ROBERT SIEGEL, HOST:
Now a new feature that we're calling Wish You Were Here. We're asking writers to share their favorite must-see spots with us.
Today, novelist Jess Walter takes us to Lake Union in Washington state.
JESS WALTER: At dawn, the sun curls across the lake's placid surface like a twist of lemon on a gin martini. Easing into my kayak on this glacier-cut 12,000-year-old lake, I feel as I always do on its water: alone in the world. Well, not totally alone. There is the crew team carving the water beside me, the coxswain's baritone, blades in, booming across the lake and the main sails of 100 sloops like rows of butterflies, the rust bucket fishing boats and bulldog tugs and barges, the endless parade of businessmen arriving by buzzing seaplane.
The shores are lined with houses and condos, streets and freeways choked with the grinding, honking, noisome traffic of - oh, I don't know - a million other people.
This is Lake Union, just north in downtown Seattle and my getaway the last 15 years. As a native of the Pacific Northwest with its thousand tree-lined mountain lakes, why would I come here? Because I love cities because there's something sublime about kayaking for cocktails. I've yet to get a PUI, paddling under the influence, but mostly it's because I'm an urban outdoorsman. I believe the best way to protect the wilderness is to stay out of it.
Lake Union is shaped like a lowercase R, anchored by the Space Needle to the south, the gothic mass of the city's old gasworks to the northwest and the University of Washington to the northeast.
In the morning, I kayak to Roanoke Street, walk up to Louisa's Café to the smell of frying bacon and the steaming hiss of espresso. It's a quick paddle through the "Sleepless in Seattle" houseboat neighborhood on my way to Portage Bay and a short walk to the university district's musty old bookstores.
Lunch is three fish tacos and an ice cold cerveza on the patio of the Agua Verde Paddle Club. Back in the boat, I ease through the cut connecting Lake Union to massive Lake Washington, its low concrete walls lined with crew graffiti, beneath the majestic Montlake drawbridge and the low-slung 520, languid ducks ignoring the traffic just overhead as they drift among the lilies of Washington Park Arboretum.
Back on Lake Union, I nap on the hammock I've hung from the girders of the Thunderbird Marina and then the hard choices begin. Salty carbonara at Serafina? Grilled mahi-mahi at the Blue Water Bistro? Chowder at Duke's? And the choices don't end there. After dinner, I might hear an open air concert from my kayak at Gasworks Park or tie up and walk to the live music at Nectar in Freemont or play shuffleboard at Brave Horse Tavern in South Lake Union.
But isn't this exactly why we paddle in a city? Because the people are here, because the choices are endless. Just remember to wear a life vest and don't be afraid to call a cab or, better yet, get a designated paddler. Hell, I'll do it.
SIEGEL: That's author Jess Walter on the joys of a day and a drink on Lake Union in Seattle. His newly published novel, "Beautiful Ruins," takes you to Italy.
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