Steaming Through the Puget Sound Boom, Town by Town

Our party left Seattle, per steamer Idaho, on the evening of July 25th at 8 o’clock. Among the passengers were men of every creed and profession, some accompanied by their families and others as the advance guard of more to come. Many of the yeomen had their picks, shovels, axes, blankets and fire-arms. A majority had left their homes in the eastern States and Europe and were attracted to this El Dorado of the Northwest with a view of attacking the grand old monarchs of the forest, making clearings and building homes and villages; and by their sweat and toil turn the silence of the wilderness into life and activity, and pave the way for civilization.

Breakfast is served next morning while enjoying the novelty of being aground almost within stone’s throw of La Conner. In due time, however, the boat is at the wharf discharging a large quantity of freight. Meanwhile the passengers stroll through its thoroughfares. It is located near the mouth of Swinomish slough; it has a population of about 300, and supports several stores carrying large stocks of merchandise, two or three hotels, a harness shop, several saloons, a milliner shop, photograph gallery, a good school, a church, and a weekly paper, the Mail, edited by Mr. Power, and draws trade from a large agricultural district known as the Swinomish flats, or diked tide lands, adjacent to the town, which yield abundantly, also from a number of logging camps in the vicinity. It has had its boom; its town plot is almost filled. The lots are high—some of them are nearly a hundred feet above tide water. It rests content while Whatcom writhes in expectancy further north.

Moving up through Swinomish slough toward Padilla bay, the steamer is again stuck in the mud, and the other steamer, the Washington, overtakes us. The passengers cheer one another. She crowds past us, and takes the lead. Soon the Idaho is off and gives chase. Meanwhile we have a splendid view of the flats spoken of. The neat white farm houses, the green fields and the dark background formed by the pinery on the main land, a few miles distant, contrast beautifully, and loosen the tongues of our real estate men on board.

We reach Anacortes and Guemes about noon. The former is located on Fidalgo, and the latter on Guemes island with the roadstead of Ship Harbor, a mile wide, between them. They rival one another in point of population and business. Anacortes has one advantage over Guemes, and that is the Northwest Enterprise is published there under the management of Mr. John Swerdfiger, and it loudly proclaims its advantages as a terminal point for the transcontinental railroads. And, apparently to the displeasure of the Whatcom Reveille, boasts that Anacortes is the place alluded to by Gov. Newell, when he stated in a speech recently made at Whatcom, that the great city of the Sound would be opposite the Straits of Fuca.

Sehome is reached about 4 p.m. The new Whatcom wharf not being completed, we visit the town by means of row boats. A great inconvenience, which will soon be done away with. Whatcom has grown fast in the past year. It is receiving large accessions to its population. The settlement of the Nooksack country and the prospective British Columbia railroad have stimulated its progress. The town now contains a population of five or six hundred. It has an able exponent in its weekly paper, the Reveille. It supports several large hotels, stores, saloons, etc., and has a church, a good school, also splendid water facilities. Whatcom creek, the outlet of Lake Whatcom, situated three miles east, fourteen miles long by three in width, and having an altitude of 330 feet, sends its surplus waters down in a torrent; this is utilized by a partly completed saw-mill. Whatcom is irregularly laid out. Its streets are narrow and uneven, and real estate is held at figures that prevent the town from reaping the full benefit of the boom. Whatcom does not share alone its honors. It is disturbed by the pretentious hamlets of Sehome, Bellingham and Fairhaven. Each have a hotel, and extend down Bellingham bay, south of Whatcom, a mile or so apart, in the order named. The question for the future to decide, when these hamlets extend toward one another, is what name shall designate them.

Bidding Whatcom adieu we again board the Idaho and reach Anacortes next morning about 6 o’clock.

We were somewhat unnerved on observing the playful smile that straggled over Capt. Brennan’s face as he peered at us from the pilot house, as we made our way over the unfinished wharf to terra firma. We assured him that we did not invest in any corner lots or rashly attempt to get up a boom, but went a fishing, and lodged without the city gates.