People of Aloha, I'd like to apologize.
In my travels, I've successfully written about abandoned logging camps, forgotten train depots, innocuous crossroads, and a lake bed that we keep draining and refilling.
Nothing has been harder than covering Aloha.
Part of the problem is definition: What is Aloha, anyway? It's not a town. As an unincorporated area, there's no municipal government. There's no city hall to photograph. There are no official boundaries.
So to define Aloha, I'm going to rely on the U.S. government: Aloha is a Census Designated Place (CDP). CDPs mean a lot of people with out a lot of self-governance. Here is the Aloha CDP boundary in 2020:
This definition has it's shortcomings. Who are a bunch of statisticians in D.C. to tell us what is and isn't part of Aloha? Parts of Reedville and Hazeldale likely feel more Aloha-like than not. Many have an Aloha postal address.
The area was originally called Wheeler's Crossing, after Ira Wheeler who owned the land in the the early 1900s when the train stop opened. The Westsider rail line had been operational since the 1870s so I'm not sure of the circumstances that caused them to add the station later.
The station was renamed "Aloha" in 1911. The reason and the name's origin is disputed. Either the railway renamed it or the first post master did. Both practices were common at the time. The important takeaway is that Aloha used to refer just to the small railway depot where TV highway bumps out at 185th.
Everything else now called "Aloha" is somewhat an artificial construction to help us group people together. That introduces my second complication with writing about Aloha: I've already visited most of it.
Many places near or within the CDP and traditionally considered part of Aloha got covered as I passed through on other rides. So what does that leave?
Well, the Aloha Grange is still active and very near the old train station on 185th:
And, of course, Aloha has their own WashCo library branch:
That's...about it. TV highway is a very developed commercial corridor. While great for chain restaurants, automotive repair, and a lot of specialty legacy shops, it's not a great place for bicycles. The sidewalks are non-continuous, as is the bike lane and shoulder.
Aloha's unincorporated status is on full display with the transit corridors. Without centralized oversight, pedestrian pathways are erratic. "Mixed-use" blocks reflect a lack of planning more than the new urbanist aesthetic of South Hillsboro.
Single-family housing occupies most of the area. 50,000 people have to live somewhere, I just don't know if it's appropriate for me to photograph all of their houses.
So what did I miss? Is there hidden Aloha history I haven't seen yet?