The Urbanist.

On the last Friday of July, me and my two kiddos got on the MV Columbia in Bellingham. It’s a significant boat, and one we enjoyed riding for the entire weekend. The kids are old hands at this nonsense level of travel, having endured enough cross country transits by varying modes, making Alaska their 50th state visited. But rarely do you run into something that so perfectly fits and is so appropriately used by the places it serves. 

The Days Are Just Packed

Of course, there’s no other way to start off a trip like this except wrong. From downtown Bellingham, we pulled up to the sign that said enter here if you have boarding passes. Pulled out all my papers at the kiosk, including the ones that said boarding pass. The clerk sent us over to the other building to actually get our boarding passes. 

The Bellingham Cruise Terminal is a perfectly attractive and functional building with a cafe and a gift shop. The folks at the ferry terminal are absolutely nice, printed out the same papers we had, but on official parchment, and sent us on our way. The ferry website says to show up two hours early for exactly this reason, so we were in good shape.

In its week-long loop from Bellingham to Juneau and back, the mainline Alaska ferry route has a dozen stops. Northbound, the ferry visits Ketchikan, Wrangell, Petersburg, Sitka, and then Juneau. (The lone international stop in Port Rupert, BC has been axed.) Then it goes further north to Haines and Skagway before turning and hitting the same places on the run back. We’d be taking a different boat to Haines later in the week, but first to the capital of America’s Final Frontier. 

Our ship was the MV Columbia, the largest of the mainline ferries in the fleet, a 50-year-old vessel that can hold some 500 passengers and 130 vehicles. For comparison, the biggest Washington State ferries are 50 feet longer, and can hold 200 cars and 2,500 people. Loading the two types of vessels is pretty much the same, rolling cars into the rear of the ship and settling into the hold.

It’s the same, with two exceptions. First, the vehicles headed to Alaska have to go on in the order they’re going to come off, organized by port. Second, there’s no front entrance or exit from the MV Columbia. The front of the boat is, well, boat-shaped. The other docks served by the Alaska Ferry load and unload from the sides of the ship.

Our modest Subaru was parked and dwarfed by the array of trucks, RV’s, and all-terrain camping assault vehicles also headed north. We unloaded a single suitcase of clothes, three bags of stuff to read, and a cooler of food to head to our room.

Above the car deck, there are two floors of passenger rooms. Half have two beds, half have four. All are bunks. First task was to find the purser’s desk. I knew the word “purser” existed but never thought it would impact my life in any way. They’re the person on board that handles all the money, and they hand out room assignments. They have a cute little desk at mid-deck on the first floor. It’s also where we set our clocks back an hour, because the ship stays on Alaska time.

As it was me and two teens, we cannot get away with two-bed operation anymore, so we got a 4-bunk room. Also with two teens, we cannot escape the need to shower regularly, so there is fortunately an in-room bathroom. I don’t do well with small spaces, but there was nothing about this room that was claustrophobic. It wasn’t huge or opulent, but never felt tight and it had a great window to watch the world go by.

A little after 4pm Alaska Time Friday afternoon, the engines fired up and we were on our way out of Bellingham. We joined most of the passengers on the viewing decks to wave bye to the town, then went inside when the temperature dropped 20 degrees.

The first leg of the journey is Bellingham to Ketchikan, some 660 miles. The top speed of the MV Columbia is 17 knots, or about 20 miles per hour, and a lot less when the walls of the passage get close. In all, that works out to 38 hours to the first stop, so all of Saturday was a boat day. After Ketchikan, the boat would stop every 12 hours or so, having gone another 100 to 150 miles to the next dock. We would get off Monday evening in Auke Bay, the terminal for Juneau, a total of 74 hours and close to 900 miles.

Being on any type of transportation for an entire day, ever moving and shifting and untethered, is a fascinating but exhausting experience. It’s not a state of idling that it could be, since something is always happening. Driving obviously requires attention, though it’s all sitting and fighting whether the next stop is in 100 miles or RIGHT NOW. Trains are a constant rocking and regular announcements for stops that make a routine a bit difficult. Planes, I have no idea. If I took them, I’d probably not be on this boat.

