Slumbering and lumbering: small town adventures in the Evergreen State

"Mason County Forest Festival", proclaimed the 20ft billboard of a lumberjack: an axe in one hand, the horns of a bull in the other. The overwhelming desperation to walk off my painfully seat-sore glutes had triumphed over my jet lag-induced delirium. Despite clocking less than 2 hours of sleep, by 5.45am, I was headed on foot – guided by the direction of sunrise.

Shelton is a sleepy lumbering town of around 10,000 inhabitants on Puget Sound in Washington (WA), some 20 miles from the state capitol of Olympia. Unlike much of the United States, Washington State actually boasts a fairly comprehensive public transport system. If like me, driving – especially on the wrong side of the road – is not something you find relaxing, the Mason Transit Authority runs a free bus shuttle from Shelton to Olympia every hour, as well as routes to into the hiking trails of the Hood Canal and Lake Cushman, sitting on the cusp of the vast wilderness of the Olympic National Park. As long as you're not fussed about traveling in style, from Olympia, FlixBus USA runs very affordable connections to Tacoma, Seattle and Portland (OR). In a small town like Shelton, one needn't feel completely stranded from the array of the urban and rural opportunities Washington has to offer.

I should note: I am calling Shelton a town, but to locals, it's very much a city. This is a mental picture I struggle to rectify, though, given that my hometown in the British Cotswolds has almost double the population – yet neither Shelton, nor Cirencester, could get away with calling itself cosmopolitan.

I drifted down the residential streets towards the unusually footpathed Olympic Highway as it was beginning to get light. Being mid-April, many of the backyards were full-bloom with magnolias and bright pink cherry blossoms (undoubtedly not quite as dazzling as the blooms in D.C., but pleasant nonetheless). Despite the eeriness of the hour, and though I cringe to admit it, there was something initially incredibly comforting about feeling as if I was walking through the film set of one of the Twilight movies. I've perhaps watched far too many US film dramas set in the Pacific Northwest, but it was gratifying to be so quickly met with many a recognisable typecast. Menacingly large, steely-grated timber trucks – tick; dimly lit roadside diners, advertising watery IPAs in neon signs– tick; rows and rows of mismatched ranch homes, adorned with US flags, picket fences, and "no trespassing" signs – tick, tick, TICK.

As the crisp morning mist gently licked over the pine-steeped glades of the valley to reveal the snow-tipped Cascades on the distant horizon, I exhaled with a grateful smile. It's a time of day I am rarely acquainted with at home. Western White Pines and Douglas Firs towered on every side; it's really not difficult to comprehend why they call it the Evergreen State. It's a pity I'm not visiting in December, as Shelton is nicknamed "Christmastown, USA" due to the sheer volume of evergreens being grown in the area. The local council website proudly announces that, in 2019, Shelton broke the Guinness World Record for the highest number of lit Christmas trees, which presumably means the World Record for the most unlit Christmas trees belongs elsewhere.

I was positively endeared by Shelton as I made it down the hill into the town centre. There are basically two main streets – Cota and Railroad – where you'll find most of the town's amenities. A scattering of affordable eateries, coffee hubs, credit unions, and thrift stores, plus a town hall, a small museum, a post office, and plenty of contemporary church buildings. As I lapped downtown and its backstreets with a freshly brewed coffee from Urraco, I chuckled at some of the more peculiar-looking craftsman style homes that came into view, as well as some of the very public virtue-signalling on display. Ambling dozily, I was suddenly graced by a pair of feisty Rofous hummingbirds dancing in the road in front of me. They darted away as quickly as they had appeared, but they were instantly recognisable by their motion, and it was still so quiet at that time of the morning that I could even hear the faint murmur of their wings.

Though certainly rough around the edges, and any views over Puget Sound largely eclipsed by the industrial log milling infrastructure all along the bay area, every Sheltonion in shop or cafe with whom I chatted extended me an incredibly warm welcome, and spoke very highly of their home – despite being perplexed as to what business a young British girl like me had here. A billboard on the way out of town even sports the hashtag #SheltonProud; though admittedly, I haven't actually checked how many hits it's achieved. I'd have to wait until June though, the locals say, when the annual Forest Festival I'd seen advertised takes place. A commemoration of rich forest traditions and local heritage, touts the event webpage, promising a grand parade, colourful carnival and logging show.

Under most circumstances, I'm all for supporting local history, economy and community spirit, but there's a saddening, silently screaming irony about the Forest Festival. It's an irony that I can smell all over town that no amount of rustic charm can neutralise. Patriotic murals, red-necked territorialism...there is no escaping the reek of colonialism. It can't, and shouldn't, be ignored. The oldest human skeleton in the US, "Kennewick Man", thought to be around 9,000 years old, was found in Washington. Yet, the history the town boasts of is barely shy of two centuries. The "generations of tradition" being celebrated refer only to the origins of the Simpson Logging Company in the 1890s...there is no mention of the Squaxin Island and Skokomish tribes that once freely occupied the land. Indeed, it's a sadness deeply entrenched throughout North America, but one which can be all to easy to overlook when charmed by the sweet chirrup of the American Robin as it lands on the upright mail box, or enchanted by the boy at the farmer's market who discounts my apples because he loves my accent. And I haven't even touched on the environmental side of the matter.

I walk back up the hill with a heavy heart. I don't know what the answer is; perhaps, there isn't one. This isn't a political essay, and in spite of the bittersweet reality, I still look upon Shelton with immense fondness. But, historical reality is never something we should shy away from. Slumbering away the day because we're jet-lagged is okay. Slumbering because injustice makes us uncomfortable, is not.

"If you look close ... you can see that the wild critters have 'No Trespassing' signs tacked up on every pine tree." - Marguerite Henry, Misty of Chincoteague

Sources:

City of Shelton, WA. (2023). Available at: https://sheltonwa.gov/index.php [Accessed: 16 April 2023]

Explore Hood Canal (2023). Available at: https://www.explorehoodcanal.com [Accessed: 20 April 2023]

Mason County Forest Festival (2023). Available at: https://www.masoncountyforestfestival.com [Accessed: 16 April 2023]

DK Eyewitness Travel (2022). Pacific Northwest: Oregon, Washington and British Columbia . 2nd edn. London: Penguin Random House.