Sig Hansen, infamous captain of the Northwestern on Discovery Channel’s “Deadliest Catch,” is reading from his new book, “North by Northwestern,” on May 3 at the Leif Erikson Lodge.

In a Seattle Times' interview with writer Jack Broom, Hansen discusses the changing face of Ballard and Ballard Avenue: “The weekend farmers markets he dismisses as ‘frequented by sandal-wearing recyclers ... storefronts that once sold hardware and ship supplies are now boutiques ... It's not clear to me what they sell.’"

I’m a sandal-wearing recycler who loves the Ballard Farmers Market. So in advance of the reading, I decided to look and see if all of the old Ballard Avenue businesses had gone the way of boutiques.

Just two weeks ago, Sam Peterson of Associated Wood Products (formerly on Ballard Avenue, now on Ballard Way) recounted the loss of part of a finger due to a “stupid mistake” in his shop. That’s old school.

He told me that his friend and landlord Dick Olsen didn’t even seem to care about the blood on his car upholstery, but insisted that Sam fasten his seat belt.

South toward the Ballard Bridge, Seattle Canvas Supply intersects Ballard Way and Ballard Avenue – the beginning or end of Ballard Avenue depending on your point of view.

Seattle Canvas Supply was founded in 1882 and is still family-owned. They specialize in marine work, declaring they will make virtually any marine accessory. They have expanded into mattress-making, of course customizing mattresses for boats (haven’t you ever wondered how a mattress fits through a companion way)?

Moving north on the avenue, Ballard Hardware and Ballard Sheet Metal are still in business, with Ballard Hardware so geared to “industrial, marine and construction trades since 1952” that I can’t identify most of their products.

Broomfield Marine Exhaust next to Bad Albert’s is certainly no boutique. Bad Albert’s Tap and Grill sounds tough, until you learn that Albert is actually a cat.

At Sutter Home & Hearth, it’s obvious what they sell; the owners and staff can talk barbeque with the best of them. But, would a Norwegian fisherman like Sig Hansen really put a Big Green Egg in their backyard?

Moving farther north, there are the boutiques that Hansen cited, but also storefronts for architects and artists, the guitar emporium and one of the last truly great thrift stores run by volunteers of Ryther Child Center League. There are still the bars and taverns, place for music and pool.

Just north of the Bell Tower (which used to ring) is Eidem’s Custom Upholstery, serving Ballard since 1954. It’s obvious by the glass storefront what happens inside. Barrels of fabric bolts almost block the entrance door. Everywhere else is furniture in progress: a couch up on its end, a chair on a work table. Rusty old springs, old stuffing, barber chairs.

Howard Eidem is second-generation, born just two blocks away at the old Ballard Hospital. “You could say I haven’t gotten too far,” he said smiling.

When it comes to change on Ballard Avenue, Howard has been there to see it happen.

“There’s always change, you have to have change," he said. "I remember when there was police or ambulances on the street every day because of the brawling.”

He also remembers playing little league on the Loyal Realty team and how it was a treat to go to McDonald’s after a game. “Back when they’d only served 100,000.”

Adjoining the workshop is a room with thousands of fabric samples on little hangers, plus so much completed furniture there is no passage.

Everyone always admires a little chair in the window that was paid for but hasn’t been picked up for years. Howard thinks the owner might be dead. His lawyer told him he needs to advertize it as unclaimed property, of course it’s the chair that everyone wants to buy.

Howard wears sturdy shoes (not sandals), drives a big white van and used to toss empty coffee cups behind the driver’s seat before his daughter bought him a “go” cup. Everyone in his shop works with their hands. But Howard also works with fine fabrics and matching trim, Queen Anne chairs and restaurant and banquettes. Would he fit the category of hardware or ship supplies?

So Sig Hansen is right. Some storefronts of businesses that supported the marine industry are boutiques now – and no one on Ballard Avenue is speaking Norwegian. The UPS guy and Rhonda the letter carrier were both wearing shorts, but neither were wearing sandals.

Ballard Avenue has changed. The brothels are gone. Businesses have left; closed, retired or relocated. On Sunday, the Farmers Market shoppers are a parade of people carrying their own canvas bags, buying fresh eggs and warm bread, organically-farmed potatoes and bunches of beets.

But come Monday, the businesses are open again—the boutiques and the machine shops. Ballard Avenue is still a vibrant, thriving, changing mix of work boots and high heels, protective eyewear and outrageous hats, longtime watering holes and new espresso machines.

In sandals or work boots, Ballard Avenue is the intersection of the past, present and future, no matter where you stand.