A day at sea with no imminent stops and even less internet connection requires a level of self-direction that can be hard to muster. Even when the docks started on Sunday, our schedule didn’t change. We read books, played Nintendo, and looked out the windows as the high hills passed by. The boat moved through Canadian waters, we lounged, chatted with folks in the observation lounge, and took naps. The ship veered around Prince Rupert, back to American waters and we played cards, ate some snacks, and enjoyed the maritime breeze walking the outside decks.

That’s it. That’s what it’s like to take the Alaska ferry. There is a hum, constant, as the engines push forward. The whole boat shifts when the captain announces that there are whales off one side, and everyone runs to a window to see them. Mountains roll by behind other mountains, and the fog closes in and then retreats. There are announcements four times a day that the car deck is open and people can go down to check on their pets. And the boat moves on. It is awesome.

Transition to Alaska

The Alaska Ferry, technically the Alaska Marine Highway System, is a service of the State of Alaska. Its role is to connect the dozens of towns along the fjords of southeast Alaska as well as the long Aleutian archipelago. Most years, there is also a ship that crosses the Bay of Alaska, connecting Juneau and Anchorage by water. That was scuttled this year due to staff shortages, similar to ones felt by many transit agencies.

Unfortunately, staffing shortages can be felt throughout the fleet. This was most visible in the dining room. We set aside Saturday night for a sit-down dinner. That is, I promised the kids a blow-out meal if we did four shifts of cooler meals (counting the one driving to the terminal). 

Food on the boat was a fascinating affair. The dining room opened for meals, and a line formed an hour before each shift. There was a standard list of burgers, salads, and soups as well as halibut and salmon. Both Alaskan, naturally. The ship also featured a separate snack bar that went above and beyond snacks. It’s the water station, ice cream station, and full-service short-order restaurant. The prices at both vendors are surprisingly affordable, with breakfasts and lunches around $10 each, and dinner a little over $25 per entrée.

Dining room dinner was not an easy meal. We waited 45 minutes in the line outside, then another half hour at our table to order. None of the specials were available. Half our food got forgotten, then swapped out with an alternate because they’d run out of the chowder. The waiter constantly apologized then forgot to bring another round of drinks. We are an exceptionally patient dining family, paid our bill, and didn’t go back. Tipping is not allowed, per Alaska regulations, which are posted everywhere.

The snack bar, on the other hand, made a mean fish and chips, and had plenty of ice cream. 10/10.

Between a sleeping berth and grumbling about the dining room, this is where a bunch of people are going to pipe up and say that we didn’t truly embrace the full Alaska Ferry Experience. A good number of intrepid hikers and experienced travelers walk onto the ferry, go to the covered but open-sided solarium, and set up a tent where they will stay for the trip. No stakes allowed, they duct tape the tents to the deck.

As the aforementioned Subaru has heated leather seats, this is obviously not the route for us. But it does illustrate the broad services this fleet must offer. There are the spectator amenities like observation lounges with wide windows and padded seats. There are also laundry rooms and public bathrooms with showers and long recliners where people without rooms sleep. The ice machine and a line of vending machines is along the wall next to the snack bar, which has a Keurig available 24-hours a day.

The ferry itself bares a lot of evidence of repaired utility. It’s half a century old, after all, and there are parts that show age. The bar lounge on the upper deck was serving only two beers and three canned cocktails in short shifts after lunch and after dinner bares the decorative weight of an early 90’s refresh. The sit-down dining room has an unused salad bar with sneeze guard and wood paneling. That said, the whole ship is clean and well-kept. The carpeting might be out of date, but it’s not tattered or dirty.

Modern additions actually stick out, like the flat screen television next to the purser’s desk that shows current speed and position of the ship on both close-up and broad digital maps. There’s that tendency for men of a certain age to look into the engine of a car and nod or stand on the porch in the run up to a weather event. The map screen was the gathering place for such men. One of whom was me. Love that map.

