foxfirefey posting in metaquotes
roadrunnertwice is doing a well documented, awkwardly implemented home improvement project:
Uh, where does rope come from, anyway? Like, thick natural fiber rope. Boat rope. I was pretty sure I'd never seen it at Fred Meyer, and Next Adventure and REI only stock modern synthetic ropes meant for climbers. How the hell did I nearly reach 30 without knowing where to go when I need rope? What the fuck kind of sailor am I, anyway? So I asked Twitter.
I got some very well-intentioned replies, and I now know several sources in the Pacific Northwest for nice-smelling rope that feels soft and won't chafe too badly or leave splinters. (Ladies.) I also learned that I can save a lot of people (including myself) a lot of awkward blushing if I mention WHY I'm looking for rope in the first place. So, that happened.
Anyway, it turns out the answer for workmanlike manila rope is the Pope Rigging Loft, in industrial Northwest Portland.
It was butch enough in there to raise real questions about how I got to be such a sissy. Heavy presses. Men in construction gear loitering manfully. 1" steel cable rope harnesses for god only knows what. Spools of cable the size of a Honda. Hand-painted sign from the '80s explaining that OSHA says you can't go in the back. You get the idea. And then I rolled in on my little bicycle and asked for a mere twenty feet of manila. "You have some marine project you gonna use this for?" asked the guy. Nope, just indulging my nesting instinct.
They sold me some rope, though!