Cape Alava and back

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It was rainy the day I woke up at Lake Crescent but I was determined to do the Ozette hike to Cape Alava.  I figured since I had come so far already I wasn't going to stop until I reached the westernmost point of the lower 48 states, seeing I was an hour away plus a three mile hike out and three back.

At Clallam Bay, I ran out to the water and saw two loons.  They were really loons this time.  They did not quack.  They also did not make their loon call, but they were loons.  They alternately dove underwater, staying down a long time.

On the way to Ozette.

First glimpse of the Pacific at Clallam Bay (it's really facing north, not west, so I don't know what body of water this technically is).

I did it.  I hiked 6 miles by myself, out to the Pacific coast at the Olympic shoreline and back.  It rained on me much of the time and I stayed dry- I will now brag about what an experienced hiker I am since I was warm in the rain.  It was through thick rainforest, and I was afraid I would come across a bear because my footsteps were not louder compared to the sound of water dripping everywhere.  So I sang to myself the whole way out.  Singing cuts the aloneness.  I accessed my inner child and made up songs about the forest that went like this:

As you walk through me
You see the mossy mossy trees
You feel the squishy earthy ground
You see hear the birds all around
I am the forest
and I'm alive
I am the forest
and I'm alive
I am the forest
and I'm alive
Everywhere

You get the idea.  I was not afraid anymore on the way back and I did not sing.  So I came really close to more birds, a mouse or something that size and a doe and fawn.  The fawn turned back to look at me, as if it was like what on earth are you?  We just looked at each other like that, about 4 feet from each other, for several seconds.  Then the mother deer called to it, actually called as in "maaaaaa," and the fawn stumbled over a too-large bush to catch up.

The trail is boardwalk all the way out.

This tree pointed the way to the cape.

Banana slugs were everywhere!

These are the trees that meet the weather as it hits from the west.

I made it.  Lunch time.  This is it: the westernmost spot.  Except for Canada, a few miles north...

Low tide.

It was incredibly windy on the coast with nothing having broken the wind for miles and miles.  And miles.  I saw two bald eagles out there.  But it was a relief to get back into the trees, and the mud.  I love my hiking boots!  My feet were so dry.

You can see the younger generation growing out of the older generation.  The trees care for each other.

Somebody burned the trees here to graze cattle years ago and now it's full of birds.

Meat-eater poo?  Too small for bear.

Oh yeah... definitely meat eater poo.  There's hair in there.  Coyote?  Hopefully nothing bigger?

Good car got me all the way.

Ferry back.  The sun came out!

Eerie no?

I made it back to Seattle and to Zamana's.  These are her plants.

Proof I made it to Zamana's.

Thus ended my trek.  It took me, driving from Marquette to Seattle, one week.  Door to door from apartment to apartment, I drove from the 17th until the 28th.  Not bad for an adventure.

The following photos are from the next few days.

Proof I made it to my apartment, as did my stuff.

Welcome to Seattle!

Fremont is a little narcissistic.

Oh yeah.  "You're living my dream." -Ryan  I'm making up for the convenience in space, but that's ok for now.

The very last Doncker's salted caramel.  I saved it..

 ...to be consumed at the end.

My plants made it too!  Including stowaway avocado.

Proof somebody else made it up here as well!

Original Starbucks on Pike believes in the female form.

Rainier came out, of the SKY, and I wanted to see it.  I hence decided I would make it to the top of the space needle without having a panic attack to see the mountain.  I did it with a good friend and closing my eyes in the elevator.  But I did step outside for a quick second to take a picture!

See that thing that looks like a poofed up cloud above Julie's head?  That's Rainier peeking out the top of the clouds.

See the mountain?

The definition of frolic is..

The flying fish salesmen at Pike Place Market had the tail of this thing attached to a string that they pulled if you looked too close.

Nom.

Zamana and I thought this was an appropriate welcome to the city:

I'm going all the way

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Powered by my post-mountain sprouted/rice lentil dinner and the free quinoa cookie I was given by the barista for breakfast (I think I made it west) I headed across the state.  It was Memorial Day, the seventh day of driving since Marquette.  I could not get my keys until Tuesday and Zamana would be working until 9 or 10 that night.  So I decided to make another national park before turning around and coming back.  If I've made it this far, why not make it all the way to the pacific coast?

I stayed at Lake Crescent in Olympic National Park.  I heard owls, saw a bat fluttering across the water, took a dusk hike through old growth rainforest.  I didn't even know we had rainforests on this continent.  We do.

Oh yeah, there's a petrified forest.  Note to come back here.

Another "virtually extinct" plaque.  So interesting.  The Wanapums are around, here and here.

After the Rockies and before the Cascades.

Oh look!  Using a phone in traffic became decidedly more risky all of a sudden.

But I had to get the first glimpse...

I made it.  Here's the evidence.  (This is the Fremont Troll.)

My apartment building doesn't look so bad from the outside.  At least I know I have a place to live in there.  Now let's carry on and go for a ferry ride.

I have a feeling i'm going to be eating a lot of pho.

 My little car is on a ferry!

Who wants to sign a petition for my parents to move here?

Floating bridge.

Clouds stacked on clouds.

Earth touching sky.

Earth touching sky 2: Lake Crescent.

Dusk is a nice time to walk.  There were a couple of blacktail deer.  I heard a few variations of owl song, avoided stepping on a giant snail, saw what I think was a wood duck and also black and white ducks that at first I thought were loons and then quacked.

I take lots of pictures of signs.  But the comment about the very long human presence reminded me of a book I picked up at a Native American bookstore about Port Angeles.  The city eventually changed plans for building a dock because of the sheer amount of human remains and artifacts they were digging up.  The tribe had been involved to preserve them and finally decided enough was enough.  One woman had a response to the surprise people were feeling that there would be so much under the ground right in the spot where people were living today in the city.  She said "Well we weren't idiots, we knew where to live."  And really it's amazing.  It's so peaceful, cool, the water is full of life, it's sheltered from the weather coming in off the ocean.

Standing on the shoulders of giants: the old trees nurse the young ones, which grow right out of the stumps.

I had written: I can't believe I get to live here.  Yellow, purple, pink, orange, white, and the hazy red of the forest floor.  Flowers.  Rainforest.  Tonight i'm staying in a rainforest.

The light was glowing, green-filtered into a million shades.  These pictures do not do it justice.

Enough pictures of trees?  I had a bison burger.  Not a steak yet, Ryan.  I highly recommend staying at Lake Crescent Lodge, most of the pictures of the forest and the lake are from around there.

So there.  I crossed two mountain ranges, made it to Seattle, and went on from there.  Early the next morning I got up and went to the westernmost point in the lower 48 states, a 6 mile hike all by myself.  Which now I will brag about.  The next post will have pictures of that.