An Inadvertent Sacrifice

Our end-of-July travel did coincide with some remarkably calm seas. The MV Columbia started unloading in various ports on Sunday morning. We were not awake for Ketchikan, but did see the action in Wrangell and Petersburg. These are much smaller docks than what’s in Bellingham. They feature a gangplank that pulls to the side of the boat. Walkers head over, followed by any cars getting off in single file. Fewer cars pull on then get off.

And the water is a shade of blue beyond the capacity for modern digital devices. A little more green and it would look sickly. A little more blue and it would look candied. The water is such a radiant turquoise that it’s surprising someone hasn’t bottled it and sold it as a tonic for everything. 

However, I don’t have any pictures of this. 

Mid-afternoon on Sunday, we found ourselves reading in the front viewing lounge. Very comfortable, very quiet. After a while, it was time to get up and move a little, so we took the long way back to the cabin. Walked outside, leaned on the rail a bit, watched the hills roll by. Headed back inside. 

Then a little ding on my wrist as my Apple Watch notified me that I had left my phone behind. It was the most hollow of feelings, one where you let out a slow groan weighted with the sense that one’s own deep stupidity has rerouted the layout of the next few days. I knew immediately that I had not left my phone behind. I had dropped it overboard.

We did the cursory search of the seats where we had been reading. Eldest child was a little anxious about the situation and I have myself to blame for that. Whenever we start on a travel, we check in that each of us are present, with stuffies and books. Then I check in that I have my wallet, phone, and keys. I’ve emphasized – a lot – that so long as we have each other and those three things, we can get out of a lot of situations. We no longer had one of those things.

At this age, the kids have their own phones. So even if mine was called to eternity with Poseidon, we would still have some contact with the outside world upon disembarking. The kids gripped their phones furiously, not out of fear that they too would drop theirs to the ocean, but that I’d take them. And likely lose them over the railing too. 

Which left me to spend Monday finishing my book and talking to the kids, who had plenty to needle me about. Not that I had hauled them back from the railing to avoid dropping their stuff. More than once. Which they frequently reminded me.

So my detachment from the digital world extended past our time on the boat and through the beginning of our time in Juneau. And it was okay. We got in touch with Phil in the Verizon store, who was a gem and set me up with a new device. It took a little while for the new phone to get itself situated with all the apps and because cell coverage was intermittent and the coffee shops have slow Wi-Fi. Nothing three days on a boat hadn’t prepared me for.

We may have set our watches at the purser’s desk before leaving Bellingham, but it took all weekend to truly get on Alaska time. Actions take longer in Alaska, and patience is key. It is prohibitively expensive to move stuff, and people, and avocados, and mail, and new appliances to the 49th State, so things don’t immediately jump at being done or move at the speed of the newest version. Items get fixed rather than replaced or get put on pasta rather than zucchini noodles. There is nothing bad about such Alaskaness, or inherently more wholesome. It’s just different. And the best way to get ready for it is a ride on this purposeful, serene, and fundamentally functional boat.

Thank goodness that didn’t extend to cell phones, though.

There are things that must be improved about the Alaskan ferries, starting with adding more boats and having enough staff that the hard working folks running the ship don’t feel the need to apologize. They all deserve raises, and help, and supplies of enough chowder to keep the boat stocked.

But all the things that could be listed as needs for improvement – antiquated styles, lack of onboard Wi-Fi, paltry selection of IPAs – they don’t make the ship work. The MV Columbia is a tightly run, well-organized vessel that does every bit of heavy lifting asked of it. Moving a thousand people a week around Alaska is a very heavy lift. The only improvement is doing everything necessary to keep it running. 

And more of the awesome map screens.

The post Summer in the Inside Passage: Riding the Alaska Ferry first appeared on The Urbanist.

On Resources Radio‘s From Rails to Trails, Peter Harnik discusses how nonprofits, local stakeholders, and policymakers convert abandoned railroad lines into multi-use recreational trails with Resources Radio Senior Fellow Margaret Walls. Harnik is cofounder of the Rails-to-Trails Conservancy, and founder of the Center for City Park Excellence.

