Olympic Peninsula 2022

 

Day One, 9/21/22

Welcome to the Rain Forest of Olympic National Park

(A reminder: you can click on any photo to view it full screen.)

Two Guys 

    After an uneventful flight (the best kind) to Seattle Sheila and I find our rental car and hit the road, again uneventfully. Our GPS guided us, uneventfully, through the maze of downtown traffic to the Seattle-Bainbridge Ferry terminal. Then it gets eventful.

    We follow road construction arrows, missing our turn only once and finally drive into a parking lot. GPS announces cheerfully, "Arrived!" The parking lot is empty. We can see a ferry. Lots of construction going on, however, and no clear to get to it. We spot a worker and hurry over before he disappears behind a barrier. He smiles and says, "no problem." He points to a well-hidden exit. "Go there and take your first left."

    It does not look promising but at this point we have to trust his smile. It works! 

    We find ourselves facing a row of toll booths and past them, several rows of cars lined up. Enter Guy Number Two, at the toll booth. He smiles, hands us our ticket and tells us to ignore those lines and drive instead to an obscure lane between some more barricades. What? Really?

    Boosted by our second friendly encounter we find ourselves in another cluster of idling cars we hadn't seen and then...

    We're on the ferry and on our way to the Olympic Peninsula! Ahead of schedule! Soon we are driving on uncrowded two-lane roads through lush forests. We have lunch in Port Angeles (mediocre food, great view of the Strait of Juan de Fuca. Then we're off for our Air B&B, with a good chance to arrive before dark.

    A beautiful drive on the two-lane Route 101 becomes a twisty-turny joy ride along the shore of beautiful Lake Crescent. (More on this later.)

    As we near our B&B in the countryside outside Forks under darkening skies, we receive a rude welcome, an air attack! Termites, dive bombing into our windshield, causing as much distress as a blizzard. We can see them in the headlights moments before impact. They are huge. They collide with the windshield with loud cracks. Whap! Whap! Whap! It becomes difficult to see the road, and I have to slow down. It is like driving in a blinding blizzard.

    Luckily, we are close to arriving at our tiny cabin six miles outside of Forks, Washington. In the middle of nowhere.

The View from our B&B in Forks

Days Two & Three

 "I can hear the trees talking."

    Sheila described downtown Forks well, so I'll let her words start this off. "Downtown Forks intrigued us, laden with gobs of Twilight book and movie paraphernalia.We learned that the Phoenix author Stephanie Meyer chose Forks as a dreary place to set her super-popular tale, although she had never been there.

    "The Main Street Sasquatch shop harbored a lot of weird stuff, from towels to toys, to books with photos of old bearded guys (Sasquatch hunters!) on the covers. We became regulars for the mixed berry crumble pastries delivered each morning by a talented local baker.

    "A banner hanging across the main drag announced the upcoming Smart Septic Week. We could only imagine what we'd be missing."

    Sheila got to the Sasquatch store early the first day, while I was on the phone with my daughter. When I arrived, she introduced me to the young woman behind the counter, Nicole. "Nicole knows everything," Sheila said. "Then you are the woman I've been waiting to meet," I said. She gave us a great restaurant recommendation, The River's Edge, on the coast in La Push, and sent us to Mocha Motion, a drive-in coffee kiosk up Main Street that became a regular stop for us. As close to a knowledge of everything that we needed!

In line for our morning cuppa Joe.

    After getting our pastry and coffee, we headed off for our first visit to Olympic National Park, the Hoh Rain Forest. A lot of driving to get to anyplace here, twenty miles from Forks to the entrance to the park. But it wasn't a hardship; the entire landscape was beautiful. We passed the Hard Rain Café, a good stop for sandwiches, snacks and coffee, a campground and a treasure trove of quality artwork by Indigenous People of the Pacific Northwest. Then, on to the park entrance, where we encountered a minor traffic jam.

 

 The Hard Rain Café

 

 

 

 

Artist: Patrick Hunter, Ojibway, Red Lake, Ontario

 

Artist: Ronnie Simon, Gwich'in, Northwest Territories

 

In line at the park entrance to show our National Parks pass

     Our first day's outing was a short hike on the Hall of Mosses trail, our introduction to the temperate rain forest.

