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Juan De Fuca Strait:
The island has a low profile, so the winds and weather pass
over heading for the mainland. The climate is therefore
milder than any province in Canada.
We’re staying at the Harbor Towers, on the next to highest
floor. What a beautiful view of the harbor. On the horizon
are the snow capped Canadian Rockies. Our room is a suite, a
bed, lounge, kitchen, and bath. It’s so nice we should be
staying for a week. If only we could get the windows open.
There isn’t any air conditioning, and it’s 28 degrees Celsius.
That’s about 90 degrees, and it’s hot.
Tammy, the ferry lady, had told us about the High Tea at the
Empress Hotel. We liked the idea and she made reservations.
The Empress Hotel is the last and furthest west of the
Canadian Pacific’s hotels. We’ve visited several of them in
earlier travels. We were settled quickly and the Empress was
only a few blocks away. It was easy to find.
Empress Hotel:
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Empress Hotel:
The weather is so nice, there are flower gardens everywhere.
At the hotel they had a lovely rose garden, which we couldn’t
resist walking around.
High Tea:
th
Inside; the hotel was like stepping back into the 19 century.
It’s grand appointments, with chandeliers, and Oriental
Carpets. The dining area was quaint, with drapes on the
windows.
The Maitre ‘d greeted us and led us to our table alongside the
windows. It was special with a dark table cloth, set for two.
Our waiter had a white half coat, and a serving towel on his
arm.
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High Tea:
Here we are at the Empress Hotel at High Tea. Formal attire
requirements had been eased, so we were comfortably dressed.
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High Tea:
It was only a moment before he poured two champagne
glasses of sparkling Mimosa for us.
As we sipped he served us a traditional three tier curate stand
of hors d’oeuvres and a pot of hot tea.
The sandwiches were grand. Egg salad, Truffle pate’, Smoked
Salmon and Garlic spread. Arlene liked the short bread with
country butter with her tea. I had the strawberry jam with a
scone. The top tier was chocolate pastries and bite size
cheesecakes.
We enjoyed the quiet ambience and attention. Arlene thought
we should walk around later and talked about how everything
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High Tea:
had changed from the forests of Washington State to the city
of Victoria.
Our waiter poured each of us another cup of the Empress
House Tea and served fresh ripe strawberries in a pastry cup
with Lemon Moose and cream.
It was grand. Arlene was right this was a splendid way to
orient ourselves to the city. As we left we felt comfortable,
but a bit lazy. We walked out of the grand hotel and re-visited
the flower gardens.
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Victoria:
Arlene took a moment beside the Hydrangeas.
Our stroll led us across the park down to the harbor. There
we sat watching the boats and planes. Several 8 passenger
float planes buzzed across the waves and took off. Probably
toward Vancouver or Seattle. Their high whine turbines lifted
them effortlessly.
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Victoria:
A couple of 40 foot sail boats rocked gently at anchor, but all
over the harbor were these cute little tour boats scooting
around.
We talked with a couple of folks while resting at the harbor
park. They were from different parts of the world. One from
South Africa and a couple from Halifax, Nova Scotia. They
had each migrated to Victoria, and loved it. As the day grew
longer we took our time strolling back to our hotel. What a
lovely day.
We’re up, 7:00 a.m. and the sun is blazing. It’s that time of
year that it never seems to go up or down, but is always
shining. We’re surely headed for another 90 degree day. I’ll
step out on our balcony and see what the city looks like this
early.
We are about as high as any building, maybe 14 stories. It’s
easy to see the government buildings and the Empress Hotel,
because of their architecture.
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Victoria:
Here is the British Columbia’s Capital Parliament building.
Each of the turrets are copper, giving it the nick name of the
‘Bird Cage’.
Many buildings have modern designs especially the new
condos. There may be more parks than in Washington D.C.
They are everywhere, with beautiful gardens filled with flowers
and mature trees.
Actually, it’s so nice that capital cities all over the world pride
themselves on their beautiful landscaping.
Victoria:
Down in the harbor the small tour boats are waking up; and
scooting around. The sea planes were buzzing around looking
for dock space.
