mike's web log

I love donuts[1] and always have. I grew up on places like Winchell's Donut House, and then later Dunkin' Donuts when that company expanded west. In our day, there were raised glazed and cake donuts and apple fritters, and the variations were primarily in what they dipped these basic pastries in. Since then, donuts have changed.

One change was the introduction of "exotic" flavors would have been unknown to the Winchell's of my youth. Voodoo Doughnut popularized (I believe?) the Bacon-Maple Bar and has offerings like a glazed ring topped with Cap'n Crunch. Legendary Doughnuts outside Seattle has donuts that re-create the flavors of candy bars, like Twix and Snickers.

People have also rethought the dough from which donuts are made. Voodoo has a Churro Cheesecake donut. Many places now offer cronuts/doughsants, which are donuts made with croissant dough, a brilliant culinary innovation.

You can also go artisanal, let's call it. General Porpoise in Seattle offers high-end Lemon Tiramisu and Chocolate Marshmallow donuts. 9th and Hennepin Donuts in (West) Seattle offers flavors like Blue Corn Masa Cake Donut with Chili-Honey Glaze, and Filled Brioche with Duck Egg Chevre Pudding and Chocolate Glaze. You order for pickup at a specific time, and they make the donuts for your timeslot and serve them hot from the fryer ("as they should be").

For donut fans, it's a bonanza. Even so, when I go to a donut place, I find myself going back to the familiar donuts of my youth. I like the exotics, but I've particularly come to appreciate the pleasures of a basic donut, well made.

A cake donut that's fresh — that still has a slight crunch to the crust — is an entirely different experience than one that was made 12 hours ago (let alone a bag of Little Debbie donuts from the grocery store). Krispy Kreme made a business out of selling fresh-made glazed donuts at industrial scale, and I can see why it's been successful.

It's pretty rare to find an emporium where you can get a pastry that makes you think that you've gotten the perfect donut. There are some shops, including well-patronized ones, where I've learned that I'll never get that experience. :(

But there are some standouts. In San Francisco, I had that experience at Johnny Donut on Fillmore. And I did love Bob's Donuts in SF enough to go back a couple of times. Randy's in Inglewood (LA). Darren's Donuts in Mount Vernon, WA. Stan's Donuts in Chicago makes an amazing cronut.

Here in Seattle, my current favorite basics-done-right shop is Aurora Donuts & Ice Cream, a no-frills, takeout-only, we-prefer-cash place that's on a sketchy stretch of Highway 99. To me, their Buttermilk Old-Fashioned is the epitome of a cake donut.

(I'll note as a separate criterion that because of my youthful experiences, I have it in my head that donut shops should be open 24 hours. Winchell's is, and I believe a lot of Dunkin' Donuts shops are. Bob's in San Francisco is. When I was in Cupertino, CA once I simply had to visit Donut Wheel late at night. I acknowledge that being open 24 hours is not economically practical for all donut shops.)

I've considered making donuts at home, but all that frying seems messy. Besides, the donut ecosystem seems to be thriving, so I'll probably never run out of places to try no matter where I travel. And while it's by no means a healthy epicurean quest, at least it's a pretty affordable one. :)

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[1] Donut, doughnut, whatever. I like the shortened spelling. [^]

Continuing a series of blog posts about our recent trip to Panama.

1. Part 1: Panama City
2. Part 2: The Cruise Begins
3. Part 3: Through the Canal
4. Part 4: Into the Pacific
5. Part 5: Darién (this entry)

Our last two days were spent in Darién, the part of Panama that borders Colombia. This is real jungle, an area renowned for its inhospitality.[1] Fun fact that I only recently learned: the Darién Gap is not a gap that takes you through the area (a mountain pass, say); instead, the Darien area constitutes a gap in the Pan-American Highway between Central and South America. You can walk across this gap (extremely not recommended) or, more likely, go around Darién on a boat. Let us know how that goes.

However, people do live there, and our first stop was at Playa Muerto, which is a village of the Eberá people. This visit presented some additional touristical quandaries for me — were we respectfully learning about an indigenous culture, or were we gawping at something exotic? I was initially reluctant to just point my camera at our hosts and snap photos.

I discussed this with a thoughtful fellow passenger who noted that the villagers are not culturally isolated and have made their own choice about welcoming visitors. (There's an AirBnB in the village, I eventually learned.)

An Eberá girl and a puppy in Playa Muerto

I will note that our Panamanian guides seemed to have long acquaintance and excellent relationships with the Eberá people, and in fact, with everyone in all the places we visited.

