Kurt R.A. Giambastiani

Across the Sound there is a place where, when the day is young, I can walk the forest trail and emerge, my shins wet from wading through ferns heavy with dew, and climb the concrete steps to ramparts set high atop a bluff overlooking the steel-grey waters of the Salish Sea.

To my left and right are circular platforms, plinths now empty of the artillery that commanded the height, and below my feet are the echo-filled bunkers, storerooms, radio posts, observation slits, and command centers that bustled with life during wars now long quiet. Only remnants remain of those days—rusty studs where the massive twelve-inch guns were once bolted down, heavy iron doors hanging on broken hinges, clapboard-sided buildings now shuttered and silent—but there is something else here, something that permeates the place and raises the hair on my arms.

Spirits seem to walk with me, spirits of men who lived here, who built these emplacements, who manned the batteries, who trained for war. Thousands lived here over the years, marching on the parade ground, patrolling the green-banked battlements, keeping a keen eye out for the enemy, drilling, eating, sleeping, laughing, fighting, writing letters, glad for the beauty of the place but still wanting to go home. I can hear their stories as I walk.

“Open your mouth and cup your ears or when that gun goes off you’ll be deaf for days.”

“Reveille comes too early on these winter mornings.”

“I miss my girl.”

This is Fort Worden, now a state park, but formerly used by the US Army as an artillery post and training ground. The guns protected the entrance to Puget Sound, and the men trained for battle in Europe and the Far East. For over fifty years, it was a place of military precision amidst the beauty of spruce and madrone, salal and swordleaf. Now, deer walk through the concrete caverns and along the empty roads.

The Fort never fired a shot in anger, never saw enemy action.

The century-old buildings have been repurposed for use by educational and artistic institutes, and the houses and cottages may now be rented for a quiet getaway, a wedding among the trees, or a family reunion. Fort Worden is situated on the outskirts of Port Townsend, a quaint Victorian-era town and one of my favorite places, only a ferry-ride and a short drive away from my home.

This was our first time staying at the Fort; it’s quiet in February, which suited me fine. I walked for hours and hours, up hills, through forests, exploring tunnels and cisterns and the lichen-clad fortifications. We were treated to a glorious sunset, an equally beautiful sunrise, and then the grey and rain one expects from Puget Sound in mid-winter. But after being snowed in for a week, it was an uplifting change.

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