A yawl is motoring toward the Strait. Venders are bringing out
their carts, loaded with northwestern souvenirs, small totems
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poles and Indian relics. There are several that look like they
have hot dogs and snacks, and one large lemonade stand.
A funny thing. Around us at 150 feet are these soaring
pigeons, no they’re sea gulls. When we are in the city we think
there are only two kinds of birds, Pigeons and Sparrows. We
know there are others, Eagles, Hawks etc. that have acclimated
themselves, but the others have really taken over.
Victoria is divided into 11 separate political entities, each with
their own police, fire and social services. Each with their own
elected officials and government employees.
Every one thinks it’s a good idea to consolidate except for the
officials who obviously would lose their jobs. Maybe with the
changing economy and tax laws the voters will make a change.
Although politicians are tough nuts to crack.
Butchart Gardens:
By 10:00 a.m. we were out of the hotel and on the Grey Line
bus headed for the Butchart Gardens. They are world famous
and the reason for our trip to Victoria. Our bus driver was
also our tour guide for the hour drive out to the gardens.
He was swell, and told us all about the growth of the city. In
the past it’s grown like topsy-turvy, but with the 2008
economic collapse there were a lot of fire sales among the
construction companies.
Victoria has such a mild climate that it grows it’s own food for
9 months of the year. The other months they import from
Mexico and California.
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Butchart Gardens:
We have just stopped at the Butterfly Museum. Our driver has
a single comment. ‘Here is the home of the largest moth
known to man’. It has a weird life cycle staying and living in a
cocoon for 5 years. Then popping out and is sexually active
for 3 days before dying. Maybe it’s a little different, but that’s
my short translation.
We moved on to the gardens.
It’s made up of five specific areas, devoted to special flowers
and designs. They are the Sunken Garden my favorite, Italian,
Japanese, and Mediterranean, and Arlene’s favorite the Rose
Garden. It also has concerts and other attractions such as the
Seed and Gift Shop, and several restaurants. It’s 1/3 (55
acres) of the 150 acre estate of the Butchart’s.
They have been welcoming visitors for over 100 years and
always with this greeting.
‘BENVENUTO’
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Butchart Gardens:
We say: ‘Grazie il nostro piacre’.
It is now, 2004, a National Historic Site of Canada and a
Heritage Site location. As such it is protected by law, and can’t
be changed.
We’re not sure what that means, but were told that the paths
around the gardens couldn’t be changed, the Japanese Cherry
Blossom trees lining the drive to the gate couldn’t be replaced.
That doesn’t sound right to us. Why if the gardens are so
wonderful and require so much attention would they be
protected in that manner. We don’t know, but it looked like
there was a lot of work being done inside with over 250
gardeners keeping the place in tip top shape.
Through the gate we had a plan. We’d follow our self guided
tour around the paths. In 2 hours we would tour the gardens,
visit the gift shop and run for the bus.
The gardeners were everywhere, some with shears cutting back
wilted plants or trimming flowers. Some with hoes to rake the
soil which is turned three times a year. All in their green
T-shirts with a big Red Rose insignia on the front, and a
matching green baseball hat with a small Red Rose. They were
all busy, but not so much that they wouldn’t pause and have
their picture taken with their rake, and one or more of the
thousand guests.
The manicuring of the grounds is beyond our imagination.
Each path is etched and edged to ½ inch high. The soil is rot
tilled as we said three times a year leaving it really fluffy. Just
like our pine needles at home when they are first laid down in
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the fall, nice and fluffy. Their soil is made of Miracle-gro. It’s
black and nutritious.
Appendix 1 has a map of the Gardens.
This is the Sunken Garden. It’s the original garden and is built
in a quarry. Robert Butchart ground the limestone from the
quarry from his cement factory. The stone quarry walls are
covered with Ivy. Not English or New England Ivy, but a
larger pointed leaf that’s yellow and greenish. Below the walls
are additional walls of Rhododendreon, so thick and high that
one can’t see through them. Dotted around them are small to
die for character specium
trees like Split Leaf Japanese Maple, and
Dogwood with blossoms so thick they don’t seem to have
leaves.