For example, on one of the Zodiacs, the group encountered some fishermen who'd been out on the water for many days. The guide, who knew just about everyone, talked to them about their catch. They offered to sell some fish in exchange for sodas. We didn't buy the fish, but a case of sodas was dispatched from the Quest to the fishermen's boat.

A local fisherman offering some of his catch

In the village, many folks in the group got henna-like "tattoos" that were painted with ink made from a local plant that's said to help repel insects. I have mild regret that I didn't get one of these.

One of our guides getting an Eberá tattoo

This village is where the question of religion came up again. One of the guides noted that unlike most Panamanians, the locals who were religious were mostly Seventh-Day Adventists. My thought, dunno if this is right, is that someone sure had done some successful missionary work.

Then it was time for a walk in which we learned something about local flora and fauna.

One of the guides taking a photo through the telescope, with village kids looking on

What they're seeing: a bat

Our walk was my first opportunity to see leafcutter ants, which I was pretty excited about. (Really)

Leafcutter ants at work. They don't eat the leaves; they grow fungus on the plant material and then eat that fungus. They then tidily dump the used leaf material outside their nest.

On our walk, each of us was taken by the hand by a kid from the village. My escort was an 8-year-old named Monica; Sarah's escort was a girl named Kati. I never really got whether the kids were told to help us out or they just like hanging out with the visitors. For sure it's a touch-y culture, hence perhaps the hand-holding. The kids speak Spanish, so it was possible to have halting conversation with them.

Walking through the village with an Eberá escort

At one point our guide stopped to show us coffee plants. The kids gathered handfuls of coffee berries and popped them into their mouths. Someone told me that they spit out the red husk and suck on the inner soft part, then spit out the hard seed.

Coffee berries ("cherries")

The kids were barefoot the entire time, including over some rocky sections. I asked my escort whether it didn't hurt their feet to walk on the rocks? No, she said, probably wondering about these tenderfoot tourists.

River crossing during our hike. The barefoot kids were completely unbothered walking on rocks.

Our last day was a stop at Punta Patiño, a nature reserve. Long ago someone had cleared this land and set up a cattle ranch, but failed to pay taxes, oops. About 40 years ago the land was ceded for back taxes and allowed to return to its natural state. Because it was once developed land, it has a park-like quality. Our naturalists once again exhibited their remarkable abilities to spot plants and animals of interest, including this time my beloved ants. :)

Punta Patiño reserve

Fun fact from one of our naturalists: trees in Panama don't develop tree rings in the same way that trees do in colder climates, since they don't go through the same seasonal growth spurt.

Tree at the reserve. We forgot to ask what the odd growths were.

Overlooking the reserve from the old cattle ranch HQ

And that was it. Overnight the ship returned to Panama City, we disembarked and were bussed to the airport. (Another feat of organization.) We'd gotten up at 6:30AM (3:30AM Seattle time) for an 8:00 disembarkation. At home we finally lay down at 1:30AM, so a 22-hour day for us.

Back in the USA, connecting at Houston. The journey between Seattle and Panama was looooong, but everything went smoothly.

Before we got off the boat, we'd asked the staff about whether they were getting a break or whatever. Nope. We were off the boat before 9:00AM, and they were welcoming the next group of tourists at 4:00PM that day. I can see that it would be an interesting and sometimes fun job to work on one of these ships, but it definitely is work. :)

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[1] Also the area of most concern for my travel doc. Canal zone? Meh, nothing to worry about there, modulo the dogs and cats thing. Darién? Ok, let's talk. [^]

Continuing a series of blog posts about our recent trip to Panama.

1. Part 1: Panama City
2. Part 2: The Cruise Begins
3. Part 3: Through the Canal
4. Part 4: Into the Pacific (this entry)
5. Part 5: Darién

Our next day we were in the Pearl Islands, where we did some Zodiac-based birdwatching. I think this is typical of any of these cruises: there were a lot of birders on the trip. I'm not really a birder, but this was interesting to me in a meta kind of way. For example, birders can spot birds (or anything, really) that I sometimes had trouble seeing even when they were pointed out.

Our guide pointing out seabirds of interest

Also, some of the birders have some serious camera equipment. (Another quotable quote from the NatGeo photographer: "If you want to make any photo better, put a bird in it.") Also, the guides know an incredible amount about birds. This last I observed over and over as we proceeded.

Serious photographers

In the afternoon there was snorkeling and/or kayaking on Pachequilla Island, one of the Pearl Islands. I much admired the organization and patience that went into herding a bunch of old(er) folks onto Zodiacs, off Zodiacs, into snorkel gear, and then back into and out of the Zodiacs. They really do have the system down. This included a status board that we diligently marked whenever we got off or on the ship.[1]

Status board to indicate whether you were on board or off. Woe betide the passenger who fails to indicate their status.

