twisps and turns

panorama panacea.

it's a random, nonsensical collection of letters ~ as if a monkey had whacked the keyboard hoping to be rewarded with a banana:

twisp.

it looks kinda weird sitting on the page like that. what's a twisp, after all? old-school breakfast cereal? a fancy cookie? an uncomfortably tiny car? yeah, no.

twisp is an unexpected little town in washington state, up in the methow valley north of wenatchee, and a long way from what i imagined.

for starters, the mountain scenery ringing the town is mesmerizing, boggling. with 300 days of sunshine a year, you can soak up the views ~ and the free vitamin D ~ instead of slogging through an overkill of overcast in seattle.

then there's the creature comforts.

after driving more than four hours to get to twisp, i was hungry. i was hungry again after running the race i went there to run. come to think of it, i was hungry pretty much the entire time i was there. so, thankfully twisp had options. which is to say "good options." one was tappi, where i ate twice. it's an italian place with a wood-fired oven at which john, the owner and chef, skillfully cooks everything that needs cooking. the service was equally good. by the second evening the waitresses were calling me by name and one of them even brought me a pair of readers so i could see the menu without holding it past arm's length. she just kind of swept by and set them on the table, without a fuss. i found this very endearing.

at lunch one day i ate at the twisp river pub, which brews its own beer and serves up better-than-bar food. outside, the actual twisp river flows by, and deer wander along its banks. really. culinary note: their hefeweizen was excellent, the halibut chowder was full of halibut, and somehow the chicken quesadilla was way above average. i think it must've been the roasted pasilla peppers.

the glover street market is a health food store with an impressive selection of beer, wine, cheese, and baguettes. which really are health foods, from many a standpoint. i bought some of each there, including a goat chèvre, a bottle of locally brewed new school ESB, and an intriguing spanish red table wine. all of which i enjoyed over the next couple days on the expansive deck at the methow valley inn.

the MVI was recommended by the folks at methow endurance (which hosted the race which, as noted previously, i ran). when i wasn't running, however, i was busy being very comfortable at the MVI ~ a sprawling, homespun, turn-of-the-last-century farmhouse. terry, one of the owners, is a genial host, full of local knowledge he's happy to share...and he cooks up a mean locavore breakfast. i would recommend his place to anyone (unless i want to stay there and there aren't enough rooms, in which case i'd say, "no bueno, stay away!")

look quickly, step lively.

finally, there was the race (did i mention there was a race? yeah, there was). the rattler half marathon is set in stunning pipestone canyon, about 25 minutes northeast of twisp. the course features over 2000 feet of elevation and miles of views that would love to distract you from the trail (and the rattlesnakes).

trouble is, too much sightseeing here is a health hazard. faceplanting the trail at any one of a thousand moments is a deceptively quick-and-easy possibility. rattlesnake encounters, we were told, also are not uncommon. so, basically it was a good idea to be at defcon 5 the entire time.

note: no rattlesnakes were reported, nor any mountain lions, which also enjoy roaming these hills. hunting monkeys banging on keyboards, probably. the race was a blast, and i would love to run it again next year.

where are we going with this? nowhere, really. except to say i left twisp wistfully, wishing there were some financially feasible way to live there. it's not that it's expensive ~ houses are cheap and acreage is abundant. but unless you show up with pockets-ful o' money or can make a living online, there's not a lot going on, economy-wise.

then there's the small-but-important detail that the children would go ballistic at the prospect of small town life, and the missus likely would go stir crazy in the winter. it'd be "the shining" in reverse, with my lovely wife, axe in hand, announcing, "wendy, i'm home!" or some variation thereof.

sigh. so...while there's no likely prospect of a life in twisp, i can at least lobby for visiting more than once in a brigadoon.

it's a reasonable alternative to the random and nonsensical...

Tommy Albright: Look, I'm not saying I believe all this, but just for argument's sake, suppose... suppose a stranger like ~ well, like...like me ~ came to Brigadoon and wanted to stay. Could he?

Mr. Lundie: [gives him a long look, then smiles] Aye, he could, lad. Mr. Forsythe provided for that...