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Boy! That’s the walls of the quarry, and if that’s not over
whelming try looking at the floor.
I thought that Lady Bird Johnson did a really nice job planting
flowers around Washington D.C.. Especially her Pansy circles
around the Jefferson Memorial which are Richard’s favorite.
She did well but, we’ve never seen anything like this. Here
were yards and yards of Begonias, the size of your fist.
Orange, Red, Rose, Yellow, Pink and other colors known only
to the Butchart Gardeners lined the path and climbed up the
nearby hill.
Near the end of the path way was one of my favorite spots.
Walking over a small raised bridge was a little pond filled with
Lilies. Just under the bridge it drops 60 feet into a larger pond
with one of those ‘Bellagio’ computerized fountains. The kind
that dances all over. It’s pretty, but not like the smaller pond.
It has some tall grasses, reminding me of the Tall Grass
National Monument in Kansas. (They say the entire plains
were once covered with these grasses and that they may be
more beneficial than what we have planted in their place, corn,
wheat, or soybeans.)
Mosses grow along the bank, up to a Weeping Willow which
drapes it’s long limbs like Spanish Moss.
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Butchart Gardens:
It’s a swell place where one could linger and write some poetry
or have a romantic moment. Obviously, this was my favorite
place in the gardens.
We had spent so much time by now that we had to choose
between the Japanese or Rose garden. The aroma from the
roses won us over. Arlene led the way as she passed under
this magnificent arch of flowering Peonies. It was just the
setting for her. She loves Peonies.
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Butchart Gardens:
Beyond the arch was the first big burst of roses. If Jackson-
Perkins had a market on every kind and color of rose. If they
had perfected the 6 inch size of the bloom, they had to have
come here for their inspiration. Orange is a color, Orange and
Cream is another, Orange and Reddish another. Rows of
them all in bloom. Pinks of every variety.
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Butchart Gardens:
Everyone loves Red Roses. They had rows, all in bloom. If a
bloom showed the slightest discolorization a Gardner with his
snippers would clip the pedal.
They recommend we cut our roses back in late January or
February. We do that, but they still look a little leggy and thin.
We were under a time limit as our bus would leave in a short
time and our ferry for Washington around 5:00 p.m. It’s
unfair to come to such a beautiful place when you haven’t
several days to enjoy it. In fact as they change the gardens
every season we would probably need to come back four more
times. This visit was just a tasting.
We headed for the Seed and Gift Shop for our last stop.
We’ve sprinkled summer wild seeds around our backyard pine
trees. We’ve even tried a raised garden, with tomatoes, carrots
and kale. But, we’re not the best gardeners, so growing
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Butchart Gardens:
flowers from seed really isn’t our thing. We passed the shelves
of seed offerings looking for something we could pack into
our bags and then the trailer.
There were all kinds of things, like paper napkins, salt and
pepper shakers, china place settings, pitchers and tea pots. We
kept circling looking over everything. We passed on the
flowery coasters. When in Seattle we bought several hundred
of them, all reminding us of the Pikes Market. We didn’t need
or want any more.
But, what if we could find something that would light our way.
Of course that would be perfect. Here among all these
souvenirs we found enough night lights for everyone in the
family.
Just look at how pretty and functional these are.
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Butchart Gardens:
They didn’t have to be flowers and dragon flies, no there were
plenty of designs. We even bought a commemorative Tea Pot
to remind us of our visit.
Now it was time to dash for the bus.
Crossing the Strait:
We boarded the Victoria Express at 5:30 with our loot, and
grand feeling for this wonderful visit to Canada. Going
through customs was a breeze, with no Custom’s Investigation
. We just showed our passports.
We passed a few ships filled with freight. The sea was calm
again and our trip was without incident.
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Crossing the Strait:
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CHAPTER 7
OLYMPIC NATIONAL PARK
The Olympic National Park poster commemorates the
creation of the park in 1938. Saved by Ranger Doug a
collector of Park Posters.
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Sol Duc:
Our new best gas station has become the Safeway grocery
store. In Port Angles we filled, and headed west along Route
101 into the National Park.
