Tesla Olympic Road Trip

Position: 47°55’22″N 124°38’24″W

Crunchy Pacific Northwest virtue signallers all drive Teslas. Every one of them. Without exception. How do I know? Because we recently rented a Tesla in order to flip off any gas guzzler we deemed unworthy of common civility. Don’t misconstrue the fact that the cost of renting a Tesla is nowadays equivalent to any infernal combustion engine (ICE) equipped car out there. Or that the recharging cost per mile is half that of gasoline. Being a cheapskate has nothing to do with virtue. Virtue is an end in itself.

However, should you choose to follow our lead and flip off, sorry, virtue signal, a burly guy wearing a confederate flagged baseball cap driving a diesel belching monster truck with a fully loaded gun rack, do it with a Tesla capable of ‘Ludicrous Mode’. That electric honey accelerates from 0 – 60 in under three seconds and does it with a beautifully linear torque curve. And those three seconds of neck-snapping oomph is about all the time you’ll have to outrun the hail of bullets headed your way. (Sounds a little judge-y, bordering on sanctimonious – just saying – ed.)

Valhalla

More scientifically, after one of our kids had their car totalled by a geezer running a red light, we felt a parental responsibility to help them choose a new vehicle. The question is, are fully electric cars practical? Sure they’re fun. And virtuous. But can you get from A to B? And how far apart can A and B be before range anxiety sets in? Questions like these are particularly important in more thinly populated areas of the country. To find out, we took our rental for an Olympic road-trip. That’s a trip around the Olympic Peninsula, not a metaphorical trip to Valhalla and back.

Driving north from Vancouver along 1-5 as far as Longview, we turned our white as rice Tesla Model 3 (a cheapo short-range version) west towards the coast. With 80% charge in the tank (that’s bank, surely – ed.) we blew past the supercharging station in Kelso and threw caution to the winds. After all, what’s the worst that could happen? Getting towed to a power outlet someplace? Knocking on a stranger’s door and begging for a few kilowatts of power?

With a normal household current of 120 volts at 15 amps, it takes 24 hours for a Model 3 to charge up fully. In case of an emergency it makes sense to keep a case of beer handy and serve it as an icebreaker for your new friends. You’re going to be there a while. Besides, we like meeting people. Note, at a Tesla branded Supercharger, the batteries recharge in under an hour. A full charge gives you about 270 miles, kinda, roughly. As long as it’s not too cold out.

Naloxone

Buzzing on, we passed Naselle and turned north towards Aberdeen. The navigation system helpfully tracked our progress and continually updated our arrival time and remaining charge. It was optimistic for the first 100 miles, then increasingly pessimistic for the last 50. With 5% left in the bank, (what is the e-vehicle equivalent of breathing fumes? sucking ions?), we coasted up to the Supercharger, parked and plugged Kangal Lover in. (Since Turkey, we name all our rentals Kangal Lover.) After almost three hours at the wheel, it was time for a bowl of pretty darn good chowder at the Breakwater Restaurant, just around the corner.

What’s Aberdeen like these days, you ask? Well, the Breakwater’s loo has a poster in it reassuring patrons that Naloxone (the antidote for an opioid overdose) is available for the asking. My assumption, therefore, is Kurt Cobain’s down-at-heels hometown hasn’t changed much in the 29 years since his death by heroin.

Surf

By late afternoon our feet itched, and we headed to the coast for a hike. Rialto Beach stares out on the Pacific Ocean, which in this part of the world is anything but calm. At one end of the beach, James Island sits just outside the mouth of the Quillayute River. From there the coast curves north towards Cape Johnson, making it a perfect place for all kinds of flotsam to fetch up in the winter storms. Massive cedar and redwood tree trunks pile up all along the shoreline, tumbling and tangling with each other. Happily, the beach was clear of man-made debris. A stiff breeze fought the broken sunshine for dominance, and we quickened our pace to keep warm. Small, round pebbles rolled and crackled under the surf. The tide was well up, but we managed almost four bracing miles before returning to the car.

Laying in a course for Sequim, our route glided alongside Lake Crescent. If you want to test your car’s cornering abilities, there’s no finer road between A and B in this neck of the woods. Several years ago my buddy Tom and I took the same route on our motorbikes. Black ice played mind games with us and leaning into the corners while dragging a knee wasn’t an option. This time things were different. Late afternoon, warm tyres, and heavy regenerative braking meant I could push the car with confidence. It held its path like it was on rails.

