Life Behind Bars
While you and I sit here, contemplating the vagaries of fate, another upscale bar has opened in Belltown. This is not unusual: Such bars appear in Belltown at the rate of one every six seconds. By the time you've finished reading this piece, every last scrap of real estate in Belltown will have converted itself to an upscale bar. The fish-throwers will toss their wares into martini glasses and douse them with gin; the upscale boutiques will ask you if you'd like to accessorize that new gown with a necklace of olives, on the house.
By Geoff Carter | March 6, 2007
Life Behind Bars
I remember the sun. It was big and brilliant, it produced warmth, and it would rise in Bellevue and set in Ballard. Seattle once had an entire season of sun -- "summer," I think it was called -- and the city nearly lost its damn mind over it. People sat on beaches, dined on patios and cut back visits to the tanning salon to every other day. I even wore short sleeves.
By Geoff Carter | January 10, 2007
Gearing Up
Ask most folks what they're craving after a few days in the wilderness and the answer is almost always "a burger (or steak) and a beer." That's because it's so hard to pack perishable meats on multiday trips. Instead, we tend to subsist on carbs and fats (Dr. Atkins would have never made it as a backpacker).
By Kristin Hostetter | June 3, 2004
