Technically, this day isn't part of the trip, but, hey, it got to be a lot better than that trip home. I slept for about 12 hours the night before and was feeling a LOT better. Not perfect, but way better.
Late morning, BK brought Callisto home and by mid-afternoon I was feeling well enough for a very slow walk to Walgreens to drop off my vacation film to be developed. It turns out they were having a special and I could get One-Hour developing for the price of regular so I did and had my pictures back later that day.
It was great to relive all the wonderful moments...sunsets and orcas, beaches and kites and wildlife and friends and family... right then. That food poisoning stuff was fast becoming a memory surplanted by all the others. It had been a glorious trip!
31 August 1997
30 August 1997
Trip from Hell going home
I woke up and had a leisurely morning to shower and pack and get ready to leave. I wasn't hungry after the huge meal Kim and I had the night before so I decided to delay breakfast. As it was, I think I was on the road headed for the airport by 7:30. That time of day, traffic was light and it didn't take long to get there. I returned the rental car (I drove about 960-some miles since I picked it up...) and went to check my bags.
My plane wasn't scheduled to leave until 5pm but I had planned all along to catch an earlier standby flight so that I wouldn't be arriving in Omaha at midnight with a 2-hour drive ahead of me yet. The check in line was incredible...I've never seen such a long line. I took my place at the end and shuffled along with everyone else. I decided to have a bagel while I was waiting and took one from my stash of food.
When I got closer to the ticket agents, I saw a sign for another line (that had almost no one in it...) that said it was for ticket exchanges and something else. I figured what I really wanted to do was exchange my 5pm ticket for something sooner, so I got in that line. Took all of 5 minutes to get through and my bags checked. There weren't actually any seats I could exchange to but she put me on standby for the 11:15am flight and sent me to gate.
I found my gate, bought a bottle of pop and sat down with my knitting (the doily I'd started on the way out), and a cookie I bought at Pike Place the day before. I all but finished the doily by the time it was time to board.
We took off. I finished the doily and started a pair of socks. Then I started feeling a little funny. I put away my knitting and thought maybe a little nap would help. But then they started serving lunch. The flight attendant put mine down in front of me and it was the most nauseating smell...I opened the foil to find a cheeseburger and I knew it smelled just like a cheeseburger but my stomach was rebelling at even the sight of it. I figured then that I was Not Well.
By the end of the flight I was in the grip of what must have been food poisoning...diarrhia, nausea, intestinal cramps, chills, sweats, shaking...I was not a happy camper. The flight ended and I took the air sick bag from in front of me 'cause I had a feeling I was going to need it. I started shakily down the jetway and thought I needed that bag right then but I was determined not to throw up just yet. I got off the jetway and started looking for a bathroom. I saw a sign that said restrooms and headed for them but could only find the men's.
I looked for a spot out of the way and crouched down, leaning my forehead against my hand on the wall. I was shaking and sweating and just decided to rest there a bit until I decided if I could make it to my next flight. Eventually, I stood up. Slowly and shakily and found a monitor to see what gate I needed to go to. I knew I didn't have much time and since I was flying standby, I had to check in.
Luckily, the gate was nearby, I checked in and sank into a chair until boarding. Boarding started almost immediately but I wasn't going to move until the last minute. An elderly lady with a little lapdog in a crate was beside me and she kept trying to engage me in banter about her dog and flying and where-was-that-wheelchair for her? but I was in too much misery to even respond.
My assigned seat was the first row on an aisle, which I was glad to see. I sat down but then almost immediately got up again to use the restroom. When I came out, I must have looked pretty ragged because the stewardess asked me if I felt ok. I told her I didn't and she asked if there was anything she could get me. I thanked her but told her I didn't know what it would be. She came back a few minutes later to tell me there were 3 open seats together in the back and I could move back there if I wanted so that I could lay down. She's a saint!
I moved to the back and she got me some pillows and a blanket. As soon as we were in the air I laid down and slept until Omaha. By the time we landed, I was feeling somewhat better. The stewardess said my color was better now and I thanked her again for all her help.
I collected my luggage (it made it!!) and looked for the shuttle to take me to my car. When I got to my car, I discovered that one bag didn't get loaded on the shuttle. It must have been left on the sidewalk back in front of the terminal, because I know when I last saw it but in my much-less-than-alert state, I didn't notice that it didn't make it on the shuttle. The shuttle driver radioed to another shuttle to see if it saw the bag on the sidewalk and it didn't.
I paid my way out of the parking lot then drove to the terminal to see if it had been picked up by security or turned in to lost and found or something. After chasing around various leads, I found that it had been turned into the United lost luggage counter and when I got there, sure enough, there it was waiting to be processed. I picked it up and went back to the car and started my final leg towards home and bed.
I finished the Cry of the Kalihari book early on and had nothing but intestinal cramps for company the rest of the way. I got home around 9:00 and just peeled off my clothes and fell into bed...I didn't stop to unload the car or check the mail or anything.
My plane wasn't scheduled to leave until 5pm but I had planned all along to catch an earlier standby flight so that I wouldn't be arriving in Omaha at midnight with a 2-hour drive ahead of me yet. The check in line was incredible...I've never seen such a long line. I took my place at the end and shuffled along with everyone else. I decided to have a bagel while I was waiting and took one from my stash of food.
When I got closer to the ticket agents, I saw a sign for another line (that had almost no one in it...) that said it was for ticket exchanges and something else. I figured what I really wanted to do was exchange my 5pm ticket for something sooner, so I got in that line. Took all of 5 minutes to get through and my bags checked. There weren't actually any seats I could exchange to but she put me on standby for the 11:15am flight and sent me to gate.
I found my gate, bought a bottle of pop and sat down with my knitting (the doily I'd started on the way out), and a cookie I bought at Pike Place the day before. I all but finished the doily by the time it was time to board.
We took off. I finished the doily and started a pair of socks. Then I started feeling a little funny. I put away my knitting and thought maybe a little nap would help. But then they started serving lunch. The flight attendant put mine down in front of me and it was the most nauseating smell...I opened the foil to find a cheeseburger and I knew it smelled just like a cheeseburger but my stomach was rebelling at even the sight of it. I figured then that I was Not Well.
By the end of the flight I was in the grip of what must have been food poisoning...diarrhia, nausea, intestinal cramps, chills, sweats, shaking...I was not a happy camper. The flight ended and I took the air sick bag from in front of me 'cause I had a feeling I was going to need it. I started shakily down the jetway and thought I needed that bag right then but I was determined not to throw up just yet. I got off the jetway and started looking for a bathroom. I saw a sign that said restrooms and headed for them but could only find the men's.
I looked for a spot out of the way and crouched down, leaning my forehead against my hand on the wall. I was shaking and sweating and just decided to rest there a bit until I decided if I could make it to my next flight. Eventually, I stood up. Slowly and shakily and found a monitor to see what gate I needed to go to. I knew I didn't have much time and since I was flying standby, I had to check in.
Luckily, the gate was nearby, I checked in and sank into a chair until boarding. Boarding started almost immediately but I wasn't going to move until the last minute. An elderly lady with a little lapdog in a crate was beside me and she kept trying to engage me in banter about her dog and flying and where-was-that-wheelchair for her? but I was in too much misery to even respond.
My assigned seat was the first row on an aisle, which I was glad to see. I sat down but then almost immediately got up again to use the restroom. When I came out, I must have looked pretty ragged because the stewardess asked me if I felt ok. I told her I didn't and she asked if there was anything she could get me. I thanked her but told her I didn't know what it would be. She came back a few minutes later to tell me there were 3 open seats together in the back and I could move back there if I wanted so that I could lay down. She's a saint!
I moved to the back and she got me some pillows and a blanket. As soon as we were in the air I laid down and slept until Omaha. By the time we landed, I was feeling somewhat better. The stewardess said my color was better now and I thanked her again for all her help.
I collected my luggage (it made it!!) and looked for the shuttle to take me to my car. When I got to my car, I discovered that one bag didn't get loaded on the shuttle. It must have been left on the sidewalk back in front of the terminal, because I know when I last saw it but in my much-less-than-alert state, I didn't notice that it didn't make it on the shuttle. The shuttle driver radioed to another shuttle to see if it saw the bag on the sidewalk and it didn't.
I paid my way out of the parking lot then drove to the terminal to see if it had been picked up by security or turned in to lost and found or something. After chasing around various leads, I found that it had been turned into the United lost luggage counter and when I got there, sure enough, there it was waiting to be processed. I picked it up and went back to the car and started my final leg towards home and bed.
I finished the Cry of the Kalihari book early on and had nothing but intestinal cramps for company the rest of the way. I got home around 9:00 and just peeled off my clothes and fell into bed...I didn't stop to unload the car or check the mail or anything.
29 August 1997
Touring Seattle - Cousin Kim
I slept in until 8:30. ( ! ) I guess I was tired... Then I got up, had some breakfast, took a shower and started my Seattle tourist day.
First stop: The new Seattle REI store. What a place! 3 levels of garage parking under the store, waterfalls and rock gardens landscaping the area, sculptured portals around the elevator doors, and that's just the outside. Inside is all wood floors and timbers. There's a 3-story climbing tower, a "rain room" where you can put on rain gear and try it out, exhaust hoods so you can test different stoves and a little "creek" where you can try the water filters and purifiers.
I mostly wandered around looking at things, although, I did end up with about $50 of "tidbits"... sock liners, glove liners, a cookset, a collapsable 2 qt bottle, ditty bag set, pot lifter, camp soap, etc. I asked the guy in the stove area about the trouble I'd been having with my new stove and he said I could take it upstairs to the repair shop. It sounded like it just needed cleaning.
I shopped around until I was done, paid for my stuff, and took it to the car so I could pick up my stove. I took it back inside and to Leland at the repair desk. He fueled it, and fired it and it worked perfectly. We eventually came to the conclusion that it was a case of old, bad gas.
While we were testing and waiting for it to cool, we chatted about computer stuff. He was wanting to learn computer programming and when he found out I was a computer support person, he started asking me what I did and how I learned it etc. No charge for the stove evaluation or computer advice...
Then I thought I'd check out the view of Seattle from the Space Needle. I kept driving around and finally got there...downtown Seattle streets are rediculously convoluted...but there was some sort of a festival going on around the Needle and there was no parking to be had, plus they wanted big bucks just to set foot on the grounds for the festival when I didn't want to do the festival, I just wanted to go up the Needle. I decided to forego the needle and hit Pike Place instead.
I stopped at a gas station and got gas and directions then headed back into the morass of downtown streets.
I got a spot in a parking garage at $11 for 1-2 hours. It seemed exhorbitant but it was the same at any of the other parking places...they all seemed to be run by the same company...and there were no meters to be had.
The market is a vast, people-packed open-air type market place. There are fresh produce stands and seafood counters, restaurants, flower vendors, trinket/souvenir barkers...just about anything you might want. I wandered around a while, grabbed some lunch, then headed back to Dean's to chill until 5.
Kim arrived and we had a wonderful supper at Cucina Cucina overlooking lake Washington (I think). We had a great time chatting through the meal then went to another lake where she goes jogging. It's a man-made lake with a whole recreational complex built around it...soccer fields, swimming pool, ball courts, etc. The trail around the lake is 2.8 miles long and heavily used by walkers, joggers, bikers, bladers, etc. We walked it all, although we didn't time it to see how long it took. Then we went to her house and chatted some more. I was hoarse by the time she dropped me off back at Dean's.
We had talked about me staying at her place for the night but she had to get up early to go to work the next morning and we decided it would just work out better if I didn't.
Tomorrow, homeward bound.
First stop: The new Seattle REI store. What a place! 3 levels of garage parking under the store, waterfalls and rock gardens landscaping the area, sculptured portals around the elevator doors, and that's just the outside. Inside is all wood floors and timbers. There's a 3-story climbing tower, a "rain room" where you can put on rain gear and try it out, exhaust hoods so you can test different stoves and a little "creek" where you can try the water filters and purifiers.
I mostly wandered around looking at things, although, I did end up with about $50 of "tidbits"... sock liners, glove liners, a cookset, a collapsable 2 qt bottle, ditty bag set, pot lifter, camp soap, etc. I asked the guy in the stove area about the trouble I'd been having with my new stove and he said I could take it upstairs to the repair shop. It sounded like it just needed cleaning.
I shopped around until I was done, paid for my stuff, and took it to the car so I could pick up my stove. I took it back inside and to Leland at the repair desk. He fueled it, and fired it and it worked perfectly. We eventually came to the conclusion that it was a case of old, bad gas.
While we were testing and waiting for it to cool, we chatted about computer stuff. He was wanting to learn computer programming and when he found out I was a computer support person, he started asking me what I did and how I learned it etc. No charge for the stove evaluation or computer advice...
Then I thought I'd check out the view of Seattle from the Space Needle. I kept driving around and finally got there...downtown Seattle streets are rediculously convoluted...but there was some sort of a festival going on around the Needle and there was no parking to be had, plus they wanted big bucks just to set foot on the grounds for the festival when I didn't want to do the festival, I just wanted to go up the Needle. I decided to forego the needle and hit Pike Place instead.