Parody

Handling, by far, turns out to be the most pleasing thing about this otherwise dull little sedan. Its exterior styling is meh, and the interior austere to the point of self-parody. Tesla’s designers set their sights on eliminating every button found in a traditional car. Why shouldn’t all functions be electronically activated? Then all the controls, dials and switches could be written into software and displayed on a big touchscreen smack dab in the middle of the dash. I suspect the Feds directed them to include traditional, cable actuated door handles in case of an emergency. Something like an electro-magnetic pulse from a nuclear explosion might be strong enough to fry the computer, making it impossible to open the doors without a back-up mechanism. Ironically, we couldn’t open the glovebox. A prior renter added a PIN to it via the dashboard, sealing it forever.

Sucking ions, we arrived at the best value accommodations Sequim (pronounced ‘Squim’) has on offer. Post-pandemic America has seemingly lost that most fundamental concept of capitalism, competition. It’s as though every hotel jacked up their rates with complete disregard for the price/occupancy equation. Of course, when occupancy goes to 0, then prices can reach infinity without consequences.

Our room at the Olympic View Inn was that rare trifecta of cheap, cheerful, and clean. By 19:45 we were ready to eat. Sequim had already rolled up the sidewalks. Nary a kitchen was serving. Rather than starve, we grabbed the last two edible sandwiches at Safeway and called it a night.

Brilliant sunshine woke us and had warmed the car’s battery enough that we reached the next Supercharger with a bit left in the bank.

Tally Ho!

Port Townsend beckoned, and specifically the workshop of the sailboat, Tally Ho! A YouTube sensation, the restoration of this 113-year-old yacht has taken five years, so far. If you like sailing, or history, or Englishmen, or woodworking, then there’s something in this grand adventure for you.

Leo Sampson Goolden (a Brit, sailor, and woodworker), bought Tally Ho! for a dollar back in 2017. Through sheer willpower and coercion, he brought her back to life. Her launch date is a secret, but it’s not far off. I knocked on the door and grabbed a brief tour, as much to get a better sense of her scale as anything else. Outside of Maine, Port Townsend probably has the biggest concentration of wooden boat builders in the country. Leo’s project has launched many a shipwright’s career.

Later that morning, Carol and I walked around Fort Worden Historical State Park. Worden, along with Forts Flagler and Casey, made up the ‘Triangle of Fire’ at the far northeastern corner of the Olympic Peninsula. The idea was to prevent an invasion via Admiralty Inlet and protect the Puget Sound Shipyards. Construction of the fort started in 1897 and the base remained active until it closed in 1953.

Heavy guns, installed in 1901, never fired a shot. Of the 41 artillery pieces on site, 36 were shipped off to Europe during World War I. Today you can camp, hike, and play around the gun emplacements. The army buildings now house an array of artsy studios, educational institutions, and hotels.

Leadfoot

By early afternoon we were ready for a fast trip down to Vancouver. Joining I-5 at Olympia, Kangal Lover had enough charge to get us all the way home if we wanted. Two Superchargers sat on our path, so range anxiety never entered our heads. With leadfoot Kemble at the helm, we learned the optimal speed for a Tesla 3 is as fast as you think you can go without getting caught. In our case, that’s the speed limit, and no faster, officer. Dib, dib!

Shocked!

We enjoyed our time with the Tesla. The company’s network of chargers allows owners access to most of the country, provided they do a bit of planning ahead of time. Much like riding a motorcycle in eastern Oregon, you can adventure anywhere you like, as long as you plan your journey around available charging stations. For commuters and folks that don’t stray far from home, electric cars make a lot of sense right now.

Charging non-Teslas in the countryside is, by all accounts, a little more challenging. The general charging infrastructure isn’t as consistent, or as quick as Tesla’s. That will change. Standards and regulations are on the way, along with a bunch of Federal funding to kick-start a reliable charging network.

All-electric cars accounted for 5.5% of car sales in Q3 2022. They’re projected to reach 70% only by 2040. That’s a pretty steep adoption curve, but shows that the ICE isn’t quite dead. Electric cars are quiet, quick, nimble and demand a fraction of the maintenance of gas-powered ones. Providing prices come down, and manufacturers keep up with demand, I’d be shocked if today’s electrified virtue signallers don’t prevail. Shocked!

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