As the sun started to head for the mountains, the train rolled through Baring, Washington, a blink-and-you-miss-it kind of place with a population of just 255, according to the 2020 census. It sits along a rare stretch of U.S. Highway 2 that’s surprisingly flat and straight, unlike the winding, dramatic curves that make up most of the highway through the Cascades. Locals call this part the “Baring Straight,” which made me laugh once I realized it was a pun on the Bering Strait between Alaska and Russia. My kind of humor.
Baring was originally named “Salmon,” which makes perfect sense. The Skykomish River runs nearby, and the area has a deep connection to the fish and the people who have depended on them for generations.
From my train window, Baring felt like one of those little places that lives quietly in the shadow of bigger, louder destinations. But there’s something comforting about that kind of stillness—something honest.
And here’s a fun fact: Baring was once home to a speakeasy during Prohibition, hidden in a log cabin deep in the woods. Apparently, even tiny mountain towns needed their moonshine.
The train didn’t stop in Baring, but I kind of wish it did so I could have looked around. It seems like the kind of place where time slows down just enough for you to catch your breath.
