Well ALRIGHT!!! As long as soooo many of you have asked, I'll tell my tale of "The Little Quilcene Cafe!" (You can thank me later ... send money).

This adventure happened at least 20 years ago, back in my hiking days. I was headed for a two week solo hike in the Olympic mountains of Washington State, NW corner of America. My first day of the "adventure" was always to get myself and my heavy pack to the East side of Hood Canal. I always spent that night there at the home of friends, and then they would drive me to the trailhead at dawn the next morning.

As I crossed the Hood Canal bridge and headed South on 101, Quilcene was the first, and just about only, village I came to. It was late in the afternoon and I thought I'd get supper there, so as to not trouble my friends.

I walked into "The Little Quilcene Cafe." Oh, it was SWELL. The town of Quilcene, in those days, was so small it didn't even own a stop sign. I grabbed a booth and looked around. I saw a man's face appear in the hole in the wall which must of been the kitchen. He stood his ground and we started talking.

He said his name was "Bob." He said that he was busy fixing the evening "special," but invited me to go behind the counter and serve myself to coffee. I did. As I was in no hurry at all, I started to really enjoy the conversation that happened. I moved to the counter so I could hear him better as he told me his story:

He said that he bought this small place, which was very pleasant and homey, to "save his life." It seemed that he had been a stock broker in downtown Bellevue until six months before. The pressure of that horrible job put him in the hospital emergency room with a heart attack.

After his successful surgery and recovery, he had found this tiny out of the way and rundown cafe. He bought it,lock, stock and stove. He'd never cooked anything before in his life but he figured that this was his last chance to learn to live.

He lived on a very tiny island in the hood canal, just behind the cafe. There was no running water or power. And he rowed a boat to get to and from the island. But it was his cabin, and he loved it.

After an hours' talking came the meal. By then several other customers had come in, including one lady who jumped behind the counter and served the role of waitress. I knew she wasn't an employee ... she was just "helping out."

When my meal arrived, I was astounded. It was a huge slab of baked halibut. And the flavor was awesome. And I still remember the fresh vegetables. They were barely steamed and almost raw ... PERFECT! I was in heaven.

Afterwards, as we sat over coffee, I asked "Bob" what his secret was. He smiled and said ... "Just garlic butter!"

As I sat in the car before leaving, I looked at that place and listened again to his story. This was a real success story, and I felt honored to have witnessed it. CHEERS, Bob(deckman)Nelson