The narrow winding road twisted among the dark tall Douglas
Fir and Aspen. It was a beautiful drive. Lake Crescent’s blue
green waters appeared out of nowhere, about 10 feet below us.
We were surprised, and slowed down. It was even more
beautiful at 35 mph, with the 5,000 – 6,000 foot mountains all
around us.
We wanted to go to the Sol Duc campground, (pronounced
duck). Before we got to the turn off we came upon Fairholm
Campground. It was in the National Park, on the western
shore of Lake Crescent.
That was impossible to pass up. What with our Golden Age
Pass, it’s huge bargain. It was a lovely drive through the
campground, overlooking the lake. We settled into site C66
with a view of the lake, 100 feet below us. The wind was
tapering off. We were glad of it because it had been blowing
up to 50 mph. Although it had been in the 60’s all day we
expected the 30’s, maybe even freezing by morning.
It was still early afternoon so after setting up camp and
unhitching we drove on to Sol Duc. We wanted to see their
hot springs.
Sol Duc is a pretty popular place. It’s inviting with
campgrounds, cabins, hiking and swimming pools.
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Sol Duc:
This is the welcoming center with the mineral springs and
pools behind it.
You must say they looked nice. Well, never-the-less our
enthusiasm was dampened by the hundreds of overweight
adults languishing in the pool and happy children running and
leaping into it.
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Sol Duc:
Arlene’s observation was simple ‘How could they possibly put
enough chlorine in the water to sanitize the pool?’ I agreed.
We passed on the warm soaking and relaxing ‘Mineral Springs’.
Just down the road were some of the cabins and the
campground. The cabins had playgrounds with swings and
slides for the children. We drove on down to the campground
to look around. Their campground had lots of spaces, but
wasn’t nearly as nice as where we were in Fairholm.
The rain that had followed us up the road to Port Angles was
now just rumbles and heavy clouds. The Sol Duc falls were
only a mile up the river and with the weather cool it was too
nice for us to turn down. We had both changed into long
pants and our heavy warm flannel shirts.
The hike wasn’t strenuous, yet, we climbed up and down hills.
The forest was dense, dark with little sun light. The trail was
lined with tall ferns and moss and small Hemlock trees.
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Sol Duc:
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Sol Duc:
We’re use to ferns that are a foot high, and not so thick that
you couldn’t walk through them. These ferns were thick, and
5 feet tall.
Along the way we came upon this old, FDR 1930’s Civilian
Conservation Corp rescue shelter.
Although, I’m not too happy about the drawing, rescue
shelters were important. This one is similar to many, it was
sturdy, built with 12 inch diameter logs, without doors or
windows. They have been a haven for many forest rangers,
hikers and travelers over the years. The work the CCC did is
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Sol Duc:
evident all over the country and we surely appreciate what they
did for us.
The water falls were okay. Moss grows on one steep slope and
the water sprays mist up on the eastern side where so many
hikers had gone. They were getting wet, and probably a lot
colder. We just shuddered and watched.
On the way back we stopped several times and found some
quiet spots along the river. Hikers and tourists didn’t seem to
have much interest in these places.
This was a solitude place along the river where salmon climb
up the small rapids returning to spawn. It was so peaceful,
quiet and romantic we had followed the pine laden path to the
river, climbing out on a large boulder taking a deep drink of
it’s beauty.
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Sol Duc:
Doesn’t Arlene look like she’s conjugering some mischief? We
spent more time here than on our hike.
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Fairholm:
We returned to Lake Crescent, and their lodge. This was a
much larger lake than we had originally believed. We’re
camped on the left of the hillside overlooking the lake.
July should have been a busy time for the lodge, yet, it wasn’t
over crowded. Lots of canoes and row boats were lined ready
for the Guests to take out on the water. The wind was still
pretty strong and probably kept most of the visitors inside.
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Fairholm:
You can see that the lodge looked like an Inn. Very nice and
expensive. Inside we thought we might have dinner, but after
taking a look at the menu decided to pass.
In the lobby there was a coffee table that caught our eye.
