A Day At The Solstice Fair

Today was the Solstice Fair.

 I had designs on catching the parade, so I headed down to a nearby bus station to hop a coach to Fremont. When the first one pulled forth, it was packed right to the door with people, all of whom had the same idea about a mile upline of me. I didn't even bother trying to press in to the jumble--it was a nice day. I'd walk.

While I was preparing to cross over to the Burke-Gilman trail (an impressive bike path running basically from the westernmost end of Seattle to somewhere east of Lake Washington), a trio of nude cyclists flashed past me. It took me a moment to remember that Fremont's Solstice Parade is famous for this. The police actively don't care, and even act to ensure the parade route is unimpeded (and the flow of traffic safely redirected). These ones were on their way, and had evidently decided to leave home in that state. While these people were unmarked, most of the others I wound up seeing were partially-clothed, bodypainted, or both.

 Thusly snapped out of my everyday sense of expected social behavior, I hit the trail. I'm ludicrously out of shape, but I have developed the ability to push myself and turn effort into exercise. Thinking ahead, I'd brought a walking staff in case I sprained an ankle or something. Despite my poor fitness, I still walk faster than just about everybody when I hit my stride...and soon I was breezing past the other pedestrians on the footpath.

 It was a warm summer morning as I cleared the north shore of Lake Union. Industrial and dockyard businesses provided a junktech aesthetic I love--and passing Gas Works Park gave it a bit of corroded steampunk flavor. For some reason, large machines appeal to me in a way I can't describe. Even the most mundane pieces of construction equipment and loading facilities draw my attention. However, I was soon distracted from the metal titans.

The numerous flowering plants lining the trail were aswarm with bees! I have noticed their numbers seeing to dwindle in the past couple of years; possibly this is Colony Collapse made evident (or I might be imagining things). This spring I saw a few fat bumbles soldiering on at the blossoms, but next to none of the smaller, more gregarious honeybees. Bees are one of my little pseudo-totemic relations, and it did my heart good to see the rows of flowers bustling with the traffic of pollen-covered workers.

Some of the bees appeared to be odd color variants. Some years ago I began to notice that not all bumblebees were the familiar teddy-looking variety. A few new kinds entered my perception, and today I saw at least three new variants. I wonder if species ranges are overlapping in new ways, or if I simply never payed attention before. Most odd, I saw several of what looked like unfamiliar honeybee variants. 

 An old-fashioned child's lemonade stand had been set up along the trail--enterprising youngsters were charging a dollar per serving. I made a somewhat over-their-heads joke about the cost of lemonade inflating so much since I was a child, then payed them for a glass. Soon after, I passed the gathering area for the bicycle portion of the parade.

A horde of people on bikes, in various states of dress and undress, painted over in every conceivable pattern (tasteful, titillating and artistic alike) milled about, waiting for the signal to start. Let loose before the general parade, they received cheers and applause from the tightly-packed people filling the sidewalks. I glimpsed a nearly-nude skateboarder with incredible reflexes--I say this because he actually tripped off his board and twisted around in midair to catch himself on the only protected part of his body (his shoe-covered feet).

 After pushing my way through several city blocks' worth of crowd, I suddenly realized I'd hit my limit. Sneaking off to the merchant's row, I found a place offering free reiki and used it as an excuse to meditate and calm down. It wasn't an intensely spiritual experience or anything--but it was relaxing. 

 After that, ice cream sounded good. I found, to my utter delight, cinnamon ice cream--something I can't find *anywhere* most of the time, and it was at Coldstone of all places. After another long walk through the market, back around the parade line, and through Fremont to Stone Way, I ducked into a nursery and a bookstore to recover from the crowd. At the former I was seeking sundews (which they didn't have), while at the latter I discovered a wonderful collection of antique books. After browsing for long minutes (enjoying the smell and feel of old binding), I picked a biography of Ghengis Khan that is, at a guess, over seventy years old.

By the time I got home, I fairly well collapsed from exhaustion.

Still, it is very nice to live in a place where this sort of event takes place--even if I exceeded my social threshold several times over just visiting. I don't mind--the book, ice cream and exercise were all worth it.