On Taking a Trip (to Twin Peaks!) By Yourself
Solitude, Sentiment and the Magic of David Lynch
By Zuzana Remes
Snoqualmie Falls and the Salish Lodge and Spa in Snoqualmie, Wash., on May 17, 2025. One of “Twin Peaks” recurring film sites, the Lodge is fictionally termed the Great Northern Hotel. // Photo by Zuzana Remes
Exactly four months and one day after the passing of Filmmaker David Lynch, I woke up with the pressing urge to take myself on a trip.
I’m mostly content with my day-to-day life. I’m surrounded by people whom I deeply care for, and who care for me. Routine and companionship bring a sense of comfort. It’s both a joy and a relief. Yet, because of this, it is easy to fall into the same patterns each day and go about life blinded by habitual conveniences.
Sometimes, as when I awoke that morning, a call to solitude rings in my ear. Since I was a young girl, I’ve felt that without ample time alone, I’m unable to know myself. To be without your own company is to fall outside yourself. Like a shadow without a body. I believe you cannot know who you are until you know yourself in solitude. Taking a trip alone can help with this.
Mourning the loss of someone you’ve never known, let alone a public figure, can seem odd. Still, we do it. Since I share a place of birth and two out of the astrological big three (Scorpio rising, Virgo moon) with Lynch himself, I like to think we have some sort of connection.
Transportation-wise, I was limited to my 2004 RAV4. Luckily, I didn’t have to go far. The land of murdered homecoming queens and dreamscape hotel lobbies was only two hours away. So, I set my Maps app to North Bend and Snoqualmie, Washington and drove to the home of David Lynch’s 1990 surrealist crime series, “Twin Peaks.”
The Way There
I realized my phone was nearly dead a little over halfway into my drive. What would otherwise seem a small inconvenience was, in this case, a realization: I have little idea where I am going. I am dependent on technology to guide the way. This is the thing about being by yourself; it brings a series of mini-realizations.
Slightly on edge, I pulled into a gas station hoping to pick up one of those chargers you shove in the cigarette lighter. I found one. The thing was covered in dust and had probably been sitting in the rickety plastic box above the counter for half a decade. It can hardly be called a charger—on account of the fact that it doesn’t charge—but as long as my phone is plugged in and angled correctly, the little lightning bolt will pop over the battery and hold steady at whatever percentage it's plugged in at. So my $22 at least ensured I could have directions. Without the Bluetooth adaptor that previously occupied its place, I had the voices of Anita Lane and Lesley Gore on CDs (gotta love estate sales) to keep me company.
The Falls and the Great Northern
The fog around Snoqualmie Falls in Snoqualmie, Wash., on May 17, 2025. It casts an eerie, cinematic atmosphere over the iconic filming location. // Photo by Zuzana Remes
The first stop was Snoqualmie Falls—that 268-foot waterfall I had only seen in the fading transitions of “Twin Peaks’” opening credits. To see it now, in real-time, was like looking at something too vast to understand. It was beautiful. Insanely so. A bit frightening, even, because of its sheer size.
“The mist in the air here is sacred,” said an older woman to a rowdy girl pulling on her leopard print coat sleeve as they curved around a bend in the trail.
She spoke of powerful spirits bound to the land. She lightly told the girl to tread more carefully.
People were buzzing all around—a divergence from the near-empty roads in town that led me there. The density of people was matched only by dewdrops, little pockets of condensation clinging to the leaves of surrounding greenery. The mist hovering in the air was thick. In time, it became a fog, obscuring the view of the falls completely in mystery.
A family with rich Southern accents asked me to take their photo when the fog cleared up. Now I wonder: is this because I was alone? I’ve added them to my memory now. (Would I have if I were in the company of others?) Probably. I’m overthinking it. I watched people come and go, and the mist began to dampen my hair, as if it were cleansing me.
Three men around my age, dressed in sporty windbreakers, had been there long enough to remember the fog before it lifted. One told the rest, “It was not looking like this when we first got up here.” The rest exaggerated their nods in agreement, somewhere between feigning shock and true awe.
The thing is, the mist moves nearly undetectably. Before your eyes can register what is happening, the view is hidden in a fog (or unveiled as it quietly disperses). It’s a slow magic, like the secrets of “Twin Peaks”, hiding in plain sight.