Washington State’s Burke-Gilman Trail is one of the earliest rail-trails, and the Palouse to Cascades Trail and the Olympic Discovery Trail, which will eventually expand to connect via a coast-to-coast trail, are important examples of the challenges and successes of this active transportation and popular outdoor recreation resource.

 Republished with permission from Resources Radio, which is produced by Elizabeth Wason, with music by Daniel Raimi.

The post Guest Podcast: Recycling America’s Railroads into Trails first appeared on The Urbanist.

A shared enthusiasm for trail networks and the unique recreational opportunities the Olympic Peninsula offers set the tone for this year’s in-person board convening of the national Rails-to-Trails Conservancy (RTC) in Sequim. RTC is based in the other Washington, Washington DC, and the 135-mile Olympic Discovery Trail is what lured them here.

The Olympic Discovery Trail (ODT) stretches from Port Townsend to La Push across lush forests, alongside mountains, farms, and shorelines, and in 2019 it was designated by RTC as the official western end of their 3,700-mile, 12-state, multi-use trail corridor, called the Great American Rail-Trail.

A Jamestown S’Klallam welcome was given by Theresa Lehman, Tribal Council Treasurer. Attending the receptions hosted by RTC at the Jamestown S”Klallam Tribe’s 7 Cedars Hotel and Red Cedar Hall at the Tribal Center were local trail advocates – the Peninsula Trails Coalition, the newly formed Puget Sound to Pacific Collaborative, Bainbridge Island Parks & Trails Foundation, the Washington Backcountry Horsemen, Sequim Wheelmen’s Adaptive Bike Program, Ian McKay (Ian’s Ride), Cascade Bicycle Club, Washington Trails Association  – Washington Representative Steve Tharinger, Clallam and Jefferson County councilmembers, tribal representatives, and many others.

Rails-to-Trails Conservancy, a national voice for trails since 1986, visited the Puget Sound region to also bestow Governor Jay Inslee with the annual Doppelt Family Rail-Trail Champion award for 2023. State Parks Commissioner Sophia Danenberg praised the Governor’s work on the trail system.

“Governor Inslee has forged a legacy – and it is the state’s trails and parks,” Danenberg said. “Trails and parks are a nexus of cultural, natural, and economic values. Trails welcome all – regardless of age or ability.”

Danenberg noted this wasn’t the only trail to see improvements.

“The Governor has considered the parks as being complementary and not competitive to development and his support has helped fund important trail gaps like the rebuilding of the Palouse to Cascades Beverly Bridge and the Teko and Renslow Trestles, and the Olympic Discovery Trail through Jefferson County’s Anderson Lake State Park,” she added.

In their news release, Rails-to-Trails Conservancy noted the importance of trails to the climate work for which the Governor has become known.

“For decades, Governor Inslee has championed the role of trails in addressing significant challenges facing our communities – building climate resilience, generating economic development and delivering quality of life,” said RTC President Ryan Chao.

“He has leveraged his position to raise the financial and political capital needed to unlock incredibly difficult projects that are transformative for the people they serve, the regions they connect and the entire nation,” Chao added. “He is raising the bar for the country’s elected officials, while showcasing how integral trail and active transportation networks are in addressing the intertwined issues of climate change and our country’s economic future.”

Trail work is a throughline in Inslee’s career.

“Governor Inslee’s dedication to the state’s trail system, and the impact that trail connectivity can deliver for the well-being of people, places and the planet, began when he was a state legislator, and has continued in his role as a member of the U.S. House of Representatives and now as governor. Most recently, Governor Inslee championed a $1.3 billion investment for active transportation and trail projects under the Move Ahead Washington program, the largest investment in trails, walking and biking in the state’s history, as part of plans to accelerate the development and connectivity of transportation infrastructure across the state,” Chao said.

Many people in attendance noted numerous times the need to be working together which makes everyone’s efforts stronger. A highlighted effort to demonstrate the reach and depth of this kind of collaborating is the newly formed, Puget Sound to the Pacific Collaborative (Bainbridge Island Parks & Trails Foundation, Peninsula Trails Coalition, North Kitsap Trails Association) which have applied for a competitive federal Department of Transportation RAISE grant.

