Port Townsend is a beautiful, peaceful small town in the Pacific Northwest. Bordered by bays of the Puget Sound, daily views of wildlife are normal part of life. Orcas, sea lions, seals, porpoises, pelicans, seagulls can be seen by frequent visitors on and around the many islands and peninsulas.
The sound of the waves slapping the shore, the smell of the salt water against barnacled wooden pier pillars, and the gentle waving of pine leaf clusters in the wind transport you to a wonderland of nature and otherness, far from the city hustle.
Our family has a long history with Port Townsend, as my parents used to live here.
As a part of our 2025 US furlough, on Monday, we came up to Port Townsend to enjoy a week with some friends at their home which overlooks Discovery Bay.
Leading down from their home to a private rocky shore is a steep set of stairs--with a pulley on the final ladder to keep the pirates out, I guess.
Underneath the cliff is a deep stone cave, the depths of which even our friends haven't ventured. Certainly treasure awaits anyone brave enough to risk it.
About a mile down the narrow coast, at low tide, is a sand dollar beach where you can watch they grey sand dollars scooting around and gather the white (dead) sand dollars to your heart's content.
On Tuesday, our second day at this lovely place, as I was waiting for low tide so I could go and find the sand dollars, I took my computer out to the patio chairs to write you an email.
Alas, the patio had a step that I didn't notice.
I was looking out at the bay, because they said sometimes orcas can be seen. I was hoping that now was that moment those orca pods would visit and I'd catch that rare sight.
But as I stepped forward, I missed the step, and tumbled down to the next level, crumpling onto my ankle.
The pain was excruciating, and my toes were no longer visible--it was like those zombie movies with crooked bones twisted every which way. My foot had twisted 180 degrees plus other directions.
I screamed from pain.
Nobody came.
I screamed again, longer and urgently. Help!
After what felt like a very long time, our friend and my family came out.
My husband apologized for not coming sooner-- he thought my screams were actually seagull cries. 😅
They called 911. Everyone stood around me in solidarity, blocking me from the sun, comforting me. Pain hit in waves from almost unbearable to numb.
After a while, the ambulance took me away. I was hardly aware of what was going on.
