If you spend enough time in Seattle, you will undoubtedly hear natives talk longingly of the Ballard of old. Few of them were here when the last mill closed, or immigrants landed on these teeming shores from the east and the west, but all they know is that the neighborhood has changed. In their eyes, it is ground zero for gentrification, housing inequality, rapid change, expansion skyward, and a city that continues to tie itself in knots attempting to keep young tech employees happy. Of course, they aren’t completely wrong, but neighborhoods have always changed, evolved, and pushed themselves forward. A neighborhood and a city are living things. In a march toward progress, there will always be unintended consequences. From these oversights, new work is born.
Armed with this history, I hit the pavement on a warm Saturday in August of 2021 on a mission to explore one of my favorite neighborhoods in this city. I have lived in and around this city off and on since February of 2011. In those ten years, I have spent countless hours tucked away in Ballard bars and restaurants. Neighborhoods like Ballard made me fall in love with this city, and they are what keep me here (for a bit longer). As I played urban explorer, I did so with no set agenda. My first stop was the only demand of the day. Beyond that, my mission was to explore, document, gain a sense of what has changed since I moved back from Los Angeles, and take note of COVID’s impact.
My first and only scheduled stop of the day was the National Nordic Museum. I have driven or walked by this modern museum countless times but have never walked through its doors. One of my missions of the day was to remedy this oversight. Walking in and out of each gallery space, I found myself floored by the design, layout, and attention to detail. Clearly, an overarching story was being told here; a story of a proud people with a rich history, shaped by their environment and brought to America with a deep desire to create a better life for themselves. After a couple of hours, I exited the museum with a better understanding of the Nordic states, and a newfound wish to visit them all.
From the National Nordic Museum, I met up with a friend of mine who calls Ballard home. Caroline and I met on the second day of my 2020 attempt at a thru-hike of the Pacific Crest Trail (COVID-19 ruined my plans). We became fast friends, hike some of the Colorado Trail together, and promised each other we would reconnect when we got back to Seattle. Today, in her backyard, Caroline was my lunch date. After some indecisiveness on my part, we landed at Bitterroot. We talked about hiking, relationships, and readjusting to life in Seattle. As I silence my appetite with the soggiest Italian sandwich I have ever eaten, I found myself so deeply grateful for this friendship.
With bellies full, we found ourselves in search of an opportunity to pay our respects to one of the many true rulers in this city. We needed coffee. Based on the suggestion of Caroline, we headed for Venture Coffee. I ordered my usual Iced Vanilla Latte and we planted ourselves on an overstuffed couch. We spent another hour talking about life and scheming a return to the Pacific Crest Trail. As we left, finally splitting ways, I made a note of the great coffee but found myself thankful for the better friendship.
With my camera hidden away in my backpack, I made my way toward the Ballard locks. This marvel of human engineering wasn’t on my agenda today, though. I was headed for the Carl S. English Botanical Garden. Mere steps from the locks, this expansive green space provided the perfect opportunity to slow down, capture photos, and explore my creative side. I love snapping photographs of mountain vistas, expansive lakes, and mighty bridges, but nothing inspires my creativity like flowers (I guess I am my mother’s child). Without a doubt, this field of green and flowers would have inspired her beyond belief too.
Hiding my camera way in my bag, I decided to cheat. No, not on my partner, but on one of my favorite Seattle institutions. Inside of West Seattle’s Easy Street Records, my love of music expanded, and I began feverishly collecting vinyl records. Stepping into Sonic Book Records in Ballard, felt dirty and wrong. Digging through stacks of records, I could feel the strange sting of judgment aimed in my direction from across Elliot Bay. Quickly, I decided on a Rogue Wave record. Back on the sidewalk, I felt awash with sin. I would like to promise it will never happen again, but such promises seem to be beyond my control.
When I visit a new city, I always search out the nearest record and bookstore. In these haunts, I learn so much about a city. With a record tucked under my arm, I looked across the street and locked my eyes squarely on Secret Garden Books. Deciding this would be the perfect opportunity to deepen my understanding of Ballard, I headed for its doors. For the next thirty minutes or so, I passed tables, flipped through shelved collections, and read employee recommendations. Deciding on a book about a man who escaped the Ku Klux Klan, I decided one more stop was in order before heading home.
Needing a place to collect my thoughts, jot down some notes, and relax, I made my way to Hotel Albatross for a couple of rounds of cocktails. With great indie music playing in the background and a tiki drink on a coaster before me, I attempted to sum up my exploration of Ballard.
Ballard is walkable, hip, on the cutting edge of Pacific Northwest culture. Its bars, restaurants, and music scene set the tone for the rest of the city. It is neighborhood-oriented but finds itself wrestling with the visible manifestation of a growing and changing city in the form of homeless neighbors who the gifts of changed have not yet positively visited. It is a wonderful and intoxicating blend of new and old, but often finds itself proving nothing is sacred. Your favorite restaurant, bar, or music hall can close in the name of progress. In Seattle, there is no such thing as an institution. Change and a pandemic have all but cemented this truth. Ballard is many things to many people, but it will always hold a special place in my heart. It is representative of everything I love about the Pacific Northwest, and on a sunny August day, it did its best to make me fall in love with it all over again.
Be good to each other,
Nathan
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