In March 2023, The Urbanist reported on this RAISE grant application. “Filling the gaps would unite two separate regional trails on either side of the Hood Canal Bridge: the Olympic Discovery trail in Jefferson and Clallam Counties, and the Sound to Olympics trail in Kitsap County. If awarded, the $16.2 million request would fund planning and design on 34 separate segments to create a single trail that is being called the Puget Sound to Pacific Trail.”

The City of Port Angeles is the lead applicant. The full application can be found at: www.ps2p.org. Awardees will be announced shortly on June 28.

A few key shifts in thinking about multi-use trail networks were also discussed. For example, the pandemic prompted people seeking safe and healthy activities to use area trails of all kinds — which they did in droves. This new interest is key to raising the profile of trails as essential to human well-being – for good health, mental renewal, time in nature, to reconnect with family and friends, and more.

“Multi-use trails are catalysts for change because they show us how we can live better by connecting communities, being valued economic amenities for residents and visitors alike, and, most importantly, for providing safe, additional active transportation for all regardless of age or ability,” said Washington Trails Association’s CEO Jaime Loucky. “It’s time to look at the bigger picture, at landscapes and systems, that serve many purposes and the needs of those nearby.”

Recently, the group published a new study, called the Hike, Bike, Walk Study, to better illustrate the values of trails, landscapes and the economy.

Many of those attending this convening of multi-use trails advocates, agencies, jurisdictions, and others, had nothing but awe-inducing things to say about the Olympic Discovery Trail and the north Olympic Peninsula. Locals like Jefferson County Commissioner Heidi Eisenhour get to enjoy the natural beauty all the time.

“This gathering has been another opportunity to shed light on the trail’s values, most importantly, that it is accessible to everyone,” Eisenhour said. “I love the trail for my own health and for the time outdoors that I enjoy while on the trail.”

Peninsula Trails Coalition Board President Jeff Bohman added, “Back in 2019 when Rails-to-Trails Conservancy added the Olympic Discovery Trail as the official west end of the Great American Rail-Trail, its beauty and values became more well-known. Our group has been helping to develop this trail for almost 35 years. With the encouragement and help from Rails-to-Trails Conservancy, we were able to join with Bainbridge Island multi-use trails advocates and government entities to create the Puget Sound to the Pacific Collaborative and to apply for the USDOT RAISE grant which will help us close the trail gaps between the Hood Canal and further west to help complete the remaining Olympic Discovery Trail gaps all the way to La Push.”

As the state continues to develop more extensive trail networks it is clear that we are all lucky beneficiaries of these gems. We are very fortunate, as a state, to also have an active transportation office as part of our Washington State Department of Transportation. (WSDOT). Featured at the award ceremony was a panel that included, WSDOT’s Active Transportation Director Barbara Chamberlain, Cascade Bicycle Club’s Policy Director Vicky Clarke, and Washington Trails Association’s CEO Jaime Loucky. One takeaway from this talk about multi-use trail networks is the need for more investment.

“We are enjoying the trails and we are passionate, but we also need the dollars,” Clarke said. “We need local governments, the corporations – and all ways possible – to support the trails that we love.”

This week’s Rails-to-Trails Conservancy visit took place on the lands of the Jamestown S’Klallam, with visits to the homes of the Lower Elwha, Chimakum, the Quileute, and the Makah people, who have lived here since time immemorial.

Improvements to the 135-mile Olympic Discovery Trail will connect these lands and the people and natural beauty contained in them like never before.

The post Inslee Rides Olympic Bike Trail, Celebrates Expansion Plans first appeared on The Urbanist.

One tool that London has occasionally employed is stair count signs. At the Belsize Park Tube station, stairs to the surface have wall signs letting riders how many steps there are between station platforms and the surface. The station is relatively deep at 109 feet below the surface. Riders have two choices: the stairs or an elevator and 20 steps. It’s not a wheelchair accessible station as a result, but without the notice, riders who may be unfamiliar with the station wouldn’t necessarily know what their options are and if the stairs are a wise choice for them.