I stopped at a gas station and got gas and directions then headed back into the morass of downtown streets.
I got a spot in a parking garage at $11 for 1-2 hours. It seemed exhorbitant but it was the same at any of the other parking places...they all seemed to be run by the same company...and there were no meters to be had.
The market is a vast, people-packed open-air type market place. There are fresh produce stands and seafood counters, restaurants, flower vendors, trinket/souvenir barkers...just about anything you might want. I wandered around a while, grabbed some lunch, then headed back to Dean's to chill until 5.
Kim arrived and we had a wonderful supper at Cucina Cucina overlooking lake Washington (I think). We had a great time chatting through the meal then went to another lake where she goes jogging. It's a man-made lake with a whole recreational complex built around it...soccer fields, swimming pool, ball courts, etc. The trail around the lake is 2.8 miles long and heavily used by walkers, joggers, bikers, bladers, etc. We walked it all, although we didn't time it to see how long it took. Then we went to her house and chatted some more. I was hoarse by the time she dropped me off back at Dean's.
We had talked about me staying at her place for the night but she had to get up early to go to work the next morning and we decided it would just work out better if I didn't.
Tomorrow, homeward bound.
28 August 1997
Paddle back to Orcas - Ferry - Seattle
We were up just as the sky was starting to be lighter above the horizon. Later, as we hit the water, it was calm and glassy. Best of all... no motorized boats, only the constant tolling of the Danger Shoals warning beacon. Mist and fog shrouded everything giving it a surreal look.
We paddled back to Posey Island and our guides made breakfast. The rest of us wandered around the tiny island's tidal zone looking for critters and treasures at low tide. We found a purple sea star, a common sea star and a sunflower sea star and posed them on rocks for a picture. Then we wandered off to poke in more pools and eat. When we packed up to leave, something had eaten the sunflower star and all that remained was 3 of it's original 18 legs...little sucker feet still waving around, looking for something to grab onto.
We paddled past Spyden Island, at one time purchased to be a "big game" island for hunters. It had been stocked with elk and Japanese barking deer and bighorn sheep, etc. But the animals decimated the forage available and the project was abandoned. There are still animals on the island, though. We saw fallow deer, bighorn sheep and something that looked sort of like a goat.
At one point we saw a whole skad of boats collected out on the water and figured it was whales so we paddled for it. We got caught in seiner, trawler and freighter trafic as well as whale watch and pleasure boats. It got very crowded and noisy for a while. Being a little bitty kayak on the big water with those huge ships made me really nervous. And the big seining boats belched a brown smoggy layer under the fog line. I could have lived without this little chunk of trip.
We pulled out of the fray and took a little break on a small stoney beach. The beach was all smooth stones and pebbles that were black/white like orcas. Some of the group had a stone-skipping contest. Although I never heard who won, for a while it looked like Susan was the one to beat.
From there it was a short 20-minute or so paddle to Smallpox Bay where we started. We loaded up and headed out for the Friday Harbor ferry terminal. We got there about 3 or 3:30 and the next ferry left at 5. Most of the people hit the public showers at Port of Friday Harbor...5 minutes of hot water for 4 quarters. I showered just to keep my hair from looking like it had been mooshed under a cap for 3 days. I didn't have any soap but it felt good just to wash the salt off. I wandered the shops and grabbed some supper at a seafood place by the terminal to kill the remaining hour or so before the ferry.
The ferry ride was uneventful. Being the last ferry of the day, it was pretty well packed. There were more people on this trip than any other I'd been on.
When I got to the lot where I left my car, there was a ticket on it saying I owed money. I knew I didn't but couldn't see that I could do anything but pay it. The ticket-writer happened to be nearby and evidently saw my reaction. He came up ad asked me about it. I explained and he wrote "Void" on the ticket with a comment about some worker who was lazy. Other people were wandering over with their tickets too, so evidently it affected a number of people, not just me.
I got back to Dean's a little after 8 and called Kim. We set up a supper date for the following evening at 5. I took another shower, this time with soap...lots of it... and did a load of laundry then went to bed.
We paddled back to Posey Island and our guides made breakfast. The rest of us wandered around the tiny island's tidal zone looking for critters and treasures at low tide. We found a purple sea star, a common sea star and a sunflower sea star and posed them on rocks for a picture. Then we wandered off to poke in more pools and eat. When we packed up to leave, something had eaten the sunflower star and all that remained was 3 of it's original 18 legs...little sucker feet still waving around, looking for something to grab onto.
We paddled past Spyden Island, at one time purchased to be a "big game" island for hunters. It had been stocked with elk and Japanese barking deer and bighorn sheep, etc. But the animals decimated the forage available and the project was abandoned. There are still animals on the island, though. We saw fallow deer, bighorn sheep and something that looked sort of like a goat.
At one point we saw a whole skad of boats collected out on the water and figured it was whales so we paddled for it. We got caught in seiner, trawler and freighter trafic as well as whale watch and pleasure boats. It got very crowded and noisy for a while. Being a little bitty kayak on the big water with those huge ships made me really nervous. And the big seining boats belched a brown smoggy layer under the fog line. I could have lived without this little chunk of trip.
We pulled out of the fray and took a little break on a small stoney beach. The beach was all smooth stones and pebbles that were black/white like orcas. Some of the group had a stone-skipping contest. Although I never heard who won, for a while it looked like Susan was the one to beat.
From there it was a short 20-minute or so paddle to Smallpox Bay where we started. We loaded up and headed out for the Friday Harbor ferry terminal. We got there about 3 or 3:30 and the next ferry left at 5. Most of the people hit the public showers at Port of Friday Harbor...5 minutes of hot water for 4 quarters. I showered just to keep my hair from looking like it had been mooshed under a cap for 3 days. I didn't have any soap but it felt good just to wash the salt off. I wandered the shops and grabbed some supper at a seafood place by the terminal to kill the remaining hour or so before the ferry.
The ferry ride was uneventful. Being the last ferry of the day, it was pretty well packed. There were more people on this trip than any other I'd been on.
When I got to the lot where I left my car, there was a ticket on it saying I owed money. I knew I didn't but couldn't see that I could do anything but pay it. The ticket-writer happened to be nearby and evidently saw my reaction. He came up ad asked me about it. I explained and he wrote "Void" on the ticket with a comment about some worker who was lazy. Other people were wandering over with their tickets too, so evidently it affected a number of people, not just me.
I got back to Dean's a little after 8 and called Kim. We set up a supper date for the following evening at 5. I took another shower, this time with soap...lots of it... and did a load of laundry then went to bed.
27 August 1997
Paddling on Puget Sound
I woke with the light but since it was raining, I didn't see any point in getting up. When pots and pans started clattering in the kitchen, I got up. We had a fantastic breakfast of multi-grain pancakes with walnuts and bananas mixed in. Looks like my plan to pack light lunches was right on the mark. I figured they'd feed us hefty breakfasts and suppers and I wouldn't need much for lunch.
By the time we hit the water, the rain had stopped and there was clear sky out there, though there was still fog higher up the island slopes, creeping through the trees.
We paddled out of the harbor past a sunken ship with a seal and her pup resting on it. Once we got out of the harbor and approached the channel, we were paddling into fog. We kept close to shore so as not to get lost in the fog or run over by boats. When we'd been paddling a while, I heard Susan say, "Hear that?" to Kerrie. Kerrie responded, "It's them." and they started paddling with energy through the fog. We paddled to keep up with them and are wondering why the sudden effort, where we're going and what they're talking about.
Pretty soon, we figure it out... The noise that Susan heard became obvious to us too as Kerrie said, "It's whales!" Orca whales. We could hear them breathing with that explosive exhalation. Never more than a second or two went by without hearing another one. Twice, I saw a dorsal fin dimly through the fog but for the most it sounded they were everywhere around us even though we couldn't see them. It was kind of eerie but mostly way cool.
We saw more seals, some with pups. In one place, there were 3 seals on shore sunning and a small pup (they're usually born in July) hauled itself out of the water toward them. when it got clear of the water, it tried to turn around and the shore was so steep that it just rolled hot-dog fashion down the slope and splashed into the water.
Around mid-morning the fog lifted and it was mostly sunny the rest of the day. We pulled into a little bay near Turn Point (at the tip of the island) for a break. It was a nice quiet bay and as we were pulling in, a doe crossed the beach and bounded up and away. We beached the boats and people began peeling out of their damp clothes and spray skirts and spreading them over rocks and driftwood to dry in the sun. It was the first real sun we'd seen. There was soon steam rising from our drying clothing and some of the driftwood and rocks on the beach. One guy (Vince, from Michigan) even went so far as to go swimming in the bay...where the water is 50 degrees, year round...but only for a minute.
We'd only been there a few minutes when suddenly everyone was jumping up and scrambling over rocks toward the channel. I looked up from my lunch and saw a pod of orcas swim by the mouth of the bay. I stood up, mouth agape with a camera around my neck and never even thought to use it. We all watched them (5 or 6, near as I could tell) slicing through the water with graceful arches to the surface. Glorious!
We settled down to eating again and a few minutes later, another pod swam by. This time, I got a picture...though I have a feeling, not a very good one.
The rest of the lunch break was mostly uneventful. We ate, basked in the sun and watched the big ships cruising the channel outside our bay. Several minutes after one huge freighter went by, the waves reached our beach and started sloshing some of our kayaks out to sea and filling any boats that didn't have the hatches closed. The people closest to the boats scrambled over rocks and driftwood to grab the ones being washed away (at the far end, of course...) and most everyone else hauled the rest of them further onto shore in case another freighter went by.
Wildlife tally for the day: jellyfish, a huge purple sea star, anemones, an osprey, an immature bald eagle, lots of seals, the 2 pods of orcas, male sea lions displaying for territory, an oyster catcher (funny looking black bird with a bright orange, pointy beak), a nesting cormorant, the deer on the beach and the same mink (probably) we'd seen the day before.
After supper we hiked about 2 1/2 miles to Turn Point to see an incredible sunset. Along the way we passed the one-room schoolhouse used by the island children. In front of the school was a line strung between 2 trees with T-shirts pinned to it. They were samples of the Stuart Island souvenir shirts that the school uses as a money raiser. Beside one of the trees was a big chest with all the different shirts in different colors and sizes all neatly packaged in plastic bags with a slip of paper saying to not leave cash, please send this amount to this address. According to Susan, in the time they've been marketing their shirts and notecards this way, there have only been a couple that weren't paid for.
Back at camp we broke down and packed up the kitchen. We're supposed to be on the water by 5:00 or 5:30am tomorrow so we can catch favorable tide currents for our trip back to San Juan Island.
Homestretch...
By the time we hit the water, the rain had stopped and there was clear sky out there, though there was still fog higher up the island slopes, creeping through the trees.
We paddled out of the harbor past a sunken ship with a seal and her pup resting on it. Once we got out of the harbor and approached the channel, we were paddling into fog. We kept close to shore so as not to get lost in the fog or run over by boats. When we'd been paddling a while, I heard Susan say, "Hear that?" to Kerrie. Kerrie responded, "It's them." and they started paddling with energy through the fog. We paddled to keep up with them and are wondering why the sudden effort, where we're going and what they're talking about.
Pretty soon, we figure it out... The noise that Susan heard became obvious to us too as Kerrie said, "It's whales!" Orca whales. We could hear them breathing with that explosive exhalation. Never more than a second or two went by without hearing another one. Twice, I saw a dorsal fin dimly through the fog but for the most it sounded they were everywhere around us even though we couldn't see them. It was kind of eerie but mostly way cool.
We saw more seals, some with pups. In one place, there were 3 seals on shore sunning and a small pup (they're usually born in July) hauled itself out of the water toward them. when it got clear of the water, it tried to turn around and the shore was so steep that it just rolled hot-dog fashion down the slope and splashed into the water.
Around mid-morning the fog lifted and it was mostly sunny the rest of the day. We pulled into a little bay near Turn Point (at the tip of the island) for a break. It was a nice quiet bay and as we were pulling in, a doe crossed the beach and bounded up and away. We beached the boats and people began peeling out of their damp clothes and spray skirts and spreading them over rocks and driftwood to dry in the sun. It was the first real sun we'd seen. There was soon steam rising from our drying clothing and some of the driftwood and rocks on the beach. One guy (Vince, from Michigan) even went so far as to go swimming in the bay...where the water is 50 degrees, year round...but only for a minute.
We'd only been there a few minutes when suddenly everyone was jumping up and scrambling over rocks toward the channel. I looked up from my lunch and saw a pod of orcas swim by the mouth of the bay. I stood up, mouth agape with a camera around my neck and never even thought to use it. We all watched them (5 or 6, near as I could tell) slicing through the water with graceful arches to the surface. Glorious!
