JUNE 25- With the sky looking
dreary, we left San Francisco across the Golden Gate Bridge and bid
civilization adieu for the day. Our first stop along the PCH was in Bodega Bay,
just to antagonize some birds. The harbor was cold and grey, not a soul was
seen amongst the sharp rocks that littered the seascape and the parking lot was
vacant except for our own White Whale. We hopped back in car and continued
through the rain up the coast, ever wary of our new winged friends. Further up
the coast, we pulled off at a cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean- a perfect
spot for hitting rocks into the sea. We brought out our yellow wiffle ball bat
and swing after swing, rained pebbles down on the cresting waves. Our energy
quashed for the time being, we piled back into the car and continued north
towards the Redwoods. It was late afternoon by the time we arrived at Humboldt
Redwoods State Park, which left us just enough time to explore the forest. Our first
pull-off from the Avenue of the Giants led us right below a grove of
magnificently tall trees, and tumbling out of the car we ran into the woods
towards a stream. We deftly crossed the stream along a fallen giant, came back,
and continued up the road along the Eel River. After about another half an hour
of driving, we pulled off again at the top of a boat access road and went down
to explore the river. The water was beautiful, winding amongst giant trees and
edged by weathered stones- prime for skipping. We all worked up a sweat
throwing rocks and skipping stones, and before any of us knew it Jackson was
swimming in the river. Recognizing a good idea when we saw one, each of us
followed suit as the daylight began to fade. Followers of this blog may be aware
of the enormous inflatable boat that occupies our rooftop carrier. None of us
had ever inflated it before, so we neither knew how big the boat was nor how
long it took to inflate. Without a campsite reserved however, the other side of
the river was an enticing Eden that beckoned to host our tents. We debated the
feasibility of fjording the river with our stuff, as was tradition on the
Oregon Trail and required massive amounts of grit to pull off. Light was fading
quickly, so we went to investigate our boat and what to do with the Whale while
we camped. Upon arrival at the car, a young man about our age approached us at
our car. He told us a tale of getting separated from his mother and asked if we
had any place for him to stay. We instead offered to call somebody for him,
which he politely declined and instead asked for some food. We shared our
peanut butter and jelly with him, and after watching him make his sandwich
(using the half of a plastic knife we had been keeping in the jar for
spreading) we let him keep the entire jar. Our grit rattled, we all agreed that
maybe camping in the remote Humboldt Redwoods might attract more
runaways/transients and set off to campsite just outside the park.
JUNE 26- The next morning, still
under grey skies, we departed from the Redwoods and headed back to the coast to
continue our drive north. We stopped for lunch along the coast of Oregon,
overlooking the craggy rocks scattered along the frothy sea and breaking waves,
and made sandwiches on the hood of the Whale. If anybody is ever in need of a
delicious and cheap sandwich: deli turkey, ham, and salami with mayo, mustard,
and Lowry’s seasoned salt on whole grain bread. We continued along our way,
next pulling off about an hour or two later at a place called Whalehead Rock
(or something like that) for a quick hike. The hike was down a narrow path,
less than a foot wide, through five-foot high morning glory and other brush and
was slick with mud. The bottom was glorious, toes were dipped in the Pacific
Ocean (one person went swimming), and we basked in the clouds while
procrastinating our return walk up the hill. Others and I grabbed a stick to
help our ascent (Chris already had Excalibur, one of the few times aside from
fire-stoking that his stick wasn’t in the way), but the walk was still brutal.
Where we could slide down the mud, it was that much harder to get back up. Once
we got back to the top, Jackson swore off hiking for the second time and we
muddily piled back into the car. It was getting late, so we decided to drive to
Eugene to stay the night instead of trying to camp. Along the way, under advice
from a former local, we stopped in Cape Arago near Coos Bay to look for sea
lions (mission accomplished) and then headed to I-5 for a faster drive to
Eugene. We Pricelined a cheap motel for a place to stay, and found one within
walking distance of the U of O and downtown Eugene for cheap (Timber’s Motel-
not too shabby a place to stay, very friendly). We walked over to Max’s Tavern
for an early celebration of Leighton’s birthday with cheap pitchers- all in all
a grand time.
JUNE 27- We left Eugene the next
day, and raced to get to Olympic National Forest/Park with enough daylight left
to see part of it. We drove up I-5 through Portland, but had to save it for a
future destination for a future trip, and got to the Olympic Peninsula by
mid-afternoon. We had a quick drive up
Mt. Walker for a great view of the peninsula and got to our campsite in Sequim
(pronounced “Squim” apparently) well before the sun went down. According to the
Internet, Sequim gets half the annual rainfall compared to the rest of the
peninsula, which held true for us as we finally had a dry night camping. The
sunset was beautiful over the bay, with fish flopping against the surface for
unfortunate insects. We weren’t the only ones to notice the activity in the
water, and it wasn’t long before we made another new friend. He swam in from
the bay, towards the shore and did flips against the wall while he hunted for
dinner. We watched this seal for thirty minutes easily, and watched at least
three other seals came to join him in our shared bay. Eventually the light
faded and we headed back to camp for the night.
JUNE 28- The next morning we had a
late start (leaving camp around noon) and set off to explore the park before
heading to Seattle. Our first stop (and ultimately only- more to follow) was a
drive up Hurricane Ridge. The vistas were stunning, glaciated peaks dotted the
horizon and lush green color filled the valleys. At the summit, there was a
large glacier that had still yet to melt from the winter. Naturally, we had a
snowball fight in one of the most epic settings of all snowball fight history-
on top of a mountain. We felt more like eight year olds than the actual kids
who were watching us, snowballs flying back and forth and peals of laughter
dominated the ambient sounds. We had a catch in the parking lot, and set off
back down the mountain to further explore the park. Two things you should know
about the context of what happened next: first, the drive down was very steep
and second, our brakes were already pretty worn down before this drive. We
drove about a couple miles to the bottom, and yada yada yada, we were stopped
at a stoplight back at the main road and a pedestrian comments to us through the
open window “Hey dude, your tire’s smoking!” We took a look, and although it
wasn’t the tire, our brakes were shot. We had few options left other than to
head to Seattle and look for a shop to get them fixed before we descended the
Rockies. We drove back, away from the Hoh Rainforest (another future
destination for a future trip), and hopped on a ferry to Seattle for the
weekend.
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