Three large carved bald eagles holding a clear glass top.
.
Heading back to camp we passed this pasture filled with
daises. It was so beautiful that once we stopped to admire it
we noticed three deer browsing and eating their evening meal.
They didn’t seem to be the least bit disturbed by us.
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Fairholm:
One stop later we picked up some sour cream to mix with our
‘Olive Pit’ olives from California and tomato salsa.
Vampires:
Forks, Washington is a cool ‘yesterday’ town that everyone has
forgotten unless your driving along the tourists road in the
Olympic National Park. It’s also possible that your one of the
millions of 10-12 year olds in the western hemisphere that
recognize it as the home of the dark side. Here is where the
battle between the Werewolves and the clashing clan of blood
sucking Vampires meet to determine who is mightier.
All go to the Forks High School. On their days off they are
called Spartans.
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Vampires:
We drove up and down main street. At the high school there
were 6 lady Spartans AKA Vampires/Werewolves busy
practicing their moves. Rah! Rah! Sis! Bam! Boom! Were The
Spartan Werewolves!
It’s hard to tell what they were because of their street clothes,
but we think they were.
Further down the street we came across their famous red truck
‘Bella’. Arlene made a point of getting out beside it. She
wants to send the picture to a couple of 10 year olds that she’s
sure would idolize her for it.
It’s true we are in the middle of a massive rainforest, jungle.
It’s so dark and dense that the sun seldom shines through and
unless your on the road or path the jungle is so thick that it
would swallow you in a moment.
It’s a good place for these unseemly characters. Many have
searched for them, but until recently never located. Now,
because of all the interest they have finally found them here in
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Vampires:
Forks, and captured their story in the movie ‘Twilight’. The
movie announces their presence in this small town, where they
come out in the evening and have taken over. Few civilians
have survived.
We drove through town looking both directions. There was
the Twilight Bar and the General Store.
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Vampires:
Arlene, was getting squeamish and nervous. She wanted out
of town before the sun set.
We left happy that we had looked around and that nothing had
happened to us. As we sped down the road toward the Hoh
River and back to the National Park campground we passed
this sign.
If it were true we would really be relieved. Just to make sure
we pressed down on the gas pedal and moved the gage up to
55 Miles.
Hoh Rain Forest:
It was 7:00 and the sun would be setting within two hours.
We only had 18 miles to go, but in this jungle there were
always twists and turns that we had to be careful about.
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Hoh Rain Forest:
It was still daylight when we turned off the State Highway
onto the Park’s road to the Hoh Rain Forest.
Turning our attention to the Temperate Climate Rain Forest.
It’s North America’s largest rain forest area, which we’ve seen
a small part of along the California and Oregon coasts. It
extends into British Columbia and Alaska covering larger and
larger areas along the coast.
We’re more familiar with Rain Forests in Central America and
Brazil. Those are Tropical forests, with more rain, and a
different climate than those along our coast.
Here, our Rain Forests have some specific characteristics
which we will see as we drive into our campground. Generally
they receive around 55 inches of rain, but often in the summer
it falls in the form of mist and fog. We’ve seen that in the
Redwoods at The Lady Bird Johnson Grove.
There are certain kinds of trees, and they typically feed
themselves from their leaves downward through
photosynthesis, instead of from their roots upward. Usually
forest trees regenerate by fire, causing the cones to burst open.
There is so little sunlight, because the canopy is so thick that
these trees regenerate from ‘Nurse Trees’. Trees that have
fallen and support the growth of a new seedling from their
nutrients.
Temperatures are also middling for this rain forest. They run
in a narrow range from 40 to 55 degrees Fahrenheit. That
means we are in for a really nice visit if the rain holds off.
It’s interesting that the largest trees in the world grow along
this temperate zone, Sequoia, Red Woods, Douglas Fir and
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Hoh Rain Forest:
Red Cedar. We’ll see a mix of those trees in the park along
with hardwoods and Hemlock. It will be a real adventure.