Rain Forest Tapestry

    Tired from a day of travel and a day of getting oriented to our surroundings, we headed for The River's Edge, on the Quileute Indian Reservation in La Push, for a delicious seafood dinner and a front row table with a grand view of the Pacific Ocean. 

    Near the restaurant, we decided to work up our appetites with a hike to Second Beach, located, believe it or not, between First Beach and Third Beach. In the dense quiet of the forest, Sheila said, "I can hear the trees talking." I could not hear the trees talking, but I also could not bring myself to doubt her.  I walked the forest carefully, as I always do, so as not to disturb the trees or the forest floor or the animals and birds that, with the trees, watched us. 

    At Second Beach, we took in with our eyes the offshore sea stacks and with our ears the surf and the wind. We found places to sit and we meditated. The wind talked to me, as did the surf. On our return through the sacred forest, my breathing spoke to me, and my heart spoke to me. You are alive and the brother to all that surrounds you. Seize this moment and be grateful. Later, my right knee spoke to me, loudly, complaining.

Second Beach, La Push, Washington

    After dinner, we drove home slowly, under the radar of the termites.

    The next day, we were back in the Hoh Rain Forest. With our lunch and plenty of water, we hiked the Hoh River trail. No need for words here. I'll let some photos tell the story.

The Hoh River

Rain Forest Reaching the Sky...

...And  Hugging the Earth

 

Mosses on Every Surface

Day Four, Cape Flattery & Shi Shi Beach

  

    On Saturday, we were eager to hit the road to Cape Flattery and what we thought was the most northwestern point of the lower forty-eight and the sight of a pretty amazing story of a sixteenth century Japanese shipwreck. We weren't so eager that we didn't detour into Forks for our strawberry crumble and coffee.

 

    It turns out we didn't have our facts quite right. Cape Flattery takes second place for most northwestern point behind Cape Alava, fifteen miles to the south and the actual site of the shipwreck. This fact took nothing away from a glorious road trip.

 

    About that shipwreck, it occurred in the nineteenth century, 1834 to be exact. The ship, the Hojun Maru, lost its rudder and mast off the coast of Japan. Currents pulled it across the Pacific for fourteen months until it crashed on the shore of Cape Alava. Only three crew members survived, one a fourteen-year old named Otokichi who went on to lead an interesting life. I wondered how they survived adrift for over a year. It turns out that their cargo was rice, and they drank desalinated ocean water. (I had no idea that they knew how to desalinate salt water two centuries ago.) A pretty cool story that I suggest you take a few minutes to read on Wikipedia.

    Cape Flattery is located on the Makah Reservation, where the small town of Neah Bay is the hub of activity. We procured out visitor passes and headed for the second most northwestern point. At the edge of town, a sign for Calvin's Crab House announced that we had found our spot for dinner after a day of hiking.

    I'll let my photos tell the story of Cape Flattery.

 

 

Morning Fog Lifts, Neah Bay

 

 

Vancouver Island seen from Cape Flattery

Looking south toward Cape Alava from Cape Flattery

    Next, it was off to Shi Shi Beach, which Sheila just had to experience because her grandkids call her Shi Shi (pronounced Shee Shee). We learned from a group of young backpackers that the beach name is pronounced Shy Shy, but what do they know? Out of earshot of locals, we kept to our own pronunciation.

    As we walked through yet another lovely forest, we noted that the trail was perched on cliffs high above the beach. The path to the beach promised to be long and steep, so we found a comfy spot near the steep cliff's edge to sit. No sooner had we made ourselves as comfortable as one can sitting on the ground, than we heard voices drifting up from below the cliff edge. Two young men were pulling themselves up the rugged terrain, using a sturdy rope tethered to a tree just below the cliff edge. The rope has apparently been left there for any hardy hikers who choose to take the short cut to the beach far, far below.