Loading tourists onto the Zodiacs

As part of our beach outing they'd set up a bunch of folding chairs and a portable bar. Us, we really didn't have to do much of anything.

They looked after our comfort at every moment

We quickly learned the terms dry landing and wet landing for how we would get out of a boat and back in, which in turn dictated our footwear choices. Between the dry/wet landings and the pointed requirement for "closed-toe shoes" for some of the outings, holy cow, I've never had to think so much about shoes on vacation before. :)

Footwear in the Zodiac. Going places by Zodiac meant a "wet landing".

Something I hadn't seen before: they brought along pool noodles for extra flotation. Worked great!

Extra flotation for snorkelers

The next day was similar — Zodiac tour and birdwatching, snorkeling, kayaking, chilling on the beach, this time on Bayoneta and Chapera islands. In the evening we got a preso on shorebirds, which the naturalist (an American woman) had titled "Boobies and their Buddies". Funny title, but I learned a bunch.

Denizen on the beach of Bartolomé Island

Beach time

Next up: Darién

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[1] There was one incident where we got a call in our room confirming that we were on board. I don't know exactly what happened, but I imagine that someone might not have followed the status board protocol. [^]

Continuing a series of blog posts about our recent trip to Panama.

1. Part 1: Panama City
2. Part 2: The Cruise Begins
3. Part 3: Through the Canal (this entry)
4. Part 4: Into the Pacific
5. Part 5: Darién

We took this particular cruise because I was interested in the Panama Canal. As you'll hear repeatedly in anything that discusses the canal, it was and still is one of the great engineering feats ever.

For centuries people dreamed about a way to cut through the skinny parts of Central America to avoid the long route around the bottom of South America. After the triumph of the Suez Canal in 1869, the same French engineer undertook the Panama Canal. However, the French made the error (clear only in retrospect) of envisioning a sea-level canal, as they'd built in Suez. That wasn't possible.

The Americans took an interest for Monroe-Doctrinal reasons, sort of, fostered Panamanian independence from Colombia (ahem) in 1903, then got the necessary concessions. The successful formula turned out to be to dam the wild Changres river to create a huge inland lake — Gatún Lake — above sea level. The designers then created locks on both ends of the lake. All of this took 11 years — the canal opened in August 1914, the month that WWI started. Fun geographic fact: once the canal opened, the Changres River technically became the only river that drains into both the Pacific and the Atlantic.

Gatún Lake, created as part of the canal construction

There's an excellent American Experience program on PBS that recounts the history. Or you could delve into The Path Between the Seas, David McCullough's not-short but very readable book.

Traversing the Canal

You don't just sail up to the canal and go through; it works like an airport, where the canal authorities tell you when you can go. As with harbors, they put a pilot on your ship. The ship's crew was therefore somewhat hand-wavy about when exactly we'd enter the canal, and they explained that commercial shipping gets priority, so we'd probably traverse at night.

The mechanics are similar to any canal-and-lock system, I suppose, except the sheer scale of the thing. You enter the lock, the gates close, the water in the lock fills or drains (you rise or descend), the opposite gates open, you emerge.[1]

Entering one of the locks

To get into and out of the locks, you're tied up to some cool little locomotives that pull you though.

One of the four electric locomotives that we were tied to that pulled us through the locks

Going through one set of locks, then Gatún Lake, then the other set of locks takes about 8 hours. We didn't do that. Instead, we went through the Caribbean-side locks and then pulled up near Barro Colorado Island (island now, formerly just a tall hill) in the lake, where there's a wildlife preserve and a Smithsonian research lab.

Tower on Barro Colorado Island that lets you climb above the jungle canopy

Our goal was to spot wildlife — success, we saw many birds and a coati and a sloth. There were many birders among us, but everyone loves mammals.

Coati rooting around. One of our guides said that they're like raccoons (aka trash pandas), they'll steal lunch right off your table.

That evening we continued our traversal of the canal by heading toward the Pacific side of the locks.

Approaching the Centennial Bridge going toward the Pacific side of the locks

We entered the second set of locks after sundown and followed a cargo ship down and out of the canal. The whole process took a while, so most of us had gone to bed by the time we emerged into the Pacific.

Inspired by the photographer's lecture on phone cameras, I tried to do a little timelapse of one segment of the journey. It's a little shaky, but it was fun to try.