The Park road follows the Hoh River. It wanders all over, and
so does the road climbing along side of it, twisting down,
curving around and pitching back. In some places the sun is
so strong and bright that we couldn’t see the road. Elsewhere
the canopy was so dense that we had to turn on the lights to
see our way under the tall trees, and dangling club moss.
We were surprised that the rain valley was just that a valley,
not high in the Olympic Mountains. It was down low along
the river bed.
Once at the visitors gate we were told about the favorite trails,
the campgrounds and lectures. Another 6 miles and we pulled
into Loop B. It was away from the river, where everyone else
wanted to be.
Bravo! We had a pull through. Boy was that nice, shrouded
with tall ferns above my head. It was great. Here is a photo of
our site B 52.
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Hoh Rain Forest:
We were exhausted and after setting up camp, hit the sack.
It’s morning and we’ve revived with a good sleep and
breakfast, we’re prepared for a hike. The Rangers were
escorting a group along the Spruce Trail. We followed along
until he stopped to tell a story of the wind and clouds from the
Pacific and 200 inches of rain. That was enough for me, but
before we could duck out he brought a spray bottle and began
to imitate the heavy rain. Really imaginative you’d say; for an 8
year old.
Holly Moses! We climbed out and headed for another trail.
Trail of Mosses:
It was called the Trail of Mosses and began with a bridge
across this small crystal clear spring fed creek. Then up a bank
into the forest.
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Trail of Mosses:
At the top of the climb we sat beside a tree that had been torn
apart, probably by lighting.
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Trail of Mosses:
We’re not sure why, but in this old growth forest many trees
had fallen. The rotting trunks provided nourishment for the
new seedlings. Even in the density of the canopy you can see
behind Arlene several young trees growing.
We followed the trail. If we can find it.
To step off the trail was to take your life in your own hands.
We were walking along a ridge and on each side the drop was,
when you could see it about 40 feet. Bushes and undergrowth
covered it up.
This was a great hike. It introduced us to the Rain Forest, and
how dense it was. At the end we came out onto a small
opening, there were 5 Elk shoulder high in the grasses. They
weren’t paying any attention to us. One was a young bull.
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Trail of Mosses:
The path led us back to camp. The trailer is hidden beyond
the picnic table.
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Hoh Rain Forest:
Rangers have told us that there are many large animals in the
forest. Grizzly and Black Bears and even more scary, Cougars.
That was a surprise to us. Our first thought was about our
safety. We’ve been in dense forests before, where we couldn’t
see 15 feet away. It’s not a safe place to be if there are bears
around.
We’ve also climbed and crawled across tree falls, where heavy
winds have blown them down. Usually they are so thick that
to get beyond them you have to raise up off the ground and
climb from trunk to trunk. These are bear traps for us poor
hikers.
Different situations obviously call for different actions, but all
of them have three things in common. These rules are: First,
bears have an advantage, whether you see them or not.
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Hoh Rain Forest:
Second, this is their home and their environment. Third, they
follow the same easy trails and paths that we do.
As for Cougars. We have only heard stories of them and how
like all cats they stalk their prey. You may not know they are
there until it’s too late. We’ve been told if you encounter one
to make yourself as large as possible and move away slowly
making lots of noise.
In addition to the three rules there is a fourth. Remember you
lose in any encounter.
Spruce Trail:
The only other trail was the one we listened to the Ranger on
earlier. It was the Spruce Trail and leads to the Hoh River.
This looked good to me except I wanted to take a short cut
from the camp site over to it. That’s impossible. It’s
impossible to go anywhere without following a path. The
underbrush is to dense, the tree limbs hang so low it is
impenetrable across the ground and streams.
So instead we decided to go backwards around the loop trail.
That turned out to be neat. Seeing other hikers approaching
really beats being run down by them from behind.
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Spruce Trail:
The trail was a bit different than the Moss Trail although there
were lots of plants covering the forest floor.
Near the river the trail flattened out. We would walk a while
then encounter a dip, another old bed where the river used to
be, then further on another dip. The river was so old that it
ran flat, with many braids, seemingly changing direction with
each rain fall.
It was lovely, Arlene and I walked or more precisely stumbled
out across the wide river bed filled with rounded rocks of all
sizes. She couldn’t resist and pocketed a small gray one with
white swiveling lines around it.