We settled down to eating again and a few minutes later, another pod swam by. This time, I got a picture...though I have a feeling, not a very good one.
The rest of the lunch break was mostly uneventful. We ate, basked in the sun and watched the big ships cruising the channel outside our bay. Several minutes after one huge freighter went by, the waves reached our beach and started sloshing some of our kayaks out to sea and filling any boats that didn't have the hatches closed. The people closest to the boats scrambled over rocks and driftwood to grab the ones being washed away (at the far end, of course...) and most everyone else hauled the rest of them further onto shore in case another freighter went by.
Wildlife tally for the day: jellyfish, a huge purple sea star, anemones, an osprey, an immature bald eagle, lots of seals, the 2 pods of orcas, male sea lions displaying for territory, an oyster catcher (funny looking black bird with a bright orange, pointy beak), a nesting cormorant, the deer on the beach and the same mink (probably) we'd seen the day before.
After supper we hiked about 2 1/2 miles to Turn Point to see an incredible sunset. Along the way we passed the one-room schoolhouse used by the island children. In front of the school was a line strung between 2 trees with T-shirts pinned to it. They were samples of the Stuart Island souvenir shirts that the school uses as a money raiser. Beside one of the trees was a big chest with all the different shirts in different colors and sizes all neatly packaged in plastic bags with a slip of paper saying to not leave cash, please send this amount to this address. According to Susan, in the time they've been marketing their shirts and notecards this way, there have only been a couple that weren't paid for.
Back at camp we broke down and packed up the kitchen. We're supposed to be on the water by 5:00 or 5:30am tomorrow so we can catch favorable tide currents for our trip back to San Juan Island.
Homestretch...
26 August 1997
Ferry to Orcas Island - Meeting paddle group
Today started at 4:20am. The time I had to get up in order to get packed and to the Anacordes ferry terminal and thense to Friday Harbor to make my sea kayaking group. This was the only day where I HAD to get up and get somewhere on time. I had about 3 heart attacks before I got it done, too.
The first heart attack came when I tried to leave the campground. Having never tried to enter or exit a campground in the dark, it never occurred to me that they close the gates and no one gets in or out between 10:30pm and 6:30am. I got to the entrance and saw the closed gate and the sign saying it wouldn't open until 6:30 and nearly panicked. 6:30 wasn't going to be anywhere near soon enough when I still had to drive 30-45 minutes to catch a 6:15 ferry. And if I didn't get on that ferry, there was no way I could meet my kayak group at 9:00.
I was seriously considering whether I wanted to ram through it with my rental car when I thought to check and see if the gate were locked or merely closed. It turns out there was a padlock on the gate but it wasn't doing anything. I slipped the bolt back, opened the gate, drove through, then closed it behind me. I saw there was a senser on the ground under the gate and thought that if it triggered a chime or something somewhere, someone may make sure to actually lock the gate in the future but for the time being, I was off the hook.
I made it to Anacordes and found a parking place for my car, left the money in the little slot and made the ferry with some time to spare. I got on the ferry, propped my drybags under my feet and pulled out a book for the hour+ trip. About 20 minutes into the trip, I put down my book for a moment to check out the scenery and for some reason it occurred to me that the confirmation I got from the outfitter said, in big bold letters, "YOU MUST BRING THIS INVOICE WITH YOU..." and I'd left it in the car. Heart attack number 2... But a fairly brief one as I decided that they would have to have my name on a list somewhere and, if it came to it, I had ID to prove that's who I was. In any case, there was absolutely nothing I could do about it so there was no point in worrying it.
I got to Friday Harbor around 8 and the van was supposed to pick us up around 9. I found a spot where I could watch the whole area in front of the terminal and continued to read my book. Although I did think it a little odd that no other drybag-toting people got off the ferry when I did. If this were the only ferry that would arrive in time, you'd think there would have to be at least a few other kayakers on it...
Around 8:45 a woman walked by, saw my dry bags and asked me if I were going kayaking. Halleluia! I said, "Yes" and she said she was looking for the "prominent blue van" and I said I hadn't seen it yet but it wasn't quite 9:00 yet either. Then I asked if she was with Outland Adventures. She said, "No, Zoetic." Bummer... must be a bunch of outfitters meeting at the terminal.
Finally, apparent kayakers start congregating around the terminal area (all looking for SeaQuest or Zoetic) and right before 9, a blue van pulling a kayak-loaded trailer pulls up. The sign on the side says "SeaQuest Expeditions - Zoetic" Hmmm...
On an off chance, I ask the guy in the van if he's with Outland Adventures. He gets a blank look on his face and says, "No. SeaQuest." I go back to my bench and wait (with increasing discomfort) for another van.
Then it's after 9:00. A second SeaQuest van has pulled up but still no sign of Outland. I go to the ferry terminal and ask for a phone book. All they have is one for the island and it doesn't list Outland Adventures...but then I didn't expect it to. I know I called either Port Townsend or Port Angeles to make the reservation. I can feel heart attack number 3 brewing...
I hit a couple other stores along the waterfront, looking for someone who has a mainland phone book. No one does so I head back toward the terminal trying to decide what to do. I'm thinking I've been scammed, the outfitter's not going to show, I'm out $300... Do I just get on the ferry and go back to Anacordes? Do I try to wheedle my way onto the SeaQuest trip? Do I fall apart right there in the middle of the street and just cry?
As I'm standing indecisively there, a woman with a clipboard from the second van walks up to me and says, "Are you Sue?" I want to kiss her feet...but I'm speechless with tension and relief. "Sue Ho.., Sue Hot..." and points to my name on her clipboard. "Yes!"
It turns out that Outland Adventures is a booking agent and booked the trip for me with SeaQuest. The people in the vans were the guides and didn't know anything about the booking agents, all they know is they have a list of names to pick up. And if the info I got back from OA said anything about SeaQuest, I missed it. Probably if I'd had my invoice with me...
In any case, I load my gear and get into the van with the people I'll be spending the next 3 days with. 13 adventurers (including me) and 2 guides, Kerrie and Susan. Of the adventurers, there are 3 of us "singles". Since we're paddling double kayaks, 2 of the singles need to pair up and one will paddle with Kerrie. I end up with Kerrie and it works out great. She a marine and fisheries biologist and wealth of information about all things aquatic. Susan is an environmental educator so she's no slouch either. Between the two of them, we had an almost constant stream of fascinating information.
We had a little kayak, safety and paddling instruction on shore, packed the kayaks (no small feat as some people apparently completely disregarded the equipment and packing lists...) then headed out. It had started raining, not heavily, just enough let you know it was raining so we were all in rain gear. I felt damp and chilly as I waited a little too long to get waterproofed.
Before we'd even gotten out of the bay, we saw Dall's Porpoises playing out on the water. It was an auspicious start.
Eventually, the rain let up although the day stayed cloudy and gray. Throughout the rest of our paddle, we saw a bald eagle, a lot of salmon jumping, several kinds of ducks and water birds, lots of seagulls, a mink (on shore as we paddled by), some harbor seals (including one that came up close enough to my kayak that I could have reached out with my paddle and bopped it on the nose if I'd wanted to...) and some sea stars on the bottom as we paddled over shallows.
We paddled into Reid Harbor on Stuart Island in the afternoon and set up camp. Kerrie and Susan made supper (refusing almost all offers of help) and we feasted. Shortly after supper, it started raining again, so everybody pretty much retired to tents.
Our first day of paddling we covered about 9 miles. Stuart Island is a largish island with a permanent population. The island has no electricity except for what people make for themselves with generators, solar panels, or windmills. They have no ferry or bridge access and there's one, narrow, seldom-used-by-vehicles road that runs down the island. They have a one-room school for the gradeschool aged children that live there...currently there are 7 students. When the students get to be high school aged, they go to the school in Friday Harbor. Kerrie and Susan didn't know if they commuted by boat every day or if there was some sort of dorm setup in Friday Harbor and they came home on weekends.
The camp we're using is part of a state park established on the island. Reid Harbor is about a mile long and the park is all the way at the innermost end of the harbor.
Tomorrow, because of the weather, we'll circle the island and return here to camp again. Already my shoulders are sore and I take some aspirin before going to bed.
The first heart attack came when I tried to leave the campground. Having never tried to enter or exit a campground in the dark, it never occurred to me that they close the gates and no one gets in or out between 10:30pm and 6:30am. I got to the entrance and saw the closed gate and the sign saying it wouldn't open until 6:30 and nearly panicked. 6:30 wasn't going to be anywhere near soon enough when I still had to drive 30-45 minutes to catch a 6:15 ferry. And if I didn't get on that ferry, there was no way I could meet my kayak group at 9:00.
I was seriously considering whether I wanted to ram through it with my rental car when I thought to check and see if the gate were locked or merely closed. It turns out there was a padlock on the gate but it wasn't doing anything. I slipped the bolt back, opened the gate, drove through, then closed it behind me. I saw there was a senser on the ground under the gate and thought that if it triggered a chime or something somewhere, someone may make sure to actually lock the gate in the future but for the time being, I was off the hook.
I made it to Anacordes and found a parking place for my car, left the money in the little slot and made the ferry with some time to spare. I got on the ferry, propped my drybags under my feet and pulled out a book for the hour+ trip. About 20 minutes into the trip, I put down my book for a moment to check out the scenery and for some reason it occurred to me that the confirmation I got from the outfitter said, in big bold letters, "YOU MUST BRING THIS INVOICE WITH YOU..." and I'd left it in the car. Heart attack number 2... But a fairly brief one as I decided that they would have to have my name on a list somewhere and, if it came to it, I had ID to prove that's who I was. In any case, there was absolutely nothing I could do about it so there was no point in worrying it.
I got to Friday Harbor around 8 and the van was supposed to pick us up around 9. I found a spot where I could watch the whole area in front of the terminal and continued to read my book. Although I did think it a little odd that no other drybag-toting people got off the ferry when I did. If this were the only ferry that would arrive in time, you'd think there would have to be at least a few other kayakers on it...
Around 8:45 a woman walked by, saw my dry bags and asked me if I were going kayaking. Halleluia! I said, "Yes" and she said she was looking for the "prominent blue van" and I said I hadn't seen it yet but it wasn't quite 9:00 yet either. Then I asked if she was with Outland Adventures. She said, "No, Zoetic." Bummer... must be a bunch of outfitters meeting at the terminal.
Finally, apparent kayakers start congregating around the terminal area (all looking for SeaQuest or Zoetic) and right before 9, a blue van pulling a kayak-loaded trailer pulls up. The sign on the side says "SeaQuest Expeditions - Zoetic" Hmmm...
On an off chance, I ask the guy in the van if he's with Outland Adventures. He gets a blank look on his face and says, "No. SeaQuest." I go back to my bench and wait (with increasing discomfort) for another van.
Then it's after 9:00. A second SeaQuest van has pulled up but still no sign of Outland. I go to the ferry terminal and ask for a phone book. All they have is one for the island and it doesn't list Outland Adventures...but then I didn't expect it to. I know I called either Port Townsend or Port Angeles to make the reservation. I can feel heart attack number 3 brewing...
I hit a couple other stores along the waterfront, looking for someone who has a mainland phone book. No one does so I head back toward the terminal trying to decide what to do. I'm thinking I've been scammed, the outfitter's not going to show, I'm out $300... Do I just get on the ferry and go back to Anacordes? Do I try to wheedle my way onto the SeaQuest trip? Do I fall apart right there in the middle of the street and just cry?
As I'm standing indecisively there, a woman with a clipboard from the second van walks up to me and says, "Are you Sue?" I want to kiss her feet...but I'm speechless with tension and relief. "Sue Ho.., Sue Hot..." and points to my name on her clipboard. "Yes!"
It turns out that Outland Adventures is a booking agent and booked the trip for me with SeaQuest. The people in the vans were the guides and didn't know anything about the booking agents, all they know is they have a list of names to pick up. And if the info I got back from OA said anything about SeaQuest, I missed it. Probably if I'd had my invoice with me...
In any case, I load my gear and get into the van with the people I'll be spending the next 3 days with. 13 adventurers (including me) and 2 guides, Kerrie and Susan. Of the adventurers, there are 3 of us "singles". Since we're paddling double kayaks, 2 of the singles need to pair up and one will paddle with Kerrie. I end up with Kerrie and it works out great. She a marine and fisheries biologist and wealth of information about all things aquatic. Susan is an environmental educator so she's no slouch either. Between the two of them, we had an almost constant stream of fascinating information.
We had a little kayak, safety and paddling instruction on shore, packed the kayaks (no small feat as some people apparently completely disregarded the equipment and packing lists...) then headed out. It had started raining, not heavily, just enough let you know it was raining so we were all in rain gear. I felt damp and chilly as I waited a little too long to get waterproofed.
Before we'd even gotten out of the bay, we saw Dall's Porpoises playing out on the water. It was an auspicious start.
