Back in the mid sixties, I went fishing a lot, every afternoon after work, and most weekends. On one of those weekends I was driving up I-5 and took the Mount Vernon exit to the East. I disremember the name of the road, but it led into the Cascade foothills. There was a soapstone quarry on the North side of the road being worked by a man on a front loader. I stopped and talked with him, asking if it was OK with him if I took a piece or two of soapstone to play around with. He said it was fine with him as long as I confined myself to chunks no larger than a man's head, he made his living quarrying the stone for artists, stove, and sink makers. If you ever price a soapstone sink, be sitting down when you do it.
Anyway, to make a long story interminable, I played around with that stone for a few months discovering it could be carved, smoothed and polished quite easily. I made quite a few pipe bowls out of it, some in pretty fanciful shapes. I never did smoke tobacco in any of 'em, just that funky smelling green stuff. The last bit I ever lit was on July 31, 1968, the day before my wedding. After that I had too many responsibilities ever to behave that silly again.
I suppose that soapstone deposit is still there, and it might be OK to liberate a few small pieces to make a pipe or two and maybe some beads or gewgaws of some sort.
If I could find it again.
Three Hawks