(And people wonder why I live here?)

BEARDINGHAM
Searching for the whiskery truth
by Trail Rat
Reprinted from Cascadia Weekly, Bellingham, WA
2-SEP-2009, page 14

LOPE DOWN your average street in Bellingham -- or pretty much any city, town or hamlet throughout the greater Pacific Northwest -- and chances are good you'll encounter more facial hair per capita than anywhere else in the United States (outside Alaska).

Like magic tonic, the deep primeval forests, extra-rugged terrain and cool maritime weather are capable of conjuring forth an inordinate amount of chin whiskers that help provide a living, hirsute connection to this wild and woolly landscape we are fortunate to call home.

Whether you're as hairy as a Sasquatch or hairless as a naked mole rat, the sheer density of goatees, groove patches, chin straps and beardos running amok here in this furry little corner of the world can prove downright disorienting on a multitude of cultural and geo-emotional levels.

As one of my more well-primped and closely shorn visitors from Bristol, England once remarked, "The people here seem really quite friendly, yet often I find it inordinately difficult to discern where the beards end and the men begin."

Over the past couple decades Portland, Ore. has racked up an enviable resume of quality-of-life accolades including: Greenest City in America (2008), Most Bike Friendly City in America (2007) and Most Microbreweries Per Capita in America (2006).

However, earlier this year, when news started circulating that P-town had proclaimed itself to be the "Beardiest City in America," something rang badly false.

Could the Rose City really be beardier than Bellingham?

Inexplicably, but not unexpectedly, it turns out the Portlanders at Portland Monthly Magazine who made the aforementioned proclamation apparently thought they could fast track their way to the top by neglecting to incorporate a single measurable statistic in support of their preposterous postulation.

Rather than formulating quantitative proof of P-town's beardiness through verifiable data, these wily whisker wannabes pathetically interviewed eight "randomly selected" beard wearers from the streets, made reference to the "Volkswagen-sized beard" on their city's two-and-a-half story Paul Bunyan statue and boastfully laid claim to the furriest NBA player of all-time: former Portland Trail Blazer Bill Walton.

Being a journalist of semi-ill-repute myself, the idea gradually took root in my mind that Portland's sloppy reporting not only damaged their credibility, but it also seemed to present a viable opportunity for Bellingham to best Portland at its own hairy game.

All I needed to do was gather up some actual data and generate a few statistics.

Thanks to the first-ever Bellingham Facial Hair Survey (BFHS 001), it didn't take long. While manning a top-secret mobile observation station on East Magnolia Street between Cornwall and Railroad avenues during the hour between 1:30-2:30pm Wed., Aug. 5, 2009, I personally counted each and every available beard on the street.

Of the 184 male pedestrians who passed by me either on foot or bicycle during that time, I tallied 56 beards (ear-to-ear facial hair), 33 goatees (around the mouth only), 18 mustaches (upper lip only) and seven groove patches (lower lip only), for a grand total of 114 hairy-faced men.

Speaking statistically, 62 percent of men in downtown Bellingham are currently sporting some type of facial hair, including a whopping 48 percent with ear-to-ear beards or goatees.

Portland, are you listening?

Nearly half of the actual real-life men up here in Bellingham are currently chin-whiskered and on the loose.

Paul Bunyan and Bill Walton, my ass.

Who’s the Beardiest City in America now?