Portland and Olympic Nationa Park

Following the few days in Mt. Baker National Forest, I headed south towards Oregon City to spend some time with my Uncle Nick and Aunt Mona.  So nice of them to take in a vagabond such as myself.  They, along with their friend Lois, played tour guide showing me around the Portland area and giving me history lessons during the drive.  All three know so much about the area that every turn and every corner had a different story associated with it.  

Located in Portland's West Hills, Pittock Mansion is situated high over the city, with Mt. St. Helens and Mt. Rainier visible on clear days.  So, to save myself some typing here, I'll link you to the wikipedia page.  You were probably going to head there anyways, right?  Yep.  For more interesting tidbits, the mansion is listed as a haunted location.  Scroll down to the manifestations part of the page if you dare. The mansion itself is pretty incredible and the grounds are spectacular.  Everything in manicured in such a way that it's hard not to feel old world money at work and the formality of the early 1900's.  According to Lois, Henry Pittock would ride his bike too and from work.  Sitting at an elevation of near 900 feet, Henry must have had either legs of steel or someone pick to him up after his working day.  Top that Portland fixie riders.

The International Rose Test Garden was the next impromptu tour stop.  Stairs descend down into the garden's heart with the sweet smell of roses wafting up the steps, pulling you in.  Along with roses of every variety and color in bloom, the garden can also boast itself the oldest continuous rose testing program of its kind in the United States.

Moving back north, Olympic National Park on Washington's west coast was my next stop.  I was greeted by an empty beach, a light misting rain moving in off the Pacific and gray wispy clouds blurring the line between ocean and sky.  Had some time to cook diner right on the beach.  Rice, beans, broccoli, and some salsa hit the spot with a nice cup of coffee (I expect royalties here Jamie...).  Dreary as it may look, this was some of the nicest weather I saw the entire week.  The benefit of the off season is no one is around, but no one is around for a reason, you get soaked.  I might as well have dumped a bucket of water on myself before each hike.  

Day two greeted me with spotty sun in the morning, sucker holes as they are called, only to turn out the sun in the afternoon and bring on the downpours.  I started hiking around 1pm  from Ozette Campground and by 2pm, my rain gear was soaked through and my backpack had an additional few pounds of water weight added.  It felt like I had sponges for shoes fro the squishy feel and sound of each step.  Emerging from the woods onto Sand Point Beach, the ocean had deposited layer upon layer of kelp, as if rejecting it like a child rejects theirs greens back onto their plate after a disdained bite.  

A much harder coast line of jagged rock and cobble made progress slow to my overland crossings.  A wind also picked up blowing to the north which chilled my rain soaked body.  Movement kept me warm but any stopping immediately invited the cold to my skin.  I had packed extra layers into a trash bag but this was not enough to keep out the moisture.  It find every nook and opening.  Seagulls and other coastal birds did not seemed bothered by the weather and were flocking to the low tidal pools for food.  

Hiking on the coast brings tidal fluctuation to planning a hike.  I had arrived at the beach as the tide was at it lowest point, allowing me to skip overland crossings usually required.  Typically, overland crossings are marked by red and back disks sectioned into four quadrants of alternating color.  Think of a pizza cut into four slices.  This disc is prominently displayed on a high pole or tree trunk along with being marked on a map.  Despite this however, I missed my reentry point onto the forest trail by a long shot.  I had been keeping track of time as not to get caught by the tide and was getting concerned when I had not passed my point after two hours on the beach.  It is a three mile stretch and should have easily been hiked in under tow hours.  I checked and rechecked the map, looked for landmarks and retraced my steps.  I tried to keep my head on straight but with darkness starting to approach and the wind strengthening, the thought of hunkering down in the woods until low tide did not sound appealing in the least.  I decided to start retracing my steps feeling confident I could make it back to my original forest exit point before the tide cut me off.  I kept my eyes peeled too for any signs of a trail, convinced I couldn't have missed such a prominent sign.  A mile into retracing my steps, I noticed a weathered piece of rope dangling partially hidden from a tree branch and popped up to check.  About ten feet into the forest, I found the overland crossing sign, blown down by the wind and flipped upside down.  Oops.  As darkness fell quickly in the dense forest, I booked it the 3.5 miles back to my car and arrived just before dark cold, cranky, and ready for some warm blankets and dry clothing.  

I passed a man on the way to my car who was looking at the trail