Eventually, the rain let up although the day stayed cloudy and gray. Throughout the rest of our paddle, we saw a bald eagle, a lot of salmon jumping, several kinds of ducks and water birds, lots of seagulls, a mink (on shore as we paddled by), some harbor seals (including one that came up close enough to my kayak that I could have reached out with my paddle and bopped it on the nose if I'd wanted to...) and some sea stars on the bottom as we paddled over shallows.
We paddled into Reid Harbor on Stuart Island in the afternoon and set up camp. Kerrie and Susan made supper (refusing almost all offers of help) and we feasted. Shortly after supper, it started raining again, so everybody pretty much retired to tents.
Our first day of paddling we covered about 9 miles. Stuart Island is a largish island with a permanent population. The island has no electricity except for what people make for themselves with generators, solar panels, or windmills. They have no ferry or bridge access and there's one, narrow, seldom-used-by-vehicles road that runs down the island. They have a one-room school for the gradeschool aged children that live there...currently there are 7 students. When the students get to be high school aged, they go to the school in Friday Harbor. Kerrie and Susan didn't know if they commuted by boat every day or if there was some sort of dorm setup in Friday Harbor and they came home on weekends.
The camp we're using is part of a state park established on the island. Reid Harbor is about a mile long and the park is all the way at the innermost end of the harbor.
Tomorrow, because of the weather, we'll circle the island and return here to camp again. Already my shoulders are sore and I take some aspirin before going to bed.
25 August 1997
Whidby Island
I woke to an overcast morning but it was supposed to clear. I said goodbye to Dean and Linda as they left for work since I wouldn't be seeing them again before I left. After they left, I showered and breakfasted, packed up and left myself. I drove in rain to Mukilteo and caught the ferry to Whidby Island. I drove up the island to Keystone and caught the ferry to Port Townsend in a renewed attempt to get to Pygmy Boats. I found them and test drove a Goldeneye.
It was certainly an "adverse conditions" test. There was a lot of wind but at least it wasn't raining. I paddled it around the marina area and didn't get out into open water. It's a nice boat but seemed a little...flimsy. I'm sure the Osprey would be much sturdier feeling since the deck spanning pieces are narrower. They're nice boats but I think they're not for me and Iowa rivers. While they aren't overly fragile, I'd have to be much more careful than I'm used to with aluminum canoes. I'm sure they'd be fine if I stuck to lakes, though.
On the way back to the ferry, I grabbed an oyster burger at a seafood cafe on the waterfront. Interesting...
From Keystone I continued up Whidby Island to Deception Pass State Park. Another very nice park in the Washington system. There were lots of spaces available and I found one that suited me nicely. There were hiking trails around and I saw a path that lead to the beach. I intended to go for a hike after supper but by the time I figured out what time I'd have to go to bed to get up and catch the 6:15 ferry to Friday Harbor, I decided to forego the hike.
While I was setting up camp, I hear some low-flying planes and hoped hat they weren't commercial planes landing/taking off that would continue into the wee hours. Turns out there's a naval base or something on the island. They start very low fly-bys about dusk and the planes were never out of earshot for at least 30-45 minutes. The noise was incredible and I could feel the vibrations through the ground, my sleeping pad and bag. Some passes were so loud and rumbling that it felt like the vibrations were going to interfere with my heartbeat. It was most uncomfortable at times. Eventually, either they stopped or I went to sleep anyway...4:30 am was going to come all too soon.
It was certainly an "adverse conditions" test. There was a lot of wind but at least it wasn't raining. I paddled it around the marina area and didn't get out into open water. It's a nice boat but seemed a little...flimsy. I'm sure the Osprey would be much sturdier feeling since the deck spanning pieces are narrower. They're nice boats but I think they're not for me and Iowa rivers. While they aren't overly fragile, I'd have to be much more careful than I'm used to with aluminum canoes. I'm sure they'd be fine if I stuck to lakes, though.
On the way back to the ferry, I grabbed an oyster burger at a seafood cafe on the waterfront. Interesting...
From Keystone I continued up Whidby Island to Deception Pass State Park. Another very nice park in the Washington system. There were lots of spaces available and I found one that suited me nicely. There were hiking trails around and I saw a path that lead to the beach. I intended to go for a hike after supper but by the time I figured out what time I'd have to go to bed to get up and catch the 6:15 ferry to Friday Harbor, I decided to forego the hike.
While I was setting up camp, I hear some low-flying planes and hoped hat they weren't commercial planes landing/taking off that would continue into the wee hours. Turns out there's a naval base or something on the island. They start very low fly-bys about dusk and the planes were never out of earshot for at least 30-45 minutes. The noise was incredible and I could feel the vibrations through the ground, my sleeping pad and bag. Some passes were so loud and rumbling that it felt like the vibrations were going to interfere with my heartbeat. It was most uncomfortable at times. Eventually, either they stopped or I went to sleep anyway...4:30 am was going to come all too soon.
24 August 1997
Olympic Peninsula - Pygmy Boats - to Seattle
I woke around 7:00 and boiled some water for tea. It had gotten chilly in the night. I went for a walk around the campground around dusk and could see my breath puffing whitely into the darkening air. This morning the tea steamed out of the holes in my insulated mug and it felt good to wrap my hands around it.
While striking camp, the guy in the spot across from me was also packing up. He commented that we seemed to be on the same schedule (and about the only people stirring in the campsite) and we started chatting. He's from Alabama and, like me, doing a loop of the Olympic Penninsula also only he's going the other way. He recommended stopping at Dungeness Spit and I recommended Ruby Beach and Lake Quinault. He was also travelling alone and commented that there were a lot of advantages to travelling by yourself. I found my self agreeing...other than that one time waiting for the fireworks, I'd been really enjoying being on my own. We both agreed that there were some disadvantages as well but overall, solo travel was pretty cool. I followed him out of the park and down off the mountain to Hwy 101 where he turned west and I turned east. I'd thought about going on up to Hurricane Ridge since it came highly recommended by a friend who used to live in WA but since the day was starting out foggy and the clouds were clinging to the ground, there didn't seem to be much point.
I stopped at Dungeness Spit. It's a nice wildlife refuge and recreation area. The spit itself is 5 miles long and maybe 50 yards wide for the most part. At the very end is a lighthouse, winking in the fog. I started hiking along the beach but didn't really have any intention of going all 5 miles out. I went maybe halfway. It was a kind of strange experience to see the pounding surf on one side of the spit (the side you hike on) and just over there, the water is placid. There was lots of driftwood and sea birds and way out at sea I saw a freighter.
Port Townsend, home of Pygmy Boats. I drove out to Fort Worden Marine Science Center and then decided at the last minute against going in. While I was driving around, the thought occurred to me that it was Sunday and most likely Pygmy Boats wouldn't be open. I used a pay phone to call and sure enough, the message said they were closed on Sundays. Bummer...
I went on to Bainbridge Island to catch the ferry to Seattle. I stopped at grocery-store-on-steroids to grab some lunch and sudden crush of humanity after the days of quiet solitude in the trees was extremely jarring. Everyone seemed so rushed and rude and loud. I know they weren't but for a few moments I'd wondered if I should have planned my trip with the solitude on the other end...
My first ferry ride went without a hitch and I found Dean's place with very little trouble. We sat around and chatted a while, then he took me on a walking tour of the Fremont neighborhood, an area described by the AAA tourbook as "quirky." I mentioned that to Dean and he said that they have their own motto, something in Latin that means "Free to be odd." They do a good job of it too.
We started our tour with the Statue of Lenin. It's this huge statue done by some famous sculpter (ok, I admit I'm vague on details...I read the signpost but a lot of it hasn't stuck). It's noted for several reasons. One is that its the only known depiction of Lenin where he's not carrying a book or something peaceful and scholarly. He's striding boldly through flames. For another, some guy ran across the statue abandoned somewhere after Lenin fell into disfavor and he "rescued" it. It's moved from place to place in the Fremont area...one place had flooded and the ground washed out from under it, then it lay face down on a flatbed for a year or two until they found a place for it, etc. That's how it ended up where it is. And, hey, how often do you find a monumental statue of Lenin in the USA??
Next stop was The Rocket. It's an honest to goodness 50's NASA rocket that someone mounted to the corner of a building. It has the motto painted on it's side and some non-original additions in neon lights and fin spikes. Dean tells me that for a quarter you can make it shoot smoke out the jets, but I didn't try it.
Then there was the "Waiting for Transit" sculpture at a bus stop near the Fremont bridge. It's a group of people standing there, reading papers or whatever, just waiting for the bus. Dean says that periodically, someone will come along and "dress" them in costumes. When we were there, the woman figure had been draped in bridal veil and gown and there were flowers and such which added to the "wedding" theme. Dean said he'd been by the day before and a wedding party was posing with the decorated sculpture. He also told me about a dog that was part of the sculpture but we couldn't get a good look at it from where we were given the traffic. He said that the artist had given the dog the face of someone he didn't like (another artist) and while the subject complained, the artist denies it but Dean says there's an obvious resemblance
Our last sculptural stop was the Troll Bridge. This was my personal fave. Somebody had taken an enormous amount of cement and sculpted a giant, one-eyed troll under an overpass. One hand clutches an old VW bug (a real one) and the trolls open eye is a VW hubcap. I loved it...
We went back to Dean's place, Linda met us and we headed out again to see the fish ladders and grab some supper. The fish ladders/locks were pretty cool. There were some salmon moving through the ladders but the main migration was at kind of a lull between runs. The park grounds around the locks/ladders was really nice. They told me they have a series of concerts in the park throughout the summer, and we saw the schedule although there was nothing going on when we were there.
The thing that impressed me most about the park were the fuscias! Dean said that all fuscias originated in Washington in or near this park. They had fuscias like I've never seen before. One was a very tree-like plant with a woody stem and branches and enormous blooms of intense color. Incredible! The whole park was like a botanical garden with all the trees and plants labeled. Lovely!
We went to Ray's Cafe for supper and I had my first Pacific seafood...my fourth day here and no seafood before now. I must have been ill in the head... :-)
While striking camp, the guy in the spot across from me was also packing up. He commented that we seemed to be on the same schedule (and about the only people stirring in the campsite) and we started chatting. He's from Alabama and, like me, doing a loop of the Olympic Penninsula also only he's going the other way. He recommended stopping at Dungeness Spit and I recommended Ruby Beach and Lake Quinault. He was also travelling alone and commented that there were a lot of advantages to travelling by yourself. I found my self agreeing...other than that one time waiting for the fireworks, I'd been really enjoying being on my own. We both agreed that there were some disadvantages as well but overall, solo travel was pretty cool. I followed him out of the park and down off the mountain to Hwy 101 where he turned west and I turned east. I'd thought about going on up to Hurricane Ridge since it came highly recommended by a friend who used to live in WA but since the day was starting out foggy and the clouds were clinging to the ground, there didn't seem to be much point.
I stopped at Dungeness Spit. It's a nice wildlife refuge and recreation area. The spit itself is 5 miles long and maybe 50 yards wide for the most part. At the very end is a lighthouse, winking in the fog. I started hiking along the beach but didn't really have any intention of going all 5 miles out. I went maybe halfway. It was a kind of strange experience to see the pounding surf on one side of the spit (the side you hike on) and just over there, the water is placid. There was lots of driftwood and sea birds and way out at sea I saw a freighter.
Port Townsend, home of Pygmy Boats. I drove out to Fort Worden Marine Science Center and then decided at the last minute against going in. While I was driving around, the thought occurred to me that it was Sunday and most likely Pygmy Boats wouldn't be open. I used a pay phone to call and sure enough, the message said they were closed on Sundays. Bummer...
I went on to Bainbridge Island to catch the ferry to Seattle. I stopped at grocery-store-on-steroids to grab some lunch and sudden crush of humanity after the days of quiet solitude in the trees was extremely jarring. Everyone seemed so rushed and rude and loud. I know they weren't but for a few moments I'd wondered if I should have planned my trip with the solitude on the other end...
My first ferry ride went without a hitch and I found Dean's place with very little trouble. We sat around and chatted a while, then he took me on a walking tour of the Fremont neighborhood, an area described by the AAA tourbook as "quirky." I mentioned that to Dean and he said that they have their own motto, something in Latin that means "Free to be odd." They do a good job of it too.
We started our tour with the Statue of Lenin. It's this huge statue done by some famous sculpter (ok, I admit I'm vague on details...I read the signpost but a lot of it hasn't stuck). It's noted for several reasons. One is that its the only known depiction of Lenin where he's not carrying a book or something peaceful and scholarly. He's striding boldly through flames. For another, some guy ran across the statue abandoned somewhere after Lenin fell into disfavor and he "rescued" it. It's moved from place to place in the Fremont area...one place had flooded and the ground washed out from under it, then it lay face down on a flatbed for a year or two until they found a place for it, etc. That's how it ended up where it is. And, hey, how often do you find a monumental statue of Lenin in the USA??
Next stop was The Rocket. It's an honest to goodness 50's NASA rocket that someone mounted to the corner of a building. It has the motto painted on it's side and some non-original additions in neon lights and fin spikes. Dean tells me that for a quarter you can make it shoot smoke out the jets, but I didn't try it.
