Part 5: Olympic
Continuing a journey through Washington State.
That night, my mind only found rest for a few hours – if that at all. Every so often I would wake from my sedated and uneasy slumber, half expecting to see the blurry figure of a mountain lion lurking outside of my shelter. But it never showed, and I woke up that next morning relieved. There was a small part of me, however, that wanted to see it. To encounter something like that, although terrifying, seems like it would make a man feel more alive (and dead if they’re unlucky) than anything someone could experience.
In the early morning light, I gathered some gear and booked it down to Beach #4. My friend, Kyle insisted that I make it down to the shore early to catch the low tide, so I took heed of his advice. I arrived around 6:30 to see the tide so far out, it would have taken me quite a while to walk out to the water’s edge. Tide pools scattered across the beach became the temporary home for some sea life. Anemones and star fish desperately clung to the rocks that they partied on the night before the sea left them hanging high and dry. Barnacles and snails didn’t seem to complain. But for this Mississippi boy, it was a sight to behold. I explored the exposed rocks and greeted their short-term tenants for a while. The tide began its slow march back to reclaim its territory. I departed before I joined my new friends from “under the sea”.
After cleaning, journaling, and packing up, I left the shelter site and headed to the next campsite in Forks, Washington (home of some popular vampires). The campground called Three Rivers Resort was a private RV Park and campground with a store and restaurant. My neighbors were a young couple from South Carolina that sold their house and hit the road in an RV for several months to travel the whole country. To say I was jealous of them would be an understatement. Once I told them my life story, I went out in search of some wildlife to photograph. Unfortunately, I did not encounter any wildlife, but what I did find might have been just as amazing.
I drove down to First Beach. It was in a town called La Push, home of the Quileute Tribe which is a Sovereign Nation. I tried my best to not look like a complete fool and be a bother to anyone. As I was nearing the town, an eerie fog began to roll in from the sea. The quiet town made it seem even stranger. It felt like I was at the edge of heaven and God did not want me to see in quite yet. While he may not have wanted me to see in, his disguise was beautiful on its own. Shadows of massive islands of rock, held sacred to the tribe, loomed through the dense fog. Everything seemed frozen during that short period of time.
I snapped as many photos as I could then headed on back to camp.
As I ate my dinner and threw back a little wine that night, I sat in my hammock and thought about how something as simple as some fog could completely change my evening. The wind swayed the cedars and hemlocks as they lulled me to sleep. As a quick slight rain rolled in and forced me back to my tent, it dawned on me that my trip was actually coming to an end. But it wasn’t over quite yet. I was in for one last true experience of the Pacific Northwest.
