Visit Port Gamble, Washington

A place to eat, shop, get married, and see ghosts!

“If you hurry you might make this ferry,” she said, handing back a receipt with my debit card. This was a challenge.

We drove across the empty waiting lanes. Caught a green light, turned left. “Slow down! They’ll yell at us if you’re going over 20!” Jessica laughed. We glided right onto the ferry. The last car to board.

Ferry workers hosed down the boat where cars left oil and dirt as they loaded. I watched a man in a bright orange vest place wooden blocks behind our Volvo’s rear tire.

“We didn’t even plan this,” Jessica said, amused. “We got up, left without looking at the ferry schedule, and boarded.”

I could tell she was happy about our good fortune. Then I remembered wanting something warm to drink for the ride over, but kept driving. I didn’t get off the freeway for a warm drink. I felt I needed to continue. Otherwise we may have been the first to board the next ferry with a 30 minute wait.

We were traveling to Port Gamble. Established by William Talbot and Andrew Pope as a company town in 1853. The location was selected as a the mill for its abundance of trees, and a bay for transporting lumber to California. This combination gave visitors scenic vistas of a wide captured ocean nestled in the arms of a lush forest. The town’s New England style architecture and historical vibe makes you feel as if you’ve been transported to a small town on the Atlantic in Maine.

After we drove off the ferry, it was time to grab that warm drink and take a short drive to Port Gamble.

I took the town’s ghost tour. A Halloween event, without a sugar rush pre-Covid. An annual tradition offered to patrons 16 and older.

The tour began in the Historical Museum. Where you’re guided with various stories about supernatural events. Our host explained scientific instruments used in recording unexplainable phenomena. The tales made me uneasy, nervous to be alone, and curious about the town.

“In this exhibit a set of foot prints mysteriously appeared in the floor’s dust,” he said. The tour guide motioned to a roped off area. A room with a rocking chair, table, and some strange artifacts dating back to the towns origin. “It is humanly impossible for anyone to make those prints,” he paused for effect. “Unless you jumped over this rope,” he said tugging on the red velvet barrier. “Balanced on that rocking chair. Did a 360 in mid air to land on the floor with your feet facing south.” He observed the crowd, letting that bit of information sink in. “Then do it all over again! Leaving without disturbing anything else in the room.”

After the museum, we were lead outside into the dark. We followed our leader to the community building. A place during daylight is used for the towns post office. But during the trip its restrooms held ghostly stories. Our guide didn’t fail to spark a little fear while offering us the use of the facilities.

“It has been said that a little boy will pull on your shirt, run fingers through your hair, and bounce a ball. Beckoning for you to play with him.”

The white ceramic light fixtures alone gave me the creeps.

After the restroom stop we went back outside. Headed up a small hill towards the town’s cemetery. The most obvious place for ghostly apparitions. The tour didn’t let up on Port Gamble’s historical significance. We learned about battles fought, stories of the town’s first settlers, and the strange abundace of metal in the earth around the town. A metal some paranormal investigators hint at being the source of the area’s ghostly inhabitants.

I remembered the frightening tour as we drove through town on a sunny September day.

The town greeted us with a sign, “Port Gamble is Open.” The pandemic, lack of tourist dollars, has been hard on this community. We drove passed well manicured homes, parking in front of the towns most haunted house. A place I ventured inside two years ago. Now I wondered if the spirits felt restless. Being left in solitude without disturbance during 2020.

Would they be more active after being left alone for a year?

I looked up at the Walker-Ames house. The jewel of Port Gamble’s ghost tours. A spot reserved by supernatural investigators, gathering information to explain the residence’s bizarre activity.

I remembered what the tour guide had said that night, standing outside the house on Halloween night. “People report seeing the faces of small children, peering out the attic window.”

I hesitated. Then took a quick peek. Courage fueled by the warmth of the day. Nothing, the curtains were closed.

Did I just see a tiny hand?

“Let’s check out the gift shop,” Jessica said, pulling at my arm. “Then we can walk around, check out the venue for our wedding.”

We shopped and bought unique gifts. Enjoyed a picnic under a large maple near the bay and strolled lazily around town. We killed four hours, relaxing, planning for our future, and dreaming of what it was like to live here in the past.

When we left I wondered about our wedding reception. Imagining if waltzing ghosts would join in during our festivities. Participating in the merriment celebrated by the living.

I hope you find time this Halloween to have your own haunted adventure. CMad Poet

Christopher Madsen, author of the Limerick books:

Ice Cream for Breakfast on Mondays and Tacos for Brunch on Tuesdays