We sat on one of the huge logs that had been washed up, 4
feet in diameter. It probably was carried down the river
during the spring floods. We talked, laughed and enjoyed the
mountain view in the warm afternoon sun.
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Spruce Trail:
Another consequence of walking in the opposite direction was
that hikers often asked how much further the trail was. It
doesn’t sound like
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Spruce Trail:
much but we thought it was psychologically significant.
Heading back to camp we continued going along the trail in
the opposite direction. For a while it was pretty easy going the
sunlight came through in the afternoon making the hike
pleasant.
As we approached the Campground the trail followed along
another creek before crossing it.
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Hoh Rain Forest:
We took lots of pictures and sketches of these creeks. They
were so different from any we’ve seen, crystal clear, filled with
small fish, long stems of plants and green moss on their banks.
Thick robust tree limbs hanging just feet over the running
water. They were grand.
Back in camp we spent a lazy afternoon preparing to move on
to the Mora Campground. A neighbor took this picture of us
before we packed up. We should ask more people to snap
shots of us together.
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CHAPTER 8
OLYPINIC PENNUSALA
The Beaches:
Our stay had been an eye opener, the density of the
undergrowth, the thick canopy, and as Tarzan lovers, the
jungle environment of the Rain Forest was beyond our
imagination. We were leaving and took one more circle
around the campsites before driving down the long path out of
the Hoh Campground.
Back on the highway we began our search for Mora
Campground and Rialto Beach. Both were nearby, along the
Pacific Coast, and also part of the Rain Forest.
A sign directed us to both the beach and the campground, but
after 12 miles and no additional signs we were losing
confidence of where we were going. We came to a cross-road
and stopped at a café. It was just our luck, an elderly fellow
was getting out of his pick-up. I asked, pointing down one of
the road’s, if it led to Mora Campground and the beach.
His reply was like the old story when you ask about the best
meals in town and always get a list of the worst. Well we’re
slow learners. This friendly fellow who had lived in these
woods his whole life helped us out. ‘Never heard of Mora
Campground.’ ‘Yea. The beach is down that way, but I’ve
never been there either.’
What do you say to that? We got back in our Honda and
headed off down the road where he pointed.
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We found Rialto Beach at the end of the road. Mora must be
somewhere around. We decided to hunt for it later.
We’ve never been to a Northwestern beach that wasn’t lost in
the fog. It’s midday and the fog still covers the sea. These
beaches are long, wide have lots of sand, and few people. We
learned quickly that the water was ice cold so you probably
wanted to wade, not swim, and you had to time your visit. If
the tide was out, there was a large beach to walk and enjoy. If
not it was covered with waves rolling in from further out and
you’d be sure to get soaked. One more obstacle to enjoying a
quick visit to the beach was the drift wood.
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Rialto Beach:
You can actually climb over these logs. We haven’t been to
many Northwestern beaches, so we don’t know for sure, but
everyone we’ve been to we’ve climbed. These are large logs,
stripped of their bark from being tossed around in the surf,
many were a couple of feet in diameter.
This one that Arlene’s leaning on is an exaggeration. The burl
is beautiful. I think she’s trying to figure out how to get it
home, and make a kitchen table out of it. It was so large it
would never fit in our living room as a coffee table either.
We made it over the driftwood and were walking along the
beach. It’s black sand was firm and easy to cross. It was a
pleasant stroll.
Looking around Arlene noticed something in the surf. It’s
cloudy and difficult to differentiate things in the surf, with it’s
foaming waves and mist, but… It popped up then
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Rialto Beach:
disappeared. Again it popped up. A head popped up again.
We could tell it wasn’t a sea serpent. So we didn’t run away.
This time we saw a small tail.
After a little while we both spotted it being washed onto the
shore with a wave. Then flowing back out into the surf. We
weren’t sure, maybe it was a weasel, or a Sea Otter.
It washed ashore again and this time got it’s feet into the sand.
It scampered onto safe ground, looked around and made a
bee-line for the forest beyond the driftwood.
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