Then there was the "Waiting for Transit" sculpture at a bus stop near the Fremont bridge. It's a group of people standing there, reading papers or whatever, just waiting for the bus. Dean says that periodically, someone will come along and "dress" them in costumes. When we were there, the woman figure had been draped in bridal veil and gown and there were flowers and such which added to the "wedding" theme. Dean said he'd been by the day before and a wedding party was posing with the decorated sculpture. He also told me about a dog that was part of the sculpture but we couldn't get a good look at it from where we were given the traffic. He said that the artist had given the dog the face of someone he didn't like (another artist) and while the subject complained, the artist denies it but Dean says there's an obvious resemblance
Our last sculptural stop was the Troll Bridge. This was my personal fave. Somebody had taken an enormous amount of cement and sculpted a giant, one-eyed troll under an overpass. One hand clutches an old VW bug (a real one) and the trolls open eye is a VW hubcap. I loved it...
We went back to Dean's place, Linda met us and we headed out again to see the fish ladders and grab some supper. The fish ladders/locks were pretty cool. There were some salmon moving through the ladders but the main migration was at kind of a lull between runs. The park grounds around the locks/ladders was really nice. They told me they have a series of concerts in the park throughout the summer, and we saw the schedule although there was nothing going on when we were there.
The thing that impressed me most about the park were the fuscias! Dean said that all fuscias originated in Washington in or near this park. They had fuscias like I've never seen before. One was a very tree-like plant with a woody stem and branches and enormous blooms of intense color. Incredible! The whole park was like a botanical garden with all the trees and plants labeled. Lovely!
We went to Ray's Cafe for supper and I had my first Pacific seafood...my fourth day here and no seafood before now. I must have been ill in the head... :-)
23 August 1997
Quinault Rain Forest - Fish Hatcheries
There was a misty rain falling as I was leaving the hotel. I got gas ($1.45/gal) on the corner then headed across the bridge to Washington. I decided that with the rain and such, there wouldn't be much point to doing any kite stuff so I got on Hwy 101, popped in the next Cry of the Kalihari tape and headed north.
I drove through a lot of forested areas in various stages of cutting. Most places had signs that said what growth forest this was (mostly 2nd and 3rd), when it was cut last, when it was due to be harvested again.
I kept seeing signs about the illegality of using compression brakes inside city limits and I'm not sure what that means. I assume it has something to do with logging trucks.
I also saw a lot of triagular green tubes attached to trees. They look like the bug traps Donna used to set for the USDA only hers were orange.
In Aberdeen, I got stopped for speeding...50 in a 30 zone...yowza, was I ever not paying attention. However, he let me off with just a warning because his radar didn't "get a lock" on me. I thanked him kindly! and asked for directions to the fish hatchery. I then decided not to go there because it was quite a ways off of highway 101.
In Hoquim I saw signs for the "Historic Hoquim Castle - 2 Blk!" and thought it might be worth a stop so I went looking for it. Never found it, though.
In Humptulips (who thinks up these names???) I stopped at a salmon hatchery. There were giant open tanks covered with mesh about the size of chain link. I assume it's there to keep birds from picking off the small fish. There was a sign for visitor parking but no info about the facility. I wandered around a little...saw fry about 4-6 inches long leaping toward the spouts pouring water into their tank then went back to the car and had breakfast (more granola and milk). I had some jerky and pop earlier when I stopped for gas so I didn't really get hungry until now.
At the Quinault Rain Forest I stopped at the National Fish Hatchery. It was no more populated than the last one I stopped at but this one had a nice visitor center with information and displays. The rain has stopped for the time being and it's a little brighter here but it's still overcast, cool and windy.
Lake Quinault Lodge is fantastic! It's design is very similar to the Starved Rock Lodge in Ilinois only with some specifically Northwest touches in the stencilling on the beams...not to mention the mountain-backed view of the lake with mist-shrouded peaks. I had lunch in the restaurant, wandered around the grounds and bought some postcards in the gift shop.
I hiked one of the shorter rain forest trails near the lodge. It was weird and wonderful all at the same time. There were all these huge trees draped with moss and lichen and the undergrowth was all lush ferns and mosses. It made me feel very, very small and very young (embyonic young), by comparison.
All the growth deadened sounds and I found myself wanting to tiptoe. My shoes crunching on the gravel sounded blasphemous in the hush. At one point I stood still and held my breath to listen. I could hear a faint rustle of trees in the wind high above in the canopy, an insect of some sort behind me and to my right, and another insect further away to my left. That was it. None of the cacophany of rustlings, chirpings, and creakings I normally associate with wooded environments.
About halfway through, I started to meet other hikers and, about 2/3 through, the quiet mood was pretty well shattered when I got stuck behind a group with a number of small children in dire need of a nap. I eventually got past them and some peace returned but as I got closer to the trailhead, I kept meeting more and more people.
On the way out, I stopped to see "The Big Cedar"... It's basicaly the stump of what had been an enormous cedar tree. The remaining stump is several stories high and rotted out in the center. It was raining a little when I arrived but inside the stump the rain didn't penetrate. There was almost enough space in there to set up a tent. The unusual thing about the stump was that many other trees and ferns and mosses were growing out of it...using it as a "nursery log" as the sign said.
Shortly after the Quinault rain forest, highway 101 takes a turn and starts hugging the shore. I stopped at Ruby Beach (recommended by the policeman who stopped me for speeding....). It was gray and misty and threatening rain at any second so I grabbed my poncho and headed down to the beach. There was the usual jumble of driftlogs tossed on the shore like careless giant-child being messy with his Tinker-Toys. There were also sea stacks off to the right where columns of stone had been carved by wave and water action. I started to head that way but the tide looked to be coming in and not knowing how fast or high, I thought I might get cut off so I turned back and just looked from where I was.
The whole beach was in contrast to the beach at Leadbetter Point. The surf here pounded the shore with crashing waves and there was very little (if any) sand here. The shore was made up of smoothly rounded rocks that gradually decreased in size as you approached the water. If I looked closely enough at the sand grains, I suspect they'd have been smoothly rounded as well. It was as if the beach was a fractal design where every piece looks just like every other piece if blow up or reduce them up to the comparable size.
After 101 turned back east, landscape began to change. The road became windy and the water along the road calmer with no more pounding waves. At some point it was as if I'd crossed an invisible line and the rain and mist and clouds I'd been moving through all day gave way to clear sky, sunshine and dry pavement.
In Port Angeles, I stopped at a grocery store for bagels and grapes. Then I followed signs to Olympic National Park, Hurricane Ridge and Heart o' the Hills campground.
At the park entrance, I looked at the sign noting the entrance and camping fees then got in line to enter. When I got to the toll booth, I saw the sign that said "Campground Full" and started to explain to the ranger that I only wanted a campsite and just saw the sign so I wanted to pull a U-ey. He told me that there were actually a few sites left and it happened to be a "free access" day so I didn't have to pay the entrance fee either.
Teela Brown strikes again....
I found a nice camp spot, pitched my tent and made some supper. It's a wonderful campground! I could see setting up a base camp here and do day-trip hikes in the park.
I drove through a lot of forested areas in various stages of cutting. Most places had signs that said what growth forest this was (mostly 2nd and 3rd), when it was cut last, when it was due to be harvested again.
I kept seeing signs about the illegality of using compression brakes inside city limits and I'm not sure what that means. I assume it has something to do with logging trucks.
I also saw a lot of triagular green tubes attached to trees. They look like the bug traps Donna used to set for the USDA only hers were orange.
In Aberdeen, I got stopped for speeding...50 in a 30 zone...yowza, was I ever not paying attention. However, he let me off with just a warning because his radar didn't "get a lock" on me. I thanked him kindly! and asked for directions to the fish hatchery. I then decided not to go there because it was quite a ways off of highway 101.
In Hoquim I saw signs for the "Historic Hoquim Castle - 2 Blk!" and thought it might be worth a stop so I went looking for it. Never found it, though.
In Humptulips (who thinks up these names???) I stopped at a salmon hatchery. There were giant open tanks covered with mesh about the size of chain link. I assume it's there to keep birds from picking off the small fish. There was a sign for visitor parking but no info about the facility. I wandered around a little...saw fry about 4-6 inches long leaping toward the spouts pouring water into their tank then went back to the car and had breakfast (more granola and milk). I had some jerky and pop earlier when I stopped for gas so I didn't really get hungry until now.
At the Quinault Rain Forest I stopped at the National Fish Hatchery. It was no more populated than the last one I stopped at but this one had a nice visitor center with information and displays. The rain has stopped for the time being and it's a little brighter here but it's still overcast, cool and windy.
Lake Quinault Lodge is fantastic! It's design is very similar to the Starved Rock Lodge in Ilinois only with some specifically Northwest touches in the stencilling on the beams...not to mention the mountain-backed view of the lake with mist-shrouded peaks. I had lunch in the restaurant, wandered around the grounds and bought some postcards in the gift shop.
I hiked one of the shorter rain forest trails near the lodge. It was weird and wonderful all at the same time. There were all these huge trees draped with moss and lichen and the undergrowth was all lush ferns and mosses. It made me feel very, very small and very young (embyonic young), by comparison.
All the growth deadened sounds and I found myself wanting to tiptoe. My shoes crunching on the gravel sounded blasphemous in the hush. At one point I stood still and held my breath to listen. I could hear a faint rustle of trees in the wind high above in the canopy, an insect of some sort behind me and to my right, and another insect further away to my left. That was it. None of the cacophany of rustlings, chirpings, and creakings I normally associate with wooded environments.
About halfway through, I started to meet other hikers and, about 2/3 through, the quiet mood was pretty well shattered when I got stuck behind a group with a number of small children in dire need of a nap. I eventually got past them and some peace returned but as I got closer to the trailhead, I kept meeting more and more people.
On the way out, I stopped to see "The Big Cedar"... It's basicaly the stump of what had been an enormous cedar tree. The remaining stump is several stories high and rotted out in the center. It was raining a little when I arrived but inside the stump the rain didn't penetrate. There was almost enough space in there to set up a tent. The unusual thing about the stump was that many other trees and ferns and mosses were growing out of it...using it as a "nursery log" as the sign said.
Shortly after the Quinault rain forest, highway 101 takes a turn and starts hugging the shore. I stopped at Ruby Beach (recommended by the policeman who stopped me for speeding....). It was gray and misty and threatening rain at any second so I grabbed my poncho and headed down to the beach. There was the usual jumble of driftlogs tossed on the shore like careless giant-child being messy with his Tinker-Toys. There were also sea stacks off to the right where columns of stone had been carved by wave and water action. I started to head that way but the tide looked to be coming in and not knowing how fast or high, I thought I might get cut off so I turned back and just looked from where I was.
The whole beach was in contrast to the beach at Leadbetter Point. The surf here pounded the shore with crashing waves and there was very little (if any) sand here. The shore was made up of smoothly rounded rocks that gradually decreased in size as you approached the water. If I looked closely enough at the sand grains, I suspect they'd have been smoothly rounded as well. It was as if the beach was a fractal design where every piece looks just like every other piece if blow up or reduce them up to the comparable size.
After 101 turned back east, landscape began to change. The road became windy and the water along the road calmer with no more pounding waves. At some point it was as if I'd crossed an invisible line and the rain and mist and clouds I'd been moving through all day gave way to clear sky, sunshine and dry pavement.
In Port Angeles, I stopped at a grocery store for bagels and grapes. Then I followed signs to Olympic National Park, Hurricane Ridge and Heart o' the Hills campground.
At the park entrance, I looked at the sign noting the entrance and camping fees then got in line to enter. When I got to the toll booth, I saw the sign that said "Campground Full" and started to explain to the ranger that I only wanted a campsite and just saw the sign so I wanted to pull a U-ey. He told me that there were actually a few sites left and it happened to be a "free access" day so I didn't have to pay the entrance fee either.
Teela Brown strikes again....
I found a nice camp spot, pitched my tent and made some supper. It's a wonderful campground! I could see setting up a base camp here and do day-trip hikes in the park.
Quinault Rain Forest - Fish Hatcheries
There was a misty rain falling as I was leaving the hotel. I got gas ($1.45/gal) on the corner then headed across the bridge to Washington. I decided that with the rain and such, there wouldn't be much point to doing any kite stuff so I got on Hwy 101, popped in the next Cry of the Kalihari tape and headed north.
I drove through a lot of forested areas in various stages of cutting. Most places had signs that said what growth forest this was (mostly 2nd and 3rd), when it was cut last, when it was due to be harvested again.
I kept seeing signs about the illegality of using compression brakes inside city limits and I'm not sure what that means. I assume it has something to do with logging trucks.
I also saw a lot of triagular green tubes attached to trees. They look like the bug traps Donna used to set for the USDA only hers were orange.
