While in Pacific Beach, we discovered that our full-hookup Navy MWR facility had strong, fast WIFI. We made use of Roxie’s built-in high gain router to put all of our devices online. We were so immersed that in no time we were signing up for Showtime free trials and binging Homeland. Back at full-hookup Joint Base, we discovered the base library with its enormous collection of DVDs. We were heads-down in the Pacific Northwest, addicted to easy electricity, water and WIFI. We knew we needed to unplug.
Olympic dreams
It was time to finally leave the spring temps of the northwest but 100+ cross country temps changed our minds. Sheltering in a sixty degree place with one last trek to the Olympic peninsula to visit the #1 Olympic National Park Visitor Center, Hurricane Ridge was a no-brainer. To break our sedentary-life addiction, we would look to cut the power, water, and internet cable and dry out. The top o’ the Olympic peninsula would be the perfect partner for a back to basics unplugged retreat.
It helped that the Olympic peninsula is not on the way to anywhere. You go there for a specific purpose: to hike the newly paved Hurricane Hill or gamble at the Elwah River Casino. The Olympic mountains, while not towering like Rainier, are imposing enough to make interior exploration suitable for only back packers. The city of Aberdeen services the west side Pacific inlet at Grays Harbor while Port Angeles hosts the northern shipping traffic coming through the Strait of Juan De Fuca. Both population centers are all function and little art. Hard working cranes off load cargo onto busy rail cars. Tall cedar begins its journey toward becoming a stylish deck in the Carolinas.
Salt Creek blue
Fifteen miles outside of Port Angeles, the Salt Creek Clallum County park hugs the strait, offering 30 first-come, first-serve sites intermixed with 50 reservables. We arrived mid-week, rolling the dice that we would land a site. True to form, reservation fakers had left quite a few “reservable” sites empty – never to be filled – and the premier FCFS sites with 30 amp power and water were chock full. We didn’t want them anyway.
Eric squeezed Roxie in to a basic site nestled in the woods with the tenters and parked boss in an “extra vehicle” site. Roxie drew a few stares with her solar panels deployed to catch what sun passed through the tall pines. Either our tent camping neighbors had cornered the market on wet pine, or perhaps they were attempting to obscure the large rolling condo in their midst with thick smoke. In any case, we were happy the temperatures at night were cold so that we could create a windows-closed breathable environment for sleeping.
In addition to having a love for smoking wet wood, the local crowd at the county park are also boisterous and perhaps a little ill prepared. Backyard sleep-over tents holding Barbie bags better suited for sunny and seventy fill many sites as temperatures during the night dip into the forties resulting in kids crying, dogs barking and pick-up trucks roaring to life to find warmth. When the morning the sun rises, it’s all good again – smoke on.
Hurricane Hill
Using Salt Creek as our base, we pushed into the interior of the peninsula to Olympic National Park. The Hurricane Ridge visitor center draws the most people each year and the park road takes visitors 17 miles up 5,500 feet from the coast to panoramic vistas on the ridge. We hiked the perfectly tarred Hurricane Hill trail to the summit, taking in very distant views of the Strait of Juan de Fuca to the north and Mount Olympus to the south.
Only National Parks put in 10 feet wide paved access “trails” that extend for nearly two miles to climb nearly 1000 feet, taking its “access for everyone” mandate seriously. After 3 years of construction, babies in strollers and rambunctious 8 year olds are introduced to the magic of the Olympic wilderness and what it feels like to walk 2 miles uphill. The magic may have been lost on the boys we overheard chatting about inventing a time machine that would take them back to a birthday party they attended last weekend and then never having to hike this trail.
Obstruction Point, unobstructed
Up in the Alpine region, the wild flowers were in bloom for the short but sweet summer. Black tailed deer and some kind of grouse roamed around pretty much oblivious to us visitors. The vista was 360 degrees but our eyes were denied Mount Olympus grandeur by a nearby ridge. Fortunately, a 4WD road lead us to Obstruction Point for an unobstructed view. We are really getting into this off-roading; it’s a hold your breath and don’t look down thing.
Low Tide exploring
Back at Salt Creek, the tide pools are filled with life. The Strait of Juan de Fuca was Sheri’s 2012 nemesis of as it ushered big waves from the Pacific into the Puget Sound, rocking the high-speed ferry from Seattle to Victoria on a nausea induced, bowl hugging crossing. Now waves from the same body of water crashed onto the shoreline suitable for a Nat-Geo level bio-sphere series. We jumped between jagged cut your leg and slick, smooth, rounded rocks, eyeballing mussels, snails, kelp and green squishies with pink hair. We watched a painter watercolor a stack, retreating to the precarious access stairs when the tide came in. There was a WWII coastal defense system installation(Camp Hayden) and a killer sunset. Set up for a no-amenity stay, we spent four relaxed days in primitive mode, living an Olympic coastal life time.
Biking Port Angeles
Exploring Port Angeles was easy on the 140 mile ODT – Olympic Discovery Trail. An ample parking lot behind some cotton weeds put us on the trail to the hard-working port city with more breweries than grocery stores. Then again, who says a brewery can’t be your grocery store, especially when it’s Barhops Brewery with homemade sourdough crust pizza fired in an 800 degree oven?
The optimistically named Hollywood Beach failed to attract any movie stars but the One of A Kind Art Gallery at the Wharf drew tourists looking for tangible expressions of local authenticity. Eric watched the dockhands work the ropes while Sheri explored the co-op, filled with spinners making yarn from dog hair and artisans waxing surf art. Throughout the ride, we stayed wrapped in fleece while locals stripped down to short sleeves and swim suits, evidence that 60 for Olympic locals is 90 for everyone else in America.
Creative pursuits
The beauty of the Olympic peninsula is that it is largely undiscovered by anyone outside Washington State. Starbucks and Microsoft may be big business in Seattle and Redmond, but none of that high-tech hype is hanging out on the peninsula. Logging reigns as the premier industry. Boats with twin motors and weather-protected cabs go fishing out of Ediz Hook. Artists create driftwood sculpture to spark imagination.
A few tourists stop by the Visitor Center kiosk in August, but the place largely retains its lost in time feeling. Some days you feel like you could happily disappear into the peninsula, never to drive a freeway again. While the rest of the country suffers under a heat wave, did we mention we bask in the sun on a 70 degree day? It’s still unreal to us. Tall cedars wave overhead. The crystal clear surf crashes onto the coastline while the snow capped Olympic mountains watch like a silent sentinel. It makes you seriously consider if 9 months of hibernation might be worth it.
