Oysterville Street Sign
Understandably, visitors to Oysterville are often confused about our lanes. I’m not talking traffic lanes here. I’m speaking of the three wide grassy paths that head east from Territory Road and end a block or two away at the bay.
Once upon a time they were a working part of the road system in Oysterville and they still retain their names. Clay Street is directly in front of the church. Merchant Street runs between Cyndy’s new house and Mike and Mary Gray’s place. Division is north of Kepners’ and south of the R.H. Espy house. Years ago John Hampson made the street signs that are usually in place.
An Occurrence All Too Frequent
It’s the Clay Street sign that is most often missing. That’s because tourists visiting the church frequently mistake our lanes for parking lots and certain RVs are just the right height to knock that Clay Street sign asunder. It has spent many days and nights in our garage being re-glued, re-nailed, re-screwed and generally re-habbed.
If asked (and even if not asked), I explain to folks that the lanes are still “dedicated county roads” and that yes it is permissible to park along one side or another as long as cars can still get by. I usually get a rather blank look, so I add in a serious tone, “The oystermen still use the lanes when the tide is right and they need access to the bay.”
Looking East on Clay Street
Yesterday, though, I think the workers driving down the lane had other business along the bayshore. It was mid-morning when I first noticed activity at the far end of Clay Street. Six vehicles were parked down there and since the tide was about at half-staff (which is my way of saying it was halfway, though I’m not sure which halfway it was – in or out) and I could see a couple of men heading south (but not east toward the oyster beds), I leapt to that conclusion.
They might have been environmentalist types looking for vestiges of Spartina or other invasive species. Maybe they were a group of clam entrepreneurs. Or, for all I know, they could have been birders or members of a watercolor class. I really have no idea. But it pleased me that their vehicles had driven down the lane and that the drivers had parked near their destination point.
I like it when the lanes are used ‘as God intended.’
They were probably scientists studying the invasive grass. Maybe John Hampson, the psychiatrist, made road signs after he had put up a no trespassing sign in the middle of the lane. After my mother consulted with him about it, he removed it. We had a good laugh when there was an article in the Seattle paper telling how he had especially selected the color of the paint trim for his house by scraping paint off the cannery and matching it. I had been looking for that can of paint that I bought to brighten up the kitchen cupboards!
Ann, I remember well when John Hampson tried to prevent cars from going down the lane. It went far beyond a “no trespassing” sign. He actually blocked the lane with a line of sunken pilings and when your mom (then well into her 80s) went to speak to him about it, he blew her off. I remember how angry my mom and I were at John. I also remember the beautiful letter that you daughters wrote to John admonishing him, the ‘newcomer’ for presuming to tell your mom, a true old-timer, what was what. I think I still have a copy of that letter somewhere. (Actually, I think Katherine wrote it and the rest of you added your names to it.) I was never prouder to have the Holways as neighbors!