    We greeted the climbers and asked if they had made it to the beach. "About eighty percent," one replied. "We decided it wasn't worth going any farther."

 

    When our visitors departed, we settled ourselves again, talked, meditated and took in the stunning view.

 

View from our Perch High Above Shi Shi Beach

 

    The backpackers I mentioned came by and stopped to talk with us and borrow our view for some photo ops. Sheila chatted with the them for a while. They were planning to camp on Shi Shi Beach. I let her do the socializing while I nursed my backpacker envy and looked down on the distant shoreline, the incoming waves and the vastness that stretched to a distant and strange continent.

    Next it was off to Calvin's Crab House. We had been looking forward to this all day. We arrived to the news, delivered by the owner, that there were no crabs today. What we did have was a fabulous halibut fish and chips, which we ate at a picnic table on the shore of the Strait of Juan de Fuca.

 

 

"No crabs today."

 

 

The dining room at Calvin's Crab House

 

 

    Calvin's is a family operation, named after the owners' young son, who was a fearless and capable crab fisherman at age four. The mother took our order. Her husband did the cooking just a few feet away. The older of their ten children bring in the catch. The youngest, about four years old, sipped on a smoothie in the tiny place while I talked with her mom. The two oldest daughters have graduated from college and are both teachers now on the Makah reservation. I think the young smoothie sipper is going to have not one, but two sisters as her teachers some day.

Day Five

Movin' On Down the Road

 

    On Sunday, we packed up and said good-bye to the western edge of Olympic National Park. We were on our way to Port Angeles, nestled between the Strait of Juan de Fuca and the northern edge of the park. First, however, we took a morning hike on Rialto Beach, which pretty much everyone said is a must see destination. It was indeed pretty cool.

 

Morning on Rialto Beach

 

 

Sea Stacks, Rialto Beach

 

 

Washed Ashore by Powerful Surf (the trees, not Sheila)

 

 

    Rialto Beach is littered with countless round, flat stones of every size ranging from less than a dime up to the size of a generous pancake. Excellent skipping stones, but what I saw was perfect raw materials for Christmas gifts for my grandkids - mini-cairns. I couldn't help myself. I began gathering stones until I had enough stones for my art project. While gathering my stones, I encountered a friendly woman doing the same thing.  She introduced herself as Daisy and told me Rialto Beach is one of her favorite spots to gather objects for her art projects. She told me not to miss hiking at Dungeness Spit when we drove from Port Angeles to Port Townsend a few days hence. At Dungeness Spit, she said, there are stones molded by the sea into perfectly round balls. It sounded a bit magical, but she piqued my curiosity. 

 

    Another woman ambled over, and Daisy introduced me to Deb. The two have been friends for a year; they met at the wedding of their children and became mothers-in-law together.

Daisy & Deb

 

    We began our meander to Port Angeles after a detour into town to get coffee and to score our last gooey pastry for the drive. Strawberry today! We stopped along the way for short hikes to some lovely waterfalls and arrived at our next B&B, Rick's Place, on a hill in Port Angeles with a view of the Strait of Juan de Fuca.

Sol Duc Falls

Days Six and Seven

More Hikes, A Wine Tasting and... a Butler

    Rick, the owner of our B&B in Port Angeles, is a well-traveled, well-spoken, friendly man and a gracious host. When we booked a reservation several weeks before the trip, he responded within a few hours with several helpful travel tips - detailed directions of the two routes to his place from the airport, Rick's must-see attractions in Olympic National Park and a few other helpful tidbits. And the clincher - butler service! Our spacious accommodations on the lower level of Rick's home included a kitchen with a well-stocked refrigerator... and no sink! Rick got around this glitch by leaving a tray for guests to place used dishes. Each day when we returned from our adventures, the dishes were clean and put away. Nice touch! Sheila returned his hospitality with advice for caring for his garden, one of Sheila's superpowers.

    The hustle and bustle of Port Angeles, with a population of just under 20,000, was a bit of a shock to our systems after four days surrounded by wilderness. Still, it was the perfect base camp for our exploration of the northern edge of Olympic National Park. 