Next up: Into the Pacific

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[1] Someone asked, but no, we didn't go through the newer part of the canal that can accommodate Panamax ships — we went through the original part that was opened in 1914. [^]

Continuing a series of blog posts about our recent trip to Panama.

1. Part 1: Panama City
2. Part 2: The Cruise Begins (this entry)
3. Part 3: Through the Canal
4. Part 4: Into the Pacific
5. Part 5: Darién

On the appointed day, cruise passengers assembled, and we were then bussed across the isthmus from Panama City (Pacific) to Colón (Caribbean). I guess I envisioned the canal as traversing east from the Caribbean to west at the Pacific. Nope: the canal goes more or less north–south.[1] It's about an hour's drive across the isthmus — 50 miles or so.

Map of Panama Canal

We embarked, and all 80 or so passengers were mustered to the lounge to get the first presentation (abandon-ship drill) and an overview of life aboard the ship, Lindblad-style. As anyone who's cruised probably knows, the crew and staff are numerous, and there's a ton of work, mostly invisible to us, to make a trip like this seem friction-free. And indeed, so it proved to be. I should note that our cabin was quite comfortable, no complaints here.[2] The food was good, vegetarian-friendly, inspired by local cuisine.

View out our window-slash-porthole. (It did not open, in case you were wondering.)

View from the sundeck

During our orientation, the purser mentioned some sustainability aspects of our cruise, such as minimizing their use of plastic. I'm down with National Geographic's mission to help preserve wildlife, but there was a certain irony, imo, in talking green to a bunch of well-heeled eco-tourists who'd racked up many thousands of air miles to enjoy this experience. Hmm.

The good ship National Geographic Quest

I don't intend to give an hour-by-hour account of our travels, but the basic daily schedule for the cruise was this:

• 6:30: Stretch-don't-call-it-yoga (per the woman who led the activity, heh)
• 7:00: Breakfast
• 8:00: Outing. The various activities included naturalist-led hikes, a bus tour, and some snorkeling or kayaking. Activities were available for all levels of fitness and interest. Or heck, you could stay on the boat and chill.
• 1:00: Lunch
• 2:00: Second outing, usually
• 6:00: Cocktails+apps, then a preso about nature or history. Most of the guides/naturalists are Panamanian and have deep knowledge of the country's flora and fauna, history, geography, culture, everything.
• 7:00: Dinner
• 8:30: Maybe another presentation.

Relaxing on board. Pirates are a big factor in Panama's history, hence Sir Francis Red Ale.

All the meals are in the dining room, where you sit with other passengers and socialize. The average passenger was (predictably) well into retirement. The social aspects of the trip had worried me, but we met some cool people and had lovely conversations. Number 1 topic: Have you been on one of these cruises before? Number 2: Where are you from?[3]

A number of people had been in tech, so there were some opportunities to kinda-sorta talk shop. For example, one of the guys shared a joke that my tech-docs peeps will like: "No matter how much you push the envelope, it’ll still be stationery."

I get why the schedule was this way — sunrise and sunset are around 6:30 on both ends — but it's earlier than I would normally plan my day. The bar opened pretty early and afaik was open all day, and some folks took advantage.

The first preso was an excellent lecture + practice session from the on-board National Geographic photographer about ways to use your cell-phone camera. He emphasized that we should not discount what you can do with a phone and illustrated this point with a bunch of amazing photos he'd taken with his iPhone. And general advice: "Storage is cheap. Deleting is free. Get the shot."[4]

Our first stop was in Portobelo, one of the ports on the Atlantic side from which South American gold and silver was loaded onto ships bound for Spain. (The cargo was sailed from Peru to the Pacific side of Panama, then hauled across the isthmus on mules, gah.) There's lots of history that involves forts and pirates and the British navy, all explained by one of our guides.

Ruins of the fort at Portobelo

Portobelo is well-known to Panamanians as the town that has the Cristo Negro ("Black Christ"). This is a wooden statue that inspires a huge pilgrimage by penitents and miracle-seekers every October from all over Panama. About 80% of Panamanians are Catholic, which isn't a surprise, although the question of religion unexpectedly came up later.

Our Portobelo stop was capped with a performance by locals of songs and dances harkening back to the Afro-Caribbean roots of the Cimarrones, a community of escaped and freed slaves.

I mention this partly because I wasn't entirely comfortable with the performance; it felt, well, performative, in the way that going to a tourist-oriented luau in Hawaii does. As in, are we watching an authentic cultural expression, or is this a show that's been divorced from its original meaning and is performed primarily for the entertainment of others? This is an aspect of guided tourism that one can't escape, and it's difficult for the tourist to resolve. It wasn't the last time this question came up. Anyway, people danced along and took selfies with the elaborately costumed dancers.

