Sunday Jan 15th- day 9

Today is the day for my Straight Liner. Call me pretentious ("pretentious!"), but I am going on a walk through the city, in a dead straight line (or as near to it as I can get), inspired by the Situationist International. You may have heard of them in connection with the Sex Pistols or Factory Records- the Hacienda took its name from an SI text, and many of Malcolm MacCLaren and Tony Wilson's hair-brained schemes and starry-eyed ideals come from Guy Debord and co.

Last night, I drew a straight line on my map, from where I live to the Space Needle. It seems like an appropriate destination as it is Seattle's major landmark, and it will be visible from a long way off, so I can head straight for it. It also represents a kind of pilgrimage to the future, I guess, at least the 1960s vision of how the future would look. For me, this is a way of experiencing the city in a new way, of being open to chance, of not taking the usual route straight through. It's an experiment- it might go wrong, it might go right, but it will hopefully be interesting along the way.

So in honour of Johnny Cash, I prepare to "walk the line". Today is also Martin Luther King's birthday. He would have been 76. I wonder what path his life would have taken. I doubt it would have been a straight one- there were certainly many obstacles in his way.

I pack a bag with a map (of course) and my book of experimental travel, which Rosy gave me for Christmas. I hadn't got round to boring her with my idea of walking in a straight line, so it was an amazing coincidence that she gave me this book. I also pack a flask of tea (I am English, remember) and some biscuits, I mean cookies. I take my camera to document what I see. And of course, I pop Roger into my pocket, so that I have got someone to talk to. If I talked to myself as I walked in my straight line, people might mistake me for some kind of mentalist.

So off I go, walking, taking photos, thinking, looking at the map, eating bisc- cookies, walking some more... I won't tell you the whole story here, you will be relieved to know. I might be able to write it up into a paper for academic journals, we'll see. And I might put all the photos onto a file-sharing site. But for now, I will give just the barest bones.

I saunter towards the University, going through studenty areas. I could tell it was a student area by the bittersweet juxtaposition of a thrown-out mattress and a broken ruler. Ahh, student days...


I skirt across the corner of the University campus. There is a museum of anthrolopogy, with some totem poles outside- I take this picture in honour of the big shiny totem pole I am heading towards. It also reminds me whose land it might be that I am marching across, now and in the past. Although the native Americans never contemplated that land could be owned- that's partly why they got so sytstematically swindled during the treaties.

Shortly I approach a rubicon of sorts, the University bridge, which runs alongside the Interstate freeway. On the other side, I see that someone is living under the bridge. I feel like I should pay my due to the city somehow, and so I make up a story about wanting directions. The person is a woman, old beyond her years. She has a cat, eating out a tin, and some booze in her hand. She can't help me with the directions. I give her $5. Her hands are purplish colour. Her name is Jamie.

Beyond this point, the journey is dominated by the water (Lake Union). My path should lead straight across the Lake, but I haven't yet perfected the walking on water trick. So I take the East shoreline. It's a rich person's playground. There are houseboats here. Apparently it is where "Sleepless in Seattle" was filmed, but I haven't seen the film. There are some coloured mailboxes (real cute), and I catch a first proper glimpse of the Needle, looming over the water.



So now I don't really need the map, but I keep it in hand so I can rejoin the line at the other side of the lake. The Needle is kind of mesmerising though, and as I pass lines and lines of yachts and trawlers, it looms ever larger.

At the end of the lake, I pause for a well deserved cup of tea. Some geese come over to check me out and make sure that I am not a big French stick on legs.

After the lake, I am soon back in the thick of the city, and the concrete surrounds me. At times like this, I wish I was fit and strong enough to do some parkour- it would be an appropriate response to the urban elements around me. But nevertheless, I am drawn inwards by the Space Needle, a great eye surveying the city. It's design is at once futuristic anc retro, classic and defunct, beautiful and odd.



I feel momentarily wobbly when I am still a few minutes off, as the Needle fills the sky above me. I stop and watch the young dudes in the skate park. But as soon as I am past a certain point, the Needle becomes banal, just another carbuncle. I take a well deserved rest in the rest room, browse through all the myriad ways in which you can get an image of the space needle (sadly, no tattoos available), and stand in line for my ticket. $13 and 41 seconds later, I am on top of the world, and taking in a fabulous 360 degrees view. The view across Puget Sound is great, as is the view across downtown, and back along my straight line towards the University District.




I meet the requisite "eccentric" and his dog called "Ozzy" (he has another dog at home called "Osbourne"). His owner engages in conversation with anyone and everyone, and says that he is hoping to come up the Space Needle 500 times this year. His long-suffering dog rolls its eys and seems to be whispering to passers-by "kill me! kill me!".

So this is where the straight line ends, and I share a lift back down with Ozzy and his man. I'm now free to walk in any direction I choose, and I head down to the waterfront for some Alaskan salmon and chips (with clam chowder to start). Mmmm. On from there to Pike Place market to buy some veggies for tea, then back on the 71 to 6041. When I get home, I realise that Roger is in my pocket, and that I forgot to show him the view, or even talk to him all day. When I get him out, he looks to have shrunk quite a bit during the day. He is evidently not amused at being overlooked, and asks to be left alone for the evening. I respect his wishes.