After weeks surrounded by wooded trails, buzzing bugs, and sleepy small towns, we rolled into our first real city in months — Spokane, Washington. It looked older and more worn than I expected. We didn’t stop, choosing instead to push forward toward Tacoma.
What caught me by surprise again — and took my breath away — was the reappearance of my favorite “disappearing mountain,” Mt. Rainier. Rising behind the city like a pastel-painted backdrop, it looked almost too perfect, like something out of a movie set: all pink, purple, and surreal.
Tacoma itself felt like a city of contrasts — nestled along the southern shores of Puget Sound, it’s a mix of mural-covered buildings, millennial-run brewpubs, industrial seaport remnants, and rundown side streets. We got the local take from a bartender at The Odd Otter, who described Tacoma as the “blue-collar little sibling” to the wealthier, shinier Seattle. After hearing tales of her wild family (worth the drink price alone), I figured we’d see for ourselves.
We spent the afternoon on a relaxed pub crawl, sipping local brews and chatting with interesting folks — the kind of people who make you wish you had more time in a place.
After a late lunch, we drove north to Puyallup (pronounced pew-AL-up), where we’d set up camp for a few nights. It was right in the thick of suburban sprawl, which made driving the Jeep into Seattle a headache. What should’ve been a 30-minute trip often turned into a frustrating hour in traffic.
Still, there were upsides: I was able to take the pups to Banfield Pet Hospital for their annual checkup (can’t let travel get in the way of keeping them healthy!), and — best of all — I made a long-overdue pilgrimage to Target. Oh, how I missed that red bullseye. Sometimes, it’s the little things.