Costumed dancer in Portobelo

Next up: Through the Canal

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[1] An(other) example of Mental Map Oversimplification (MMO), as described by Frank Jacobs. I doubt that I'm the only one who pictured it this way. [^]

[2] Well, one minor complaint: the A/C in the common areas was too blast-y, especially for us old folk. :) [^]

[3] A surprising (to me) number of people on the cruise answered this question by talking about two homes that they move between with the seasons. I guess if you go on a luxury cruise, you're going to meet rich people. [^]

[4] As I've been going through the photos from this trip, I think about many shots that I could have taken and didn't, sad. [^]

For our mid-winter break this year, we went on a Panama cruise. It was a kind of experiment. I've been leery of cruises in general, but the idea of going through the Panama Canal was very interesting to me. Some of our friends had enjoyed and recommended high-end, small-ship cruises. We also know some folks who've been naturalists for National Geographic; they've very knowledgeable and generous with their knowledge. So we signed up for a National Geographic/Lindblad tour.

I've written this up in a sequence of blog posts:

1. Part 1: Panama City (this entry)
2. Part 2: The Cruise Begins
3. Part 3: Through the Canal
4. Part 4: Into the Pacific
5. Part 5: Darién

This was our trip, apologies for my subprofessional drawing skills:

Our Panama cruise

Legend/summary:

1. Panama City (3 days). Bus trip (red) to Colón and embarkation.
2. Portobelo, then canal part 1.
3. Barro Colorado Island in Gatún Lake, then part 2 of the canal.
4-5. Pearl Islands.
6. Playa Muerto in the Darién province.
7. Punta Patiño in Darién, then back to Panama City.

As a prelude to this trip, we visited the travel doctor. They have all these questions: where exactly are you going? Have you had boosters for frightening diseases A, B, and C? The yellow fever inoculation can have side effects, do you want to get that jab nonetheless? I walked out with shots for typhoid and hep B, and a prescription for malaria pills and anti-runs medicine. There was an amusing moment when the doc and I talked about avoiding domestic animals and the risk of rabies. "I like cats", I told her. "Like them here", she said.

Some of the frens I met in Panama City. Per the travel doc's orders, there was no scritching.

Lindblad sent out pre-trip information with suggestions for sunscreen and insect repellent, plus long pants and shoes. (Unlike some cruises, no formal togs on this trip, all casual.) It all seemed sort of abstract when we were packing, but their recommendations eventually made sense. The long pants were an anti-insect measure, and specifically for the jungle part of the trip. Fun ("fun") fact: the scarier diseases are mosquito-borne, and that mostly means nighttime. By the time it got dark, though, we were safely back on the ship.

We got to Panama City a few days before the cruise began so we could look around. Our hotel was in Casco Viejo, the "old town" part of the city, very walkable to interesting sights. (Driving through it, on the other hand, … wow.) On our drive from the airport, our affable driver talked about the buildup of Panama City over the last few decades. You won't be surprised to hear that this involved gentrification, high-rises, and increased costs for the inhabitants.

View from our hotel window in Casco Viejo, Panama City

Panama City

I've been to Mexico a number of times, so it was interesting to me to experience something that was both familiar (Spanish-speaking culture, similar artifacts of colonialism) but also different (different climate, different ethnic mix, different cuisine[1]).

Basilica de Santa Maria & Plaza de la Independencia, Panama City

Panama exists as an independent nation because of political shenanigans much encouraged by the US. But it was only in 1999 that Panama got full sovereignty over the Canal Zone, a 10-mile-wide strip that split the country. Fun fact: there's a word Zonian that's used for Americans born in the Canal Zone — a prominent Zonian was John McCain.

Naturally, there's still American influence; an interesting one is the currency. Panama issues the balboa, equivalent to one US dollar, but American money is also in free circulation. You might pay for something in US dollars and get change in a combination of Panamanian balboas, US dollar coins, and smaller coins issued by both countries. At least currency exchange wasn't a problem. :)

Plaza Herrera, Panama City

While in Panama City, we sampled the local cuisine, which as you'd expect is heavy on seafood, plantains, and rice. We didn't really have time to go deep, but I did like what we had.

Lunch at the Mercado de Mariscos, Panama City

A notable stop for us was the Panama Canal Museum, which exhibits the history of the isthmus, its inhabitants, and the canal. This includes details about the, mmm, stressful period between 1967 and 1999 when Panama made an ultimately successful bid to regain its territory and to run the canal. More about the canal anon.