Sound Transit has been improving on escalator maintenance and uptime, but stair counts could be a helpful tool in decision-making, particularly when one or more station escalators are out of service. Often, too, Link stations are situated with different surface level topography leaving one exit to be higher or lower. Detailing the number of steps to each street-level exit could help as part of that decision-making process.

Another ingenuity in London: elevator network guides. At many stations, all elevators are given a unique number or letter emblazoned above their thresholds. Along with these are placard guides placed to the side and inside of elevators diagraming the relationship of elevators throughout a station or station complex. Those diagrams can be quite detailed, offering information on which floors elevators connect and which side the elevator doors will open.

Want to go from the Elizabeth line to one of the London Underground lines at Liverpool Street? Take Lift E to the mezzanine floor and then Lift F to the ticket hall. From there, additional guidance will be offered. In a more complex situation, a rider may want to reach Broadgate. The elevator guide would direct the rider to similarly take the same elevators to the ticket hall but then ride Lift G to the Broadgate level.

To reassure riders of options at Liverpool Street, signage above the Lift E doorway indicates that the rider can reach the station exit as well as National Rail, London Buses, London Overground, and London Underground services. Similar information is provided at the Elizabeth line platform with wall signs. Connecting services are indicated with directional arrows and elevators are given a special level of detail for which are best to reach specific platforms.

Right now, Sound Transit has few interchange stations and none that present the kind of complexity like a London’s Liverpool Street or Paddington stations. But implementing similar elevator wayfinding at Link and Sounder stations would be a big help to riders. Not all station elevators serve street, mezzanine, and platform levels. In many cases, riders have to navigate multiple elevators to get from street level to platform level. Out-of-service elevators are also a common problem, making it a serious chore for riders who need elevator accessibility. So dedicated elevator wayfinding could greatly improve this element of rider experience.

A third wayfinding strategy that London employees is focused on riders aboard trains. Station names are repeatedly highlighted conspicuously at platforms so riders are assured what is being reached as the train slows. Station name signs dot platform walls and benches. These are very bold and clearly identifiable because of the iconic London roundel and signage bands.

While Sound Transit shouldn’t pilfer the roundel, new iconic station signage that is sized and located properly could help many riders. This could be particularly helpful at stations downtown and with center platforms. Currently, Downtown stations place the signage too high to see from a passing train and stations with center platforms turn the rider focus toward the platform, not the exterior wall (if one exists), where station name signage can be hard to identify among structures and other features. Station names are also displayed too infrequently and often blend in with the walls and fixtures, adding to the challenges already present. Reassurance to riders is important, so better addressing this area of signage would be a help to riders of all types.

As the transit system grows, Sound Transit’s wayfinding approach continues to evolve. Implementing these London-style wayfinding improvements seems a natural part of that evolution and would improve rider experience. These could be trialed as a part of small pilot at some stations now to see how they work and give time to refine them before additional Link extensions open. Bigger changes could then be implemented as part of opening the East Link and Lynnwood Link extensions when signage has to be changed anyway.

The post Three London Station Wayfinding Strategies Sound Transit Should Adopt first appeared on The Urbanist.

Doug Trumm: Downtown Bremerton

Ray Dubicki: Tour around with the McMenamin’s Passport

Natalie Bicknell Argerious: Feriton Spur Park in Kirkland and Vancouver, Washington.

Ryan Packer: Olympic Discovery Trail

Shaun Kuo: Redmond

Downtown Bremerton 

Doug Trumm: I’ve always wanted to take the fast ferry out to Bremerton for a proper exploration of the city but never managed to make it happen. The Urbanist led a tour out to Bremerton via ferry back in 2016, but alas I had a scheduling conflict. While I have explored Bremerton a little bit since then, the fast ferry really is the way to make an entrance and from Seattle it cuts the crossing time in half to just 30 minutes. The ferry terminal is right near the boardwalk, several museums, an arts district, and a good selection of pubs, restaurants, and even a speakeasy. It’s just waiting for ferry-goers to make a day of it. Downtown Bremerton has seen a good deal of housing development and the city has acted as a pressure valve, providing more affordable housing for households priced off the mainland.