Above Snoqualmie Falls sits the Great Northern Hotel—in reality, this building is called the Salish Lodge and Spa. On the outside deck, rather than Special Agent Dale Cooper sipping coffee and rambling into his microcassette recorder, a woman posed for photographs in front of an old-timey-looking camera in her lacey white wedding dress. She wore a girlish smile on her face, clearly overjoyed. I wonder how she’s doing now.
The Diner
Sign for Twede’s Cafe in North Bend, Wash., on May 17, 2025. The cafe is the filming location for the Double R Diner in “Twin Peaks.” // Photo by Zuzana Remes
The next stop, about a fifteen-minute drive from Snoqualmie Falls, was the historic Twede’s Cafe. For my purposes here, the Double R Diner. Built in the forties, the cafe's classic Americana look serves as a crucial backdrop to many of “Twin Peaks’” most emotionally charged moments. And of course, it’s a good place to get a damn fine cup of coffee.
On my drive, I passed a small psychic shop selling $25 tarot readings on the side of an isolated street. I didn’t stop, but for a minute, I did consider it. Other passing scenes included what looked like a Little League baseball tournament and a large herd of elk scattered amongst a handful of 1890s-style train engines. There was a railway museum nearby, so this wasn’t a surprise.
I ended up parked in a shopping center lot since the diner’s street parking was full. Walking there, I noticed the building was mid-remodel. Inside, I was seated in a leather booth by a soft-spoken blonde hostess. A sign plastered to the wall by my side explained that the café had recently been sold to local “Twin Peaks” fans, who were now working on renovations.
Inside Twede’s Cafe/the Double R Diner in North Bend, Wash., on May 17, 2025. The cafe has a retro 1940s feel. // Photo by Zuzana Remes
I watched the little animatronic doll of Shelly Johnson, the Double R Diner’s waitress and small-town sweetheart, slowly sway on the countertop. A bit odd, but charming. She’s always been one of my favorite characters in the series for her sweet demeanor and hidden snarkiness. Instead of Shelly brewing coffee behind the counter in her light teal 1950s dress, there was a handful of uncostumed waiters, presumably about her age. Their multicolored water bottles sat clustered on the counter where the cigarette packs and elbows of FBI agents once rested. Coffee was brewing just the same, though.
The red vinyl counter stools caught the shine of neon geometric strip lights mounted to the ceiling. My booth was near the back—ideal for people-watching. The waiter who served me wasn’t unfriendly, but he certainly was direct. He sat on the stools across from me as he took my order. Michael Jackson’s voice floated through the speakers: “Billie Jean is not my lover.”
Photos of the cast and crew of “Twin Peaks” in Twede’s Cafe, North Bend, Wash., on May 17, 2025. The photos are found slightly hidden on a red wall near the back of the diner. // Photo by Zuzana Remes
I ordered a burger and a cherry Coke. I had planned on coffee, given its cult status, but my hike worked up a real appetite.
I kept thinking about how odd it would be if I worked here, given my fixation with the show. But with my waiter constantly calling out to the nonchalant busboy, “Connor, plates please,” I thought maybe it would blur into any other restaurant job.
The food was good, but nothing spectacular. I was there for the ambiance anyway. On my way out, I bought a Double R Diner sticker to remember my trip. I left feeling whole. It was nice to create a memory just for myself.
Photo of Laura Palmer, played by Sheryl Lee, in Twede’s Cafe, North Bend, Wash., on May 17, 2025. The series focuses on the mystery of Laura Palmer’s murder. // Photo by Zuzana Remes
What Stays With You After
Travelling with people you care about, you leave with a sense of togetherness. When you go places alone, you discover why something matters to you. In the art of “Twin Peaks,” I had found a place filled with things both strange and unseen. I felt more connected with those hidden parts of myself after my trip.
While the happenings I’ve gathered here through eavesdropping and observations initially seem mundane, they highlight the heart of the matter. The reason for my trip and the reason I’m writing this now: I wouldn’t have felt connected to these strangers or moments, probably wouldn't have even noticed some of them, if my trip hadn’t been a solo one.