In Aberdeen, I got stopped for speeding...50 in a 30 zone...yowza, was I ever not paying attention. However, he let me off with just a warning because his radar didn't "get a lock" on me. I thanked him kindly! and asked for directions to the fish hatchery. I then decided not to go there because it was quite a ways off of highway 101.
In Hoquim I saw signs for the "Historic Hoquim Castle - 2 Blk!" and thought it might be worth a stop so I went looking for it. Never found it, though.
In Humptulips (who thinks up these names???) I stopped at a salmon hatchery. There were giant open tanks covered with mesh about the size of chain link. I assume it's there to keep birds from picking off the small fish. There was a sign for visitor parking but no info about the facility. I wandered around a little...saw fry about 4-6 inches long leaping toward the spouts pouring water into their tank then went back to the car and had breakfast (more granola and milk). I had some jerky and pop earlier when I stopped for gas so I didn't really get hungry until now.
At the Quinault Rain Forest I stopped at the National Fish Hatchery. It was no more populated than the last one I stopped at but this one had a nice visitor center with information and displays. The rain has stopped for the time being and it's a little brighter here but it's still overcast, cool and windy.
Lake Quinault Lodge is fantastic! It's design is very similar to the Starved Rock Lodge in Ilinois only with some specifically Northwest touches in the stencilling on the beams...not to mention the mountain-backed view of the lake with mist-shrouded peaks. I had lunch in the restaurant, wandered around the grounds and bought some postcards in the gift shop.
I hiked one of the shorter rain forest trails near the lodge. It was weird and wonderful all at the same time. There were all these huge trees draped with moss and lichen and the undergrowth was all lush ferns and mosses. It made me feel very, very small and very young (embyonic young), by comparison.
All the growth deadened sounds and I found myself wanting to tiptoe. My shoes crunching on the gravel sounded blasphemous in the hush. At one point I stood still and held my breath to listen. I could hear a faint rustle of trees in the wind high above in the canopy, an insect of some sort behind me and to my right, and another insect further away to my left. That was it. None of the cacophany of rustlings, chirpings, and creakings I normally associate with wooded environments.
About halfway through, I started to meet other hikers and, about 2/3 through, the quiet mood was pretty well shattered when I got stuck behind a group with a number of small children in dire need of a nap. I eventually got past them and some peace returned but as I got closer to the trailhead, I kept meeting more and more people.
On the way out, I stopped to see "The Big Cedar"... It's basicaly the stump of what had been an enormous cedar tree. The remaining stump is several stories high and rotted out in the center. It was raining a little when I arrived but inside the stump the rain didn't penetrate. There was almost enough space in there to set up a tent. The unusual thing about the stump was that many other trees and ferns and mosses were growing out of it...using it as a "nursery log" as the sign said.
Shortly after the Quinault rain forest, highway 101 takes a turn and starts hugging the shore. I stopped at Ruby Beach (recommended by the policeman who stopped me for speeding....). It was gray and misty and threatening rain at any second so I grabbed my poncho and headed down to the beach. There was the usual jumble of driftlogs tossed on the shore like careless giant-child being messy with his Tinker-Toys. There were also sea stacks off to the right where columns of stone had been carved by wave and water action. I started to head that way but the tide looked to be coming in and not knowing how fast or high, I thought I might get cut off so I turned back and just looked from where I was.
The whole beach was in contrast to the beach at Leadbetter Point. The surf here pounded the shore with crashing waves and there was very little (if any) sand here. The shore was made up of smoothly rounded rocks that gradually decreased in size as you approached the water. If I looked closely enough at the sand grains, I suspect they'd have been smoothly rounded as well. It was as if the beach was a fractal design where every piece looks just like every other piece if blow up or reduce them up to the comparable size.
After 101 turned back east, landscape began to change. The road became windy and the water along the road calmer with no more pounding waves. At some point it was as if I'd crossed an invisible line and the rain and mist and clouds I'd been moving through all day gave way to clear sky, sunshine and dry pavement.
In Port Angeles, I stopped at a grocery store for bagels and grapes. Then I followed signs to Olympic National Park, Hurricane Ridge and Heart o' the Hills campground.
At the park entrance, I looked at the sign noting the entrance and camping fees then got in line to enter. When I got to the toll booth, I saw the sign that said "Campground Full" and started to explain to the ranger that I only wanted a campsite and just saw the sign so I wanted to pull a U-ey. He told me that there were actually a few sites left and it happened to be a "free access" day so I didn't have to pay the entrance fee either.
Teela Brown strikes again....
I found a nice camp spot, pitched my tent and made some supper. It's a wonderful campground! I could see setting up a base camp here and do day-trip hikes in the park.
I drove through a lot of forested areas in various stages of cutting. Most places had signs that said what growth forest this was (mostly 2nd and 3rd), when it was cut last, when it was due to be harvested again.
I kept seeing signs about the illegality of using compression brakes inside city limits and I'm not sure what that means. I assume it has something to do with logging trucks.
I also saw a lot of triagular green tubes attached to trees. They look like the bug traps Donna used to set for the USDA only hers were orange.
In Aberdeen, I got stopped for speeding...50 in a 30 zone...yowza, was I ever not paying attention. However, he let me off with just a warning because his radar didn't "get a lock" on me. I thanked him kindly! and asked for directions to the fish hatchery. I then decided not to go there because it was quite a ways off of highway 101.
In Hoquim I saw signs for the "Historic Hoquim Castle - 2 Blk!" and thought it might be worth a stop so I went looking for it. Never found it, though.
In Humptulips (who thinks up these names???) I stopped at a salmon hatchery. There were giant open tanks covered with mesh about the size of chain link. I assume it's there to keep birds from picking off the small fish. There was a sign for visitor parking but no info about the facility. I wandered around a little...saw fry about 4-6 inches long leaping toward the spouts pouring water into their tank then went back to the car and had breakfast (more granola and milk). I had some jerky and pop earlier when I stopped for gas so I didn't really get hungry until now.
At the Quinault Rain Forest I stopped at the National Fish Hatchery. It was no more populated than the last one I stopped at but this one had a nice visitor center with information and displays. The rain has stopped for the time being and it's a little brighter here but it's still overcast, cool and windy.
Lake Quinault Lodge is fantastic! It's design is very similar to the Starved Rock Lodge in Ilinois only with some specifically Northwest touches in the stencilling on the beams...not to mention the mountain-backed view of the lake with mist-shrouded peaks. I had lunch in the restaurant, wandered around the grounds and bought some postcards in the gift shop.
I hiked one of the shorter rain forest trails near the lodge. It was weird and wonderful all at the same time. There were all these huge trees draped with moss and lichen and the undergrowth was all lush ferns and mosses. It made me feel very, very small and very young (embyonic young), by comparison.
All the growth deadened sounds and I found myself wanting to tiptoe. My shoes crunching on the gravel sounded blasphemous in the hush. At one point I stood still and held my breath to listen. I could hear a faint rustle of trees in the wind high above in the canopy, an insect of some sort behind me and to my right, and another insect further away to my left. That was it. None of the cacophany of rustlings, chirpings, and creakings I normally associate with wooded environments.
About halfway through, I started to meet other hikers and, about 2/3 through, the quiet mood was pretty well shattered when I got stuck behind a group with a number of small children in dire need of a nap. I eventually got past them and some peace returned but as I got closer to the trailhead, I kept meeting more and more people.
On the way out, I stopped to see "The Big Cedar"... It's basicaly the stump of what had been an enormous cedar tree. The remaining stump is several stories high and rotted out in the center. It was raining a little when I arrived but inside the stump the rain didn't penetrate. There was almost enough space in there to set up a tent. The unusual thing about the stump was that many other trees and ferns and mosses were growing out of it...using it as a "nursery log" as the sign said.
Shortly after the Quinault rain forest, highway 101 takes a turn and starts hugging the shore. I stopped at Ruby Beach (recommended by the policeman who stopped me for speeding....). It was gray and misty and threatening rain at any second so I grabbed my poncho and headed down to the beach. There was the usual jumble of driftlogs tossed on the shore like careless giant-child being messy with his Tinker-Toys. There were also sea stacks off to the right where columns of stone had been carved by wave and water action. I started to head that way but the tide looked to be coming in and not knowing how fast or high, I thought I might get cut off so I turned back and just looked from where I was.
The whole beach was in contrast to the beach at Leadbetter Point. The surf here pounded the shore with crashing waves and there was very little (if any) sand here. The shore was made up of smoothly rounded rocks that gradually decreased in size as you approached the water. If I looked closely enough at the sand grains, I suspect they'd have been smoothly rounded as well. It was as if the beach was a fractal design where every piece looks just like every other piece if blow up or reduce them up to the comparable size.
After 101 turned back east, landscape began to change. The road became windy and the water along the road calmer with no more pounding waves. At some point it was as if I'd crossed an invisible line and the rain and mist and clouds I'd been moving through all day gave way to clear sky, sunshine and dry pavement.
In Port Angeles, I stopped at a grocery store for bagels and grapes. Then I followed signs to Olympic National Park, Hurricane Ridge and Heart o' the Hills campground.
At the park entrance, I looked at the sign noting the entrance and camping fees then got in line to enter. When I got to the toll booth, I saw the sign that said "Campground Full" and started to explain to the ranger that I only wanted a campsite and just saw the sign so I wanted to pull a U-ey. He told me that there were actually a few sites left and it happened to be a "free access" day so I didn't have to pay the entrance fee either.
Teela Brown strikes again....
I found a nice camp spot, pitched my tent and made some supper. It's a wonderful campground! I could see setting up a base camp here and do day-trip hikes in the park.
22 August 1997
State Parks - Kites - Oysters
I woke up around 7:30 and headed out for my penninsula exploration day. I started near Ilwaco with the Fort Canby State Park. As with Fort Columbia, this park used to be one of the guardian forts for the Columbia river. This park is much larger and sees a lot more current-day use than Fort Columbia.
I was just doing a "drive-thru" to see what was there, because I didn't know anything about the place beforehand. I saw a sign for a lighthouse and decided to go take a look.
The North Head Lighthouse is at the end of a half-mile or so trail. Along the way I saw 3 deer grazing peacefully right near the trail. When I first saw them, I froze and then verrrry slowly and verrrrry carefully pulled out my camera. I made sure to make no sudden moves or noise. Then I put my camera away and started slowly continuing along the trail. It soon became obvious that I needn't have been so careful. They were obviously very used to people. I walked right by them and they didn't even twitch. They were 2 does and a fawn of almost the same size with fading spots.
The lighthouse itself was built in 1898. It didn't look to be in use any more. I saw a sign that said it was closed to tours and I don't know if that meant they are no longer doing tours at all or just not right then for some reason. The whole place looked kind of disused and unkept so I suspect either the structure had started to deteriorate or they just had to cut back on the personel to do the tours.
I went back to my car and continued the drive into the park. I saw a sign for another lighthouse: Cape Deception. This lighthouse was a longer (over a mile) and more rigorous hike, though not a difficult one. The trail was a lot steeper in spots and definitely designed to be a footpath whereas the North Head trail was wide enough for a vehicle. The trail was also a lot prettier...more "forest-like" and there was a wonderful view of a little cove along the way. There was also a view of the Coast Guard installation just before heading up that last, steep road to the lighthouse.
I'm not sure if this lighthouse is still being used, but the location certainly is. There's a bunker-type building between the lighthouse and the water that is definitely being used. When I was there, there was a woman in uniform monitoring the water with 2-foot long binoculars and a communications radio squawking. My guess is that she was Coast Guard but I couldn't see enough of the uniform to tell.
On the way back to my car, I took a side trip to the Lewis and Clark Interpretive Center but it wasn't open yet. Nice view, though.
I went back to my car and had breakfast from my stash of meals...a ziploc baggie with granola and powdered milk. Just add water, stir and eat. It was actually pretty good.
About this time, I noticed that it's around 10:00 in the morning, I'm more than 1/2way through my first roll of film and I fogot to grab another one before I left the hotel. Oooops...
I passed the pottery place again but the sign still said "Closed." It was one of those home business type things with the pottery studio in a garage. I saw a car in the parking area and the door to the studio open, so I decided to stop anyway and see if someone was around. I got out and walked into the studio calling, 'Hello?' There was a radio playing and wares all around on shelves but no one that I could find. I didn't hang around. I didn't feel right being there without someone in attendance.
I drove on to Long Beach and found a place to park pretty near the beach between a rent-a-horse outfitter and a makeshift campground for kiters. I went out on the sand and sat on a piece of driftwood to watch the kite buggiers for a while. It was pretty amazing. There were a number of them in what looked like an awfully small space. They were all zipping around, turning at random, but nobody ever crashed or tangled kite lines or anything. I kind of wondered why, with 28 miles of beach to play in, they were all confining themselves to such a small area.
I thought about getting my kite from the car and flying some, but if I did that, I'd pretty much have to stand there in one spot and I could see activity stretching down the beach into the distance. I decided I'd see a whole lot more of what was going on if I didn't fly.
