The Beautiful Stranger

There are some pipes the impact of which I feel so much that they are imprinted indelibly in my memory, I want them so much. Worse, they are the persistent ghost–the unbidden visitor who strides into any moment, however inconvenient or distracting a presence they may be.

And when the owner refuses to part company with the pipe? Does this settle the matter? No. If, anything it’s worse, akin to the beautiful stranger who, once seen, cannot be unseen nor forgotten. The indelibility of these memories astonish me. When there is so much I struggle to remember, these things I cannot forget. There is more than a little truth to Buddha’s admonition that the root of all suffering is desire. Such was my experience of the sandblasted bent bamboo apple depicted above.

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Einstein's Last Pipe

When it comes to the 20th Century and those people who make up humanity’s landscape of the times, there are a few people who towered above everyone else, who not only defined their own time but also the times to come. Albert Einstein was most certainly one of those people. His was truly an Olympian perspective.

I find this photograph tremendously evocative. It is a picture of Einstein’s desk at the time of his death. Nestled among his papers and notebooks we see his pipe and tobacco humidor. Captured here is a pipe-smoker’s place, a revelation of penultimate moments within which we see a man of ideas who loved his pipe.

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Last Saturday

A portrait of me done by Scott Stultz last Saturday morning at the smoke shopSome days stick in one’s memory. They are not necessarily defined by joy, triumph, or tragedy, either. These days can be unremarkable by their appearances except that they hold a mirror up to one’s life and tell a story. They say, “This is where you are. This is who you are. And your character—all of it, good and bad—got you here. So pay attention.”

Last Saturday was one of those days in my life where events conspired to soften and to humble me. And is so often the case when these events spill from the calendar into memory, friends are at the center of the story.

I awoke early, knowing that my friend Scott Stultz would arrive at my home in the early morning. He had planned to strike out before dawn from Baltimore where he had spent the night. Although we speak on the phone often, it had been nearly six months since I’d seen Scott in person—a long time since we used to get together a couple times a month when I traveled near his home.

Scott had driven down for the day and an overnight. We had planned to meet another friend who was in town from Arizona for early coffee and subsequently join other friends for breakfast before heading to the smoke shop for our Saturday gathering.

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A Visit to Raven's Grove

NAR and DJ Basset before dinner. Photo: Magalena BassetOver the years, I have increasingly come to understand how important the friendships and community I have experienced in the pipe community are to me. Because my work requires me to travel considerably, I’ve had the privilege of getting to know a lot of people in real time that I have come to know in online pipe communities. It is amazing how much fun I have and how rewarding these friendships are to me.

The wild Olympic range. Photo: lassi kurkijarviOn my recent visit to the Pacific Northwest, while I was out in Washington’s remote Olympic Peninsula region, I drove out to Sequim to meet and visit DJ Basset, a man who has become a friend in my online pipe community. Sequim is a strikingly beautiful community on the Dungeness River located near the base of the Olympic Mountains–a wild and rugged snow-capped range that towers over the region.

Clark’s Chambers in Sequim, WashingtonAlthough Sequim is remote from Seattle (where I was staying during my visit) because it is on the Juan de Fuca Strait just across the water from Victoria, British Columbia, it is one of the earliest settled regions of the Pacific Northwest. While I was there, I stayed in a first rate bed and breakfast: Clark’s Chambers. This B&B is situated on the oldest family-owned farm in Washington state, a farm that the Clark family started carving out of the wilderness in 1850. My hosts, Bob and Glenda Clark, gave me one of the best breakfasts I’ve ever had during my visit. You all know I’ve had quite a few great breakfasts in my 60 years, but never one that was better. The large, old 1870s era farm house is gorgeous, in impeccable condition, and furnished with not just taste, but also with warmth.

If you’ve ever had the experience of meeting someone who has seemed like a lifelong friend, you will understand what a great time I had with DJ and his lively wife, Magdalena. A pipe smoker like me, DJ is also a photographer, but unlike me he was a professional and an extraordinary one at that. For many years, DJ was Ansel Adams’ assistant. After that, he founded his own practice and lab in Jackson, Wyoming where he continued to work with many of our era’s fabled shooters. Today, DJ directs the museum in Sequim. How great is that? More museums need accomplished artists at their helm who understand people, story, place, and community.

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Talking Shop

A week ago today I found myself visiting Richard Friedman’s shop in Bellingham, Washington where we spent a couple of days immersed in all things pipe. Our days together included pipe restoration, pipe-making, pipe-smoking, and a drive north to Vancouver, BC where we spent last Sunday afternoon with the Vancouver Pipe Club.

Richard Friedman concentrating on a pipemaking operation.Since I first planned my trip to the Northwest, I have looked forward to visiting Richard’s new shop. He is the first of my friends to have begun a journey from pipe collector to pipe maker. Although I am not surprised that he is enjoying his journey so much, the rate at which he has progressed surprises even me, and I know better than many people how skilled Richard is working with his hands and how relentlessly he applies himself to his interests.

Richard’s work as a charter yacht captain in Southeast Alaska requires a dizzying array of technical and mechanical skills. If something goes awry with the engines or equipment aboard the Alaskan Song, it is up to him to set things right, and it is not just the comfort of his passengers and crew that are at stake, but their lives, as well since the setting for such an event is the wild and remote Alaskan maritime wilderness. So, I was not at all surprised to discover a well-planned and thoroughly equipped shop replete with a wonderful array of vintage tobaccos, Northwest art, and every manner of tool both imagineable and unimagineable.

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