Plaza de la Independencia, Panama City, with the Panama Canal Museum behind

Side note: I looked at Panama hats (actually from Ecuador). I went to a place near the hotel and got a detailed explanation about differences in style and quality (and prices, hoo-boy) from a shopkeeper. But I'd decided that they weren't my style, so I was all, like, uh … thanks, bye. Bet he wasn’t too happy.

Next up: The Cruise Begins

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[1] A simplistic take, I realize — the cuisine of Mexico is vast and varied. In coastal Mexico and the Yucatan it's probably similar to Panamanian cuisine, but I don't have much experience with that. [^]

It is (was?) a tradition in high school annuals to have a selection of "senior superlatives" — "best looking", "funniest", "most likely to succeed", like that. I was thinking about Christmas songs and thought we should devise superlatives for those as well. Here are my votes.

Weirdest premise: "Little Drummer Boy"

Least Christmas-y "Christmas" song: "Hallelujah" (Leonard Cohen). Honorable mention: "River" (Joni Mitchell). Second runner-up: "My Favorite Things"

Most suggestive: "Santa Baby"

Most likely to inspire you to break up with your true love: "The Twelve Days of Christmas"

Most repetitive: "Feliz Navidad". Honorable (though at least amusing) mention: "The Twelve Days of Christmas"

Most dismaying example of social capital as a function of recognition by influencers: "Rudolf, the Red-Nosed Reindeer"

Most likely to get someone in trouble: "Baby, It's Cold Outside"

Creepiest 24/7 surveillance: "Santa Claus Is Coming to Town"

Most unexpected rhyme: "Good King Wenceslas" (Feast of Stephen/crisp and even)

Least remember-able lyrics: "Frosty the Snowman"

Most confounding question of where the commas go: "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen" (click to watch video)

Strangest/least known second and subsequent verses: "Jingle Bells"

Most obvious declaration of holiday greetings as a transactional exchange for payment in the form of figgy pudding: "We Wish You a Merry Christmas"

Most obviously translated line: "Silent Night" (round yon virgin)

Most disappointing from otherwise good songwriter: "Wonderful Christmastime". Honorable Mention: "Happy Xmas (War Is Over)"

Saddest: "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas"

Most number of references to ghosts in a Christmas song: "It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year"

Most northern-climates coded: "White Christmas"

Containing lyric most likely to make some people uncomfortable: "Deck the Halls"

Most insulting to the protagonist: "You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch"

Least appropriate for an elementary-school holiday program: "All I Want for Christmas Is You". Honorable mention: several others.

I have an electric ukulele, which has a jack on the side:

At some point I noticed that the jack had come loose — the nut that holds the jack tight had come off and disappeared and the jack had fallen back into the body of the ukulele.

Well, I thought, I'll go get a replacement nut to hold the jack in place. The first thing I had to figure out was what exactly I was looking for. The nut that holds the jack tight is called a jack nut (reasonably) or a switch nut (because it's used in electronics to hold switches tight):

At that point I decided that I should contact the company I'd gotten the uke from, a small firm that I think (?) is in Oregon. After some back and forth I managed to convey what the issue was. They were then happy to send me a replacement nut. But … it didn't fit. Given how hard it had been to try to get sizing info for the nut, I wasn't sure that going back and forth with them was going to be fruitful.

Ok, I decided, time to go to the real pros: Tacoma Screw Products. This is the kind of place you can go and say (as I did back in my motorcycle days) "I need a galvanized 12-millimeter bolt that's 3-1/2 inches long and has a 1.5 thread pitch" and they'll be all like "coming right up, boss".

I took the uke in and showed it to the guy at the counter. He got out a ruler and a pitch gauge, then said "Let me see what we have". He went in the back and came out with a selection of nuts that we tried. But once again, nothing quite fit. A second counter guy came over — nothing like a little fit problem to pique the interest of a bolt professional — and he had a look, too.

We were sort of stumped at that point, but then the second guy asked "Have you tried American Music?" It turns out that there's a music store not far from TSP that has a full-service repair shop. Huh. Well, I had nothing to lose, right?

So I took my problem to them. There were four of us hunched over looking at the uke, and the guitar tech asked if he could take the uke in the back. You bet. After a bit of time, he came back out and said "Got it!" He'd rooted around in a box of loose jack nuts that they had on a shelf, and lo and behold, he found one that fit. Perfect. I offered to pay for the part and/or for their time, but they wouldn't hear of it.