    The bad news for us was that Hurricane Ridge, the key attraction, with stunning views of the park, glaciers and Mount Olympus, was closed for road work. It was not, however, difficult to find plenty of alternatives to fill our days. Plenty of rain forest trails to explore (all we really needed) and the unexpected gem of Lake Crescent, where we hiked along its northern shore on a paved bike trail and sipped Washington State wine in Adirondack chairs at the Lake Crescent Lodge, built in 1915 on the southern shore. On the hike, we found a short trail off the pavement that led to a quiet shoreline spot where we ate our lunch at the water's edge and then I took a brief dip in the chilly water.

 

Serious Deadfall Blocking the Way

 

Rain Forest Splendor

 

A magical feeling pervades the rain forest.

 

Emerging from my Middle Earth Adventure

 

Lake Crescent

 

Lake Crescent, as seen from my swimmin' hole

    On our first day's drive from the airport to Forks, we noted several signs for local wineries in the vicinity of Port Angeles and decided we needed to check out at least one of them. On our last day, we chose Camaradie Winery as the lucky winner. Sheila scheduled a private tasting (closed on weekdays) with Vicki, one of the owners. There are no vineyards on the Olympic Peninsula. The grapes are brought in from the vineyards of central Washington and the wine made locally. We sampled several and bought a few that pleased us. As we chatted on the patio with Vicki, she told us that her husband was driving the latest shipment of grapes from central Washington. 

Camaraderie Winery (Some pretty good wines!)

Day Eight - Lavender, A Last Hike, A Kwazy Question, Friends 

 

    We were to spend our last night in Port Townsend at the home of Sheila's friends, Kurt and Sheila. On the road, near the town of Sequim, is a patch of country sheltered by the Olympic Range that has perfect climate for growing lavender. The growing season was long past, so most farms were closed, no long rows of purple shrubs shining in the sun. We stopped at a small farm to look around. Workers were winterizing, and one took a break to chat with Sheila and sell her a couple sprigs of lavender, bringing smiles of contentment from her.

    But it got even better. A short way down the road, we came to the B&B Family Farm, one of the largest lavender farms in the area, with a gift shop that was still open. The young woman in the gift shop asked if we'd like a tour. For the next twenty minutes we were entertained and informed by Austin, an enthusiastic young man. Austin told us more about lavender and the process of harvesting it and preparing it for sale than my brain could hold.

Sheila and our enthusiastic tour guide, Austin

    Then, it was off to Dungeness Spit, our last hike on the Olympic Peninsula. It was a five-mile one-way hike to the lighthouse, more than we cared to attempt. Besides, we could see it from where we were. We walked until we got tired. We never found any magic stone balls.

Dungeness Spit

    As we neared the end of our hike, we met a couple from Boston who had just arrived at the beach. The woman excitedly asked, "Is this the Pacific Ocean?" Her question took me aback. I stifled a laugh, smiled broadly and assured her that it truly was the Pacific Ocean.

    In Port Townsend, we walked the streets of the Victorian city by the sea and headed for Kurt and Sheila's, where we had a short evening of food, wine and good conversation before heading for an early bedtime.

Our Last Day - Car, Boat, Plane, Home!

    We left in the dark to catch the six a.m. ferry to Seattle. Traveling most of the way through wild country, I was alert for any elk or a random Sasquatch that might be wandering about and crossing the road in the predawn darkness to get to the other side. We arrived in good time and took our place in line. Sheila hopped out of the car and went in search of coffee. She returned as cars were firing up their engines for boarding. She had not only coffee but breakfast sandwiches!   

Dawn comes to Seattle (seen from the Bainbridge Ferry)

Seattle wakes up.

    As we neared the ferry dock, I noticed an extra right lane about a mile from the dock labeled Ferry Traffic Only! I tried to imagine traffic in the height of tourist season, and it gave me a shiver.

 

 Before I wrap this up, a few more photos for you...

 

    That's it for this trip. I wish you all good health, good times, much love and happy travels of your own. I'll conclude with the wisdom of Chief Seattle.

Words of Wisdom