I got on the boardwalk and walked down to the main festival area to watch some kite ballet competitions. It just happened to be what was going on at the time. Ballet has never been one of my favorite events so I only watched a couple fliers. Mostly I wandered around looking at all the kites being flown. There was one display of a bunch of UFO-shaped soft kite sculptures. The open "hatch" inflated them. There was also this elderly Japanese man flying little, teeny Roks from a fishing rod. I was talking with another woman who told me that he was a retired policeman from Japan and that he hand makes and paints the little kites he flies. They were works of art, too. He was wearing a vest that was completely covered with kite festival patches so my guess is that he spends a great deal of his retirement doing kite festivals.
The other thing that really captured my attention in the display area were these doll-tether things. They were stuffed doll type things sitting on the ground with a kite line tied to the hand. I don't know if they were actually staked to the ground or if they were just heavy but with the line tied to the hand, as the wind would gust and shift, the hand would go up and down as if the doll were really flying the kite. They were adorable!
There was also a vendor row down the street that leads to the beach. I was impressed with the quality of the "stuff" they were hawking. Usually, you get a lot of junk and cheesy souvenirs but there was actually very little of that. There was some beach wear...hats, sunglasses, sweatshirts, etc for people who may be improperly dressed; some jewelry...cloissonne kite pins and porcelain earings, crystal necklaces, etc; and lots of food...stir fry, smoked and fresh seafood, cajun and sushi, almost none of the usual burger/hotdog/fast food sort of thing.
I got a couple pair of earrings and some wonderful terriyaki. While I was eating, I struck up a conversation with a retired couple (Bob and Joanne) who told me about some good places to see cranberry bogs. They live about 60 miles from Long Beach and have been coming to the festival for 5 years. The festival itself has been going on for 16.
I decided to continue my tour of the penninsula after lunch so I walked back to my car and headed north again. I found the WA State University cranberry research farm that Bob and Joanne told me about. You pick up a brochure near the parking lot and head off for a self-guided tour.
It was fascinating! I'd been eating cranberry sauce and relish and the like for years and never knew anything about how they grow. What I found is that commercial cranberries don't really grow in bogs. They like well-drained, sandy soil. They do sometimes flood the bogs for harvest, though. If they do, it's called a "wet harvest" and machines with beater bars go through the bogs paddling the plants to loosen the berries, which float. Then they corral the floating berries into a corner and another machine sucks them up and dumps them into a wagon or bin. Wet harvested berries are processed to become juice or canned sauce. If they don't flood the bogs to harvest, it's a "dry harvest" and machines comb through the fields cutting off the tops of the plants an the berries. Dry harvested berries are sold unprocessed as fruit.
The berries I saw were all starting to turn red but weren't ripe yet. Apparently, bees are critical to pollination and cranberry growers generally hire bees at pollination time although your basic honeybee is vastly inferior as a pollinator to the non-domesticatable bumblebee. Most growers try to entice bumblebees to hang around by planting bee gardens and providing hive boxes.
Next stop, Oysterville where I watched oysters being harvested down on the shore. Then the ATV drove up with big woven baskets full of oysters. They were selling them fresh (in addition to other seafoods), but I didn't buy any since I didn't have any way of keeping them or cooking them right then.
I drove on to the very end of the penninsula and Willapa Bay Wildlife Refuge. A long, 1-lane road winding through a moss- and lichen-covered tree-tunnel took me the last couple miles out the refuge. There was a 1.8 mile beach trail marked in addition to other trails, but I decided to go the beach route out to the plover nesting area on the tip of the penninsula. It was a low tide, so the oyster beds were exposed and since the beach was on the inland side of the penninsula, the water was very calm. As I was walking back, the tide was starting to come in. I sat on a piece of driftwood and watched the water inch its way up the beach. Not knowing how long it would take or how high the water would get, I wasn't watching -for- anything.
The experience reminded me of an article I'd read about walking a labrynth...where you walk a path that eventually leads to the center but since you must make many turns, in and out, closer and farther from that center point, you never really have any concept of how close or far you are from the destination. It's a very meditative sort of state.
I drew a labrynth in the sand while I was thinking about this. The sand is very fine...not quite powder...and the grains are many different colors of tan and gray and black and brown.
I drove back to Long Beach and hit all the stores on the main drag looking for beach pants but didn't find just what I was looking for. I also went to the kite museum where they had a display of "bug" kites...the silk and bamboo kites made to look like dragonflies or butterflies or other insects. Each kite had a display about where the kite was made and any history or info about the type of kite in general or this specific kite. Since the museum building is so small, they can't display all of the kites in the collection at once (there are thousands). The display changes periodically based on different themes. They were also showing videos about flying the kites and the kite festival.
I then headed back to Fort Canby to make supper since I enjoyed the park so much when I was there earlier. I drove through the camp ground and out onto the jetty. I found a picnic table with a nice view of the Cape Deception lighthouse and that little cove I saw from above while hiking to the lighthouse.
I've been having trouble with my camp stove and I'm not sure what's up with it... I'm managing to get suppers cooked but it's definitely not working properly.
After supper, I hiked around the jetty admiring the shadows, driftwood heaps, patches of sunlight and reflections. It was beautiful in a post-appocalyptic sort of way...
I headed back to Long Beach around 7:30 to catch the lighted-kite night flying and fireworks. I parked near the same end of the boardwalk I had in the morning and walked to the festival area. I found a nice place out of the wind, facing the beach to watch the sun go down. Clouds were moving in and igniting in pinks, oranges and purples. By 8:15, I'm cold and obviously not dresesd to wait another hour or more for the fireworks. I walked back to the car. The car was pointed toward the festival area and where I imagined the fireworks would be so I thought that might not be too bad a place to wait and watch, although they're still a while away.
More and more people stream toward the festival area with lawn chairs and blankets tucked under their arms. Everyone's in couples and groups. I haven't really felt alone before now but I can't help thinking how much easier it would be to wait for the show with some company. Especially since it's too dim to knit. The good thing about watching from the car is that I can beat the crowds leaving...
As it gets darker, I can see the lighted kites when they poke above the boardwalk. Eventually, I decide that the lighted kites was what I really wanted to see, having never seen them before and I could forego the fireworks (since I have seen those before...). Besides, I was getting really tired and have a 20-mile trip to get to the hotel.
I was just doing a "drive-thru" to see what was there, because I didn't know anything about the place beforehand. I saw a sign for a lighthouse and decided to go take a look.
The North Head Lighthouse is at the end of a half-mile or so trail. Along the way I saw 3 deer grazing peacefully right near the trail. When I first saw them, I froze and then verrrry slowly and verrrrry carefully pulled out my camera. I made sure to make no sudden moves or noise. Then I put my camera away and started slowly continuing along the trail. It soon became obvious that I needn't have been so careful. They were obviously very used to people. I walked right by them and they didn't even twitch. They were 2 does and a fawn of almost the same size with fading spots.
The lighthouse itself was built in 1898. It didn't look to be in use any more. I saw a sign that said it was closed to tours and I don't know if that meant they are no longer doing tours at all or just not right then for some reason. The whole place looked kind of disused and unkept so I suspect either the structure had started to deteriorate or they just had to cut back on the personel to do the tours.
I went back to my car and continued the drive into the park. I saw a sign for another lighthouse: Cape Deception. This lighthouse was a longer (over a mile) and more rigorous hike, though not a difficult one. The trail was a lot steeper in spots and definitely designed to be a footpath whereas the North Head trail was wide enough for a vehicle. The trail was also a lot prettier...more "forest-like" and there was a wonderful view of a little cove along the way. There was also a view of the Coast Guard installation just before heading up that last, steep road to the lighthouse.
I'm not sure if this lighthouse is still being used, but the location certainly is. There's a bunker-type building between the lighthouse and the water that is definitely being used. When I was there, there was a woman in uniform monitoring the water with 2-foot long binoculars and a communications radio squawking. My guess is that she was Coast Guard but I couldn't see enough of the uniform to tell.
On the way back to my car, I took a side trip to the Lewis and Clark Interpretive Center but it wasn't open yet. Nice view, though.
I went back to my car and had breakfast from my stash of meals...a ziploc baggie with granola and powdered milk. Just add water, stir and eat. It was actually pretty good.
About this time, I noticed that it's around 10:00 in the morning, I'm more than 1/2way through my first roll of film and I fogot to grab another one before I left the hotel. Oooops...
I passed the pottery place again but the sign still said "Closed." It was one of those home business type things with the pottery studio in a garage. I saw a car in the parking area and the door to the studio open, so I decided to stop anyway and see if someone was around. I got out and walked into the studio calling, 'Hello?' There was a radio playing and wares all around on shelves but no one that I could find. I didn't hang around. I didn't feel right being there without someone in attendance.
I drove on to Long Beach and found a place to park pretty near the beach between a rent-a-horse outfitter and a makeshift campground for kiters. I went out on the sand and sat on a piece of driftwood to watch the kite buggiers for a while. It was pretty amazing. There were a number of them in what looked like an awfully small space. They were all zipping around, turning at random, but nobody ever crashed or tangled kite lines or anything. I kind of wondered why, with 28 miles of beach to play in, they were all confining themselves to such a small area.
I thought about getting my kite from the car and flying some, but if I did that, I'd pretty much have to stand there in one spot and I could see activity stretching down the beach into the distance. I decided I'd see a whole lot more of what was going on if I didn't fly.
I got on the boardwalk and walked down to the main festival area to watch some kite ballet competitions. It just happened to be what was going on at the time. Ballet has never been one of my favorite events so I only watched a couple fliers. Mostly I wandered around looking at all the kites being flown. There was one display of a bunch of UFO-shaped soft kite sculptures. The open "hatch" inflated them. There was also this elderly Japanese man flying little, teeny Roks from a fishing rod. I was talking with another woman who told me that he was a retired policeman from Japan and that he hand makes and paints the little kites he flies. They were works of art, too. He was wearing a vest that was completely covered with kite festival patches so my guess is that he spends a great deal of his retirement doing kite festivals.
The other thing that really captured my attention in the display area were these doll-tether things. They were stuffed doll type things sitting on the ground with a kite line tied to the hand. I don't know if they were actually staked to the ground or if they were just heavy but with the line tied to the hand, as the wind would gust and shift, the hand would go up and down as if the doll were really flying the kite. They were adorable!
There was also a vendor row down the street that leads to the beach. I was impressed with the quality of the "stuff" they were hawking. Usually, you get a lot of junk and cheesy souvenirs but there was actually very little of that. There was some beach wear...hats, sunglasses, sweatshirts, etc for people who may be improperly dressed; some jewelry...cloissonne kite pins and porcelain earings, crystal necklaces, etc; and lots of food...stir fry, smoked and fresh seafood, cajun and sushi, almost none of the usual burger/hotdog/fast food sort of thing.
I got a couple pair of earrings and some wonderful terriyaki. While I was eating, I struck up a conversation with a retired couple (Bob and Joanne) who told me about some good places to see cranberry bogs. They live about 60 miles from Long Beach and have been coming to the festival for 5 years. The festival itself has been going on for 16.
I decided to continue my tour of the penninsula after lunch so I walked back to my car and headed north again. I found the WA State University cranberry research farm that Bob and Joanne told me about. You pick up a brochure near the parking lot and head off for a self-guided tour.
It was fascinating! I'd been eating cranberry sauce and relish and the like for years and never knew anything about how they grow. What I found is that commercial cranberries don't really grow in bogs. They like well-drained, sandy soil. They do sometimes flood the bogs for harvest, though. If they do, it's called a "wet harvest" and machines with beater bars go through the bogs paddling the plants to loosen the berries, which float. Then they corral the floating berries into a corner and another machine sucks them up and dumps them into a wagon or bin. Wet harvested berries are processed to become juice or canned sauce. If they don't flood the bogs to harvest, it's a "dry harvest" and machines comb through the fields cutting off the tops of the plants an the berries. Dry harvested berries are sold unprocessed as fruit.
The berries I saw were all starting to turn red but weren't ripe yet. Apparently, bees are critical to pollination and cranberry growers generally hire bees at pollination time although your basic honeybee is vastly inferior as a pollinator to the non-domesticatable bumblebee. Most growers try to entice bumblebees to hang around by planting bee gardens and providing hive boxes.
Next stop, Oysterville where I watched oysters being harvested down on the shore. Then the ATV drove up with big woven baskets full of oysters. They were selling them fresh (in addition to other seafoods), but I didn't buy any since I didn't have any way of keeping them or cooking them right then.
I drove on to the very end of the penninsula and Willapa Bay Wildlife Refuge. A long, 1-lane road winding through a moss- and lichen-covered tree-tunnel took me the last couple miles out the refuge. There was a 1.8 mile beach trail marked in addition to other trails, but I decided to go the beach route out to the plover nesting area on the tip of the penninsula. It was a low tide, so the oyster beds were exposed and since the beach was on the inland side of the penninsula, the water was very calm. As I was walking back, the tide was starting to come in. I sat on a piece of driftwood and watched the water inch its way up the beach. Not knowing how long it would take or how high the water would get, I wasn't watching -for- anything.