McMenamin’s Passport 

Ray Dubicki: By the end of next year, we’re going to be finishing up a significant family milestone. The short people who live in the house rent free will have visited all 50 states before they get to high school. So the next project is going to be something a bit more local and kind of precious. We’re going to do the McMenamin’s Passport.

The local chain of restaurants, hotels, and beer emporia is one of those things that kind of exists in the ether, always there but not particularly popping into the front of mind until you’re walking past hungry or they show up in a search for a room. And it’s kind of weird to take them for granted as the McMenamins group has renovated historic buildings and has a pretty impressive list of events. I do wish their in-house tap list was a little more robust, but they have a few bottle shops and the sandwiches are substantial. And the draw really is that knocking out the passport is an excuse to spend the night in Bothell, Centralia, or Bend, Oregon. Much like McMenamin’s itself, places we like but too often overlook.

Feriton Spur Park in Kirkland 

Natalie Bicknell Argerious: There’s something really magical about taking a multi-use trail that’s completely separate from road traffic to a place you want or need to be, as commuters on the Burke-Gilman Trail know well. It is always really fun to encounter someplace new via a trail, and that’s something I really look forward to doing at Feriton Spur Park on the Google campus in Kirkland this coming year. 

Feriton Spur Park is located directly on the Cross Kirkland Corridor, part of the growing Eastrail. The park has amenities like a splash pad, pickleball, community farm, and a café and tap room by Chainline Brewing in a historic Pacific Railway Caboose. Personally, I think we need more eating and drinking options in public parks across Puget Sound, so I’m excited to see one there. All these elements come together to create what looks like a dynamic place for people to hang out. Maybe we’ll organize an Urbanist social event there in the coming year?

Vancouver, WA

Natalie Bicknell Argerious: The fact that I had to add “WA” after Vancouver says a lot. With over 190,000 residents according to the last census, Vancouver may be one of Washington’s largest cities, but it is constantly outshone by the superstar city to the north with the same name. That’s probably why even though I’ve passed through Vancouver many times while on my way to Portland, I’ve never stopped to visit.

I’ve decided that this will be the year that changes. There are definitely urbanist sites to enjoy in the “other” Vancouver. For instance, it has a new 7.3-acre Waterfront Park at the south end of its downtown that connects to the five mile Columbia River Renaissance Trail, and work is underway to connect to the rest of the downtown through the Reconnecting the Waterfront project focused on developing housing and commercial spaces. Ester Short Park in the heart of downtown is the oldest public square in Washington State and offers many amenities including a farmer’s market. Like its sibling Washington State cities, Vancouver also has ample restaurants, cafés, and breweries to explore. It even has two McMenamin’s locations, a brewpub with views of the Columbia River and what it markets as a European sidewalk café styled establishment in East Vancouver. In my next trip south, it might be Portland that I overlook.

Olympic Discovery Trail

Ryan Packer: My pick is the Olympic Discovery Trail, a 135-mile multi-use trail between Port Townsend and La Push on the coast. A broad assortment of advocates and elected officials are trying to extend the trail all the way to the Winslow ferry dock in Bainbridge Island, which would turn the trail into a three-county-spanning bicycle superhighway that would make trips to the Olympic Peninsula much more accessible for carfree Puget Sound residents. This year I’ll be covering their attempts to make it happen, and am dying to get there to check out the incredible views along the trail, including the mind-blowing segment that runs along Lake Crescent.

Redmond

Shaun Kuo: With the development articles written for Bellevue, Kirkland, and Issaquah, my eyes are set on Redmond as the next Eastside city to explore and catalog. Doug has written about the comprehensive planning there, so we’ll be exploring places of existing and planned density in the city. Redmond will be the site of four new light rail stations by 2024 or 2025, serving these stations with adequate development will be critical to ensure they have strong ridership. I’m expecting too much parking and too little housing, but let’s see what we can dig up.

If you live, work, or hang out in Redmond, give us a holler with tips, favorite bites, or anything else worth covering.

The post Urbanist Places We Want to Visit in Washington State in 2023 first appeared on The Urbanist.