There were some lessons here for me. One, of course, was to not let the jack nut come loose, whoops. Then I learned about jack/switch nuts and that there is surprising variation in their sizes. Then I learned that if you have an instrument-repair issue, take it to an instrument-repair shop. (My final stop would probably have been an electronics store like Vetco, where they surely have switch nuts?)

Something I already knew but that was reinforced is the value of patronizing stores that are staffed by experts — people who know their stuff and who are pleased to help. So a shout-out again to McLendon['s] Hardware and Dunn Lumber, to Tacoma Screw Products and to American Music, all staffed by super-helpful, knowledgeable folks.

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[1] Nearly universally called "McLendon's" with that nice possessive s, including in the URL of the company itself (www.mclendons.com).

As a fun walking project, I walked around Lake Washington. Not at all at once, of course — it's possible to walk the lake in one day, but that takes a special kind of person.[1]

I ended up walking around 65 miles. (I didn't track my mileage closely, but I walked between 7 and 15 miles for each segment.) I mostly followed the Lake Washington Loop, a well-known route for bicyclists, which is 50 miles. But I also deviated from the Loop in order to stay close to the lake and to, you know, check stuff out and to wander through neighborhoods that I don't really know.

I did the walk in six segments over a couple of weeks. I used public transport to get to and from the endpoints for each leg.

• The 6 segments
• Map
• Photos
• Randon observations

The 6 segments

1. North Seattle to Bothell (Lake City–Lake Forest Park–Kenmore–Bothell)
2. Bothell to south Kirkland (Bothell–Juanita–Kirkland)
3. Kirkland to south Bellevue (Clyde Hill–Bellevue–Beaux Arts Village)
4. Bellevue to south Seattle (Bellevue–Newcastle–Kennydale–Renton–Bryn Mawr–Rainier Beach)
5. South Seattle to UW (Rainier Beach–Seward Park–Madrona–Madison Park–Arboretum–UW)
6. UW to North Seattle (UW–Laurelhurst–Windermere–Magnuson Park–Lake City)

If you know the Seattle area, you might recognize that I got more ambitious with each leg.

Map

Here are some maps (taallll, sorry about that, but that's Lake Washington).

The numbers indicate photos. I don't have a detailed map of the route, oh well.

Lake Washington north

Lake Washington south

Photos

The corresponding photos. (I took a lot more photos than this, but I reckoned there was an upper limit to how many times anyone needs to see my mug.)

1. Log Boom Park, Kenmore

Kenmore has invested in providing attractive public spaces, this park being one of them. While sitting at the park you can watch Kenmore Air seaplanes taking off and landing.

2. Juanita Bay Park

This is a beautiful natural area that gives you a sense of what the lakeshore must have been like before it was densely settled.[2]

3. Doris Cooper Houghton Beach Park, Kirkland

The city of Kirkland has a series of parks along the water and has carved out little public shore access points.

4. Chesterfield Beach Park, Bellevue

I took a little detour through the Beaux Arts Village neighborhood of Bellevue with the idea that there might be vistas of the lake. There weren't many, but there was this tiny park. (Many steps down and then back up, oof.)

5. Mercer Slough, Bellevue

A wonderful natural area that's only a tiny bit marred (ahem) by having a freeway running over it. That said, you can follow trails from South Bellevue Station all the way to Renton.

6. Eastrail Corridor

I loved this trail; it was a highlight of the walk. For some reason the Google Maps walking route guides you away from it, but ignore them — it runs uninterrupted to Renton. Among other landmarks is the Seattle Seahawks training facility.

7. Gene Coulon Memorial Beach Park, Renton

A gorgeous park and surprisingly (to me) big.

Some of the local denizens.

8. Cedar River, Renton; Renton Municipal Airport

The Cedar River runs through Renton (under the library!) and emerges into Lake Washington after going through the Boeing 737 plant. But you can still get close to bits of the river.

Renton Municipal Airport takes up the southwestmost part of the lakeshore. It's where new and refurbished 737s take off to be distributed to airlines all over the world.

9. Rainier Beach

The swing around the south end of the lake is the least picturesque part of the loop, imo. The Boeing 737 plant and the Renton Municipal Airport sit on the lakeshore, and even once you're past those, it's a long-ish walk up Rainier Ave S to Rainier Beach. I was surprised that there was a sidewalk, albeit sometimes overgrown, the whole length of Rainier Ave S.

10. Mount Baker Park

The trail along Lake Washington Blvd S going north from Seward Park is mere feet from the shore. It's no wonder that they film car commercials along there.