The experience reminded me of an article I'd read about walking a labrynth...where you walk a path that eventually leads to the center but since you must make many turns, in and out, closer and farther from that center point, you never really have any concept of how close or far you are from the destination. It's a very meditative sort of state.
I drew a labrynth in the sand while I was thinking about this. The sand is very fine...not quite powder...and the grains are many different colors of tan and gray and black and brown.
I drove back to Long Beach and hit all the stores on the main drag looking for beach pants but didn't find just what I was looking for. I also went to the kite museum where they had a display of "bug" kites...the silk and bamboo kites made to look like dragonflies or butterflies or other insects. Each kite had a display about where the kite was made and any history or info about the type of kite in general or this specific kite. Since the museum building is so small, they can't display all of the kites in the collection at once (there are thousands). The display changes periodically based on different themes. They were also showing videos about flying the kites and the kite festival.
I then headed back to Fort Canby to make supper since I enjoyed the park so much when I was there earlier. I drove through the camp ground and out onto the jetty. I found a picnic table with a nice view of the Cape Deception lighthouse and that little cove I saw from above while hiking to the lighthouse.
I've been having trouble with my camp stove and I'm not sure what's up with it... I'm managing to get suppers cooked but it's definitely not working properly.
After supper, I hiked around the jetty admiring the shadows, driftwood heaps, patches of sunlight and reflections. It was beautiful in a post-appocalyptic sort of way...
I headed back to Long Beach around 7:30 to catch the lighted-kite night flying and fireworks. I parked near the same end of the boardwalk I had in the morning and walked to the festival area. I found a nice place out of the wind, facing the beach to watch the sun go down. Clouds were moving in and igniting in pinks, oranges and purples. By 8:15, I'm cold and obviously not dresesd to wait another hour or more for the fireworks. I walked back to the car. The car was pointed toward the festival area and where I imagined the fireworks would be so I thought that might not be too bad a place to wait and watch, although they're still a while away.
More and more people stream toward the festival area with lawn chairs and blankets tucked under their arms. Everyone's in couples and groups. I haven't really felt alone before now but I can't help thinking how much easier it would be to wait for the show with some company. Especially since it's too dim to knit. The good thing about watching from the car is that I can beat the crowds leaving...
As it gets darker, I can see the lighted kites when they poke above the boardwalk. Eventually, I decide that the lighted kites was what I really wanted to see, having never seen them before and I could forego the fireworks (since I have seen those before...). Besides, I was getting really tired and have a 20-mile trip to get to the hotel.
21 August 1997
Getting to Long Beach
It was an uneventful trip west.. Good weather for travelling, smooth flights.
I started listening to Cry of the Kalihari by Mark & Delia Owens on the way to Omaha and finished the first tape. It's about a couple who sold all their posessions, pooled their money and went to Africa to do research. The book is taken from their diary entries of their experiences and adventures. The reading alternates between "Mark"s voice and "Delia"s and it's in an informal tone...much as if you were reading their diaries directly. I'm torn between admiring their dedication and belief in their cause and being incredulous at the way they pulled up roots and staked everything without a real plan in place.
On the first flight, I knitted most of a "Coronet" lace doily in a dusty rose color for Mom's new living room decor. I'd have probably finished it except that I dozed for a bit after lunch on the second flight.
First flight, I sat with a young girl (12?) travelling to Oregon to live with her father for a year and an older woman headed for Vancouver. I had my knitting and the girl had a cross-stitch bib (that she never actually worked on) and the woman was also a knitter so we talked needle crafts some during the trip.
Second flight I sat next to some guy who kept to himself.
I arrived in Seattle on time and miracle of miracles, my luggage did too! That was one big load off my mind.
It turned out to be a really good thing that I had rental car reservations in advance. A lot of the rental places had signs up saying that they had no cars available without a reservation. As it was, the Hertz line was pretty long. Somehow I ended up with a car one class higher than the one I'd reserved (for the same price)...I didn't complain. It's a 97 Escort so it's not much different than what I have at home...except it's an automatic and has power windows and locks.
I hit the road and headed south on I-5. For the most part, it was 3- or 4-lane freeway until I turned off to catch Hwy 30 along the Columbia River and headed west to Astoria, OR. There were spots along the drive down I-5 where a little clearing had been made and it looked like they were "pre-constructing" log homes. The houses were set up high on a scaffold-type base which made me think they were "kits" or something that would be broken down and shipped out when they were done.
There was a really cool rest area along the way somewhere. I know... one doesn't usually wax poetic about a rest area but this one had a nice hiking trail into the forest. It was labeled as part of the "pet exercise area" but it made for a nice walking break from driving. It was also my first real taste of being in the Pacific NW trees. Turns out is was the merest taste...
The Hwy 30 part was a prettier drive than the interstate with a lot of curves and hills and not-quite mountain type driving...center passing lanes up the hills and steep slopes going up from one side and down from the other of the highway. Some slopes were blanketed with trees and some had been logged in "bald spots" with nothing but stumps left. I drove through an industrial-looking area that had piles and piles of stripped tree trunks stacked everywhere waiting to be shipped down the river. I know there's a huge demand for lumber and pulpwood but it was fairly depressing to see so many trees "slaughtered."
Just across the river there was a sign along the road for "Mt Saint Helens Viewpoint" so I pulled over to take a look. One of the disadvantages of driving alone is that I can't do any real "looking at the scenery" unless I stop. And when there's scenery everywhere, it either means that I miss a lot of it or travel very slowly. Anyway, I pulled over at the viewpoint and it was impressive. Even if I had no clue which of the mounds in the distance was St. Helens...
I got to the hotel in Astoria about 6:30, checked in and almost immediately headed out again. You'd think after driving to Omaha, flying to Seattle then driving to Astoria, I'd want to get out of the car for a while. So, call me crazy...
I wanted to head toward Long Beach to scope out the territory and find a park where I could cook some supper. I took the bridge aross the Columbia to Washington. This is quite a bridge... The Oregon end arches upward several stories high and then corkscrews back down to ground level. I think maybe it's to allow ships to pass without having to have a drawbridge sort of thing. The whole bridge is over 4 miles long...all over water.
Not too far from the WA end of the bridge is Fort Columbia State Park. It used to be one of the 3 forts that guarded the mouth of the Columbia river. It's a very nice, very historic park. I pulled up to a picnic area and got out the camp stove and stuff for supper. While the spinach tortelini and sauce cooked, I snacked on grapes and sourdough rolls I brought from home and looked out over the Columbia toward Astoria. It was very peaceful and beautiful.
After supper, I took the historic walk through and around the batteries and guns left from the fort days. The guns there could shoot a 105 pound, armor-piercing shell more than 15 miles. Most of the artillery was dismantled after WWII. Now it's part of the WA state park system. The original quarters are now hostels and the grounds are picnic and hiking areas. There's no camping.
After my walk around, it was still light and there was a nice breeze so I thought I'd go the rest of the way to Long Beach to see if there was any kite action going on.
Some of the things I noticed about most of the penninsula communities on my way to Long Beach: there was driftwood incorporated everywhere... Some houses had fences made of artfully stacked driftwood. Most of the town areas had driftwood sculptures in public areas. There were also very nice murals on a lot of the big walls. Very well done depictions of historic moments of the area.
It was turning dusk by the time I got there and the main drag through town had a real carnival atmosphere. I drove through, turned, and headed back. Well...ok, so I stopped in one kite store that was still open to look around and get some postcards. I noted several places of interest to check out tomorrow...a pottery place, a local fresh seafood place where they also sold smoked seafood, several kite stores and a couple fish hatcheries. On past Long Beach there should be oyster farms and cranberry bogs to check out.
I plan to get up whenever I wake up tomorrow and spend the day doing most of that.
I started listening to Cry of the Kalihari by Mark & Delia Owens on the way to Omaha and finished the first tape. It's about a couple who sold all their posessions, pooled their money and went to Africa to do research. The book is taken from their diary entries of their experiences and adventures. The reading alternates between "Mark"s voice and "Delia"s and it's in an informal tone...much as if you were reading their diaries directly. I'm torn between admiring their dedication and belief in their cause and being incredulous at the way they pulled up roots and staked everything without a real plan in place.
On the first flight, I knitted most of a "Coronet" lace doily in a dusty rose color for Mom's new living room decor. I'd have probably finished it except that I dozed for a bit after lunch on the second flight.
First flight, I sat with a young girl (12?) travelling to Oregon to live with her father for a year and an older woman headed for Vancouver. I had my knitting and the girl had a cross-stitch bib (that she never actually worked on) and the woman was also a knitter so we talked needle crafts some during the trip.
Second flight I sat next to some guy who kept to himself.
I arrived in Seattle on time and miracle of miracles, my luggage did too! That was one big load off my mind.
It turned out to be a really good thing that I had rental car reservations in advance. A lot of the rental places had signs up saying that they had no cars available without a reservation. As it was, the Hertz line was pretty long. Somehow I ended up with a car one class higher than the one I'd reserved (for the same price)...I didn't complain. It's a 97 Escort so it's not much different than what I have at home...except it's an automatic and has power windows and locks.
I hit the road and headed south on I-5. For the most part, it was 3- or 4-lane freeway until I turned off to catch Hwy 30 along the Columbia River and headed west to Astoria, OR. There were spots along the drive down I-5 where a little clearing had been made and it looked like they were "pre-constructing" log homes. The houses were set up high on a scaffold-type base which made me think they were "kits" or something that would be broken down and shipped out when they were done.
There was a really cool rest area along the way somewhere. I know... one doesn't usually wax poetic about a rest area but this one had a nice hiking trail into the forest. It was labeled as part of the "pet exercise area" but it made for a nice walking break from driving. It was also my first real taste of being in the Pacific NW trees. Turns out is was the merest taste...
The Hwy 30 part was a prettier drive than the interstate with a lot of curves and hills and not-quite mountain type driving...center passing lanes up the hills and steep slopes going up from one side and down from the other of the highway. Some slopes were blanketed with trees and some had been logged in "bald spots" with nothing but stumps left. I drove through an industrial-looking area that had piles and piles of stripped tree trunks stacked everywhere waiting to be shipped down the river. I know there's a huge demand for lumber and pulpwood but it was fairly depressing to see so many trees "slaughtered."
Just across the river there was a sign along the road for "Mt Saint Helens Viewpoint" so I pulled over to take a look. One of the disadvantages of driving alone is that I can't do any real "looking at the scenery" unless I stop. And when there's scenery everywhere, it either means that I miss a lot of it or travel very slowly. Anyway, I pulled over at the viewpoint and it was impressive. Even if I had no clue which of the mounds in the distance was St. Helens...
I got to the hotel in Astoria about 6:30, checked in and almost immediately headed out again. You'd think after driving to Omaha, flying to Seattle then driving to Astoria, I'd want to get out of the car for a while. So, call me crazy...
I wanted to head toward Long Beach to scope out the territory and find a park where I could cook some supper. I took the bridge aross the Columbia to Washington. This is quite a bridge... The Oregon end arches upward several stories high and then corkscrews back down to ground level. I think maybe it's to allow ships to pass without having to have a drawbridge sort of thing. The whole bridge is over 4 miles long...all over water.
Not too far from the WA end of the bridge is Fort Columbia State Park. It used to be one of the 3 forts that guarded the mouth of the Columbia river. It's a very nice, very historic park. I pulled up to a picnic area and got out the camp stove and stuff for supper. While the spinach tortelini and sauce cooked, I snacked on grapes and sourdough rolls I brought from home and looked out over the Columbia toward Astoria. It was very peaceful and beautiful.
After supper, I took the historic walk through and around the batteries and guns left from the fort days. The guns there could shoot a 105 pound, armor-piercing shell more than 15 miles. Most of the artillery was dismantled after WWII. Now it's part of the WA state park system. The original quarters are now hostels and the grounds are picnic and hiking areas. There's no camping.
After my walk around, it was still light and there was a nice breeze so I thought I'd go the rest of the way to Long Beach to see if there was any kite action going on.
Some of the things I noticed about most of the penninsula communities on my way to Long Beach: there was driftwood incorporated everywhere... Some houses had fences made of artfully stacked driftwood. Most of the town areas had driftwood sculptures in public areas. There were also very nice murals on a lot of the big walls. Very well done depictions of historic moments of the area.
It was turning dusk by the time I got there and the main drag through town had a real carnival atmosphere. I drove through, turned, and headed back. Well...ok, so I stopped in one kite store that was still open to look around and get some postcards. I noted several places of interest to check out tomorrow...a pottery place, a local fresh seafood place where they also sold smoked seafood, several kite stores and a couple fish hatcheries. On past Long Beach there should be oyster farms and cranberry bogs to check out.
I plan to get up whenever I wake up tomorrow and spend the day doing most of that.
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