Port Angeles is a city on the Canadian border in the Pacific Northwest, sitting squarely on the northern edge of the Olympic peninsula in Washington. During our stay of two days there last week, I expected one of two things. It was either going to be a small town with an aging population, a few overpriced businesses, and a feeling of deadness that catered to tourists visiting Olympic National Park. Or it was going to be a typical suburb-town on a main road with a McDonalds, a Starbucks, a ShopRite, an insert-your-favorite-chain-here. I expected a place whose best days were behind it or a faceless, nameless one that could’ve been anywhere in the country.

 

I don’t really have all the right words to describe what I felt. I haven’t traveled too much in America, but I’ve found that most small towns fit the two molds above. Port Angeles was so memorable because it felt like a real place.

There is no McDonalds or Starbucks. There is no ShopRite. Nor is there a PlanetFitness or a Hilton or a Bass Pro Shop. Port Angeles is filled with local businesses. They’re not just stand-ins for the chains – variety seems to emerge with smaller establishments. They’ve got a grocery store in a garage, a country-style general store, and even a barbell gym. There’s a coffee shop every few blocks and restaurants range from fast food to fine dining. Locals seem to run each business. Perhaps as a result, they’ve evaded the homogenization of logos and interiors that we’ve seen in recent years where everyone’s got the same minimalist, techy branding.

 

These businesses weren’t boutique and “local” like many are in tourist towns (see: Bar Harbor, ME). They were frequented and run by Port Angeles residents. Baristas knew the names and orders of the customers who walked in. Cashiers recommended other shops for the things you couldn’t find. There were still young people in this town. Port Angeles seems to have evaded, at least partly, the exodus of all of its youth. I can tell why: the city has fun things to do and an array of work to find. It’s even got a BMX track and a boat racing spot! And it's only a ten minute drive away from one of the best national parks in the country.

 

I’m not sure how Port Angeles does it. Maybe it’s zoning — the superstores and chains were pushed to the very eastern edge of the city. Maybe it’s an insular place, where no one leaves and no one moves in. Its homogeneity in culture, ethnicity, and socioeconomic status probably helped. All of these combined to create a place that felt starkly different from most others in this country. The city was alive. Port Angeles seemed to be protected by a force field against government-subsidized, local economy wrecking franchises.