11. Madison Park

I wanted to stay close to the shore so I aimed at Madison Park. It's a slight detour — to keep going north, you have to juke west a bit up E Madison St to get around Broadmoor. But then you get to go through the Arboretum, and that's nice.

About to step onto the Arboretum Loop Trail.

12. Montlake over 520

The recent Montlake improvements are great for pedestrians and bicyclists.

13. Laurelhurst

I've lived in Seattle for 45+ years and I'd never once set foot in Laurelhurst, so another detour. The photo is at a pocket park whose official name apparently is NE 31st St Public Shore (East) Street End Park.

14. Windermere entrance to Magnuson Park

As with Laurelhurst, I decided to take a little detour through Windermere. There's a trail from there to Magnuson Park.

15. Matthews Beach Park

After walking through Magnuson Park, I ran out of real shoreline, so I went up the Burke-Gilman Trail to Matthews Beach. And from there I made my way back to Lake City.

Random observations

• For a fair bit of the walk, you can go on dedicated trails, but parts of the route are along city streets.
• When I'm walking, the Burke-Gilman trail just feels iffy to me, given how fast some bicyclists ride.
• Nice neighborhoods mostly have sidewalks, but not always! Corollary: as a walker, I've become extremely interested in how safe a street is for pedestrians.
• Nice neighborhoods often have (open) bathrooms in their parks. Backups are community centers, libraries, and indoor malls. I have to plan accordingly.
• You can stay fairly close to the lake, but there are a few substantial impediments that force you off, such as the Renton Boeing plant, Husky Stadium, and various communities like Broadmoor.

I did amuse myself thinking about how many alerts I might have set off on Ring cameras and on the Nextdoor app while I was walking through different neighborhoods. :)

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[1] From the Seattle Times: Here's what it's like to walk around Lake Washington in a single day.

[2] I am reminded that the lakeshore looked considerably different before it was densely settled because the lake was also almost 9 feet higher. In 1909, the Corps of Engineers made the Montlake Cut that connected Lake Washington with Portage Bay and Lake Union without locks. This drained Lake Washington so much that it was significantly lowered. This was "good" for commerce but was environmentally egregious, ruining salmon runs on which local tribes subsisted and who knows what other habitats.

My first car was a 1968 VW Beetle. This was an honorable tradition in our family — my Oma drove a 1959 Beetle, and my mother had a 1973 "Super" Beetle. I am (was) a third-generation Bug owner.

Technologically, a '68 Beetle was trailing edge even in its day. Everything was mechanical; no fancy fuel injection, no electronic ignition, none of that. On the plus side, this retro-tech made it practical for an owner to do a lot of the maintenance themselves.

Aschwanden's illustration of a Volkswagen's brake system

(The engine ran and took me all the way from Denver to Seattle, so my work and/or the step-by-step instruction was apparently good enough.)

Doing a tuneup and oil change in my uncle and aunt's driveway, Bakersfield, Aug 1979. I look a little perplexed, not sure why.

Shifting gears (haha). Sarah's car died yesterday; she parked it for an errand, and when she was ready to head home, it wouldn't start. So this morning I cleaned the battery terminals, and that seemed to resolve the no-juice issue. But the car was running noticeably rough.

If this had been my 1968 Bug, I would have known what to do: get a small screwdriver and adjust the idle speed, which is something you can (could) do via a spring-loaded screw on the carburetor.

I knew, of course, that Sarah's car doesn't have anything so manual — we're several (many) decades beyond carburetors and idle-adjust screws. And I don't have a book about how to keep your 2005 Toyota alive for the compleat idiot. But now there's Google and YouTube.

What I discovered is that if the battery has died or been removed, you need to "reset the idle". When there's no battery, the car loses its mind and has to be retaught basic functions, like what speed it's supposed to idle at, weirdly. There are no screwdrivers involved — basically, you start the car and then put it under different load conditions (A/C on, idling while in Drive) until its memory has been reset.

I don't entirely miss the days of having to get your hands dirty (literally) to do car maintenance. There are many ways in which having the car be "smart"[3] improves the performance and probably life of the car.

Still, it does feel a little more … distant? is that the word? … to not be able to find a knob or a screw someplace and be able to turn it to adjust the engine.

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[1] Is it possible this is the original "Idiot's" book? If not, it might be close.

[2] This book has a well-deserved cult following; he wasn't kidding that it was for the "compleat idiot", i.e., the completely inexperienced. As I have noted at other times, I learned a lot about both Volkswagens and technical writing by studying this book intently.

[3] "Everything's computer", to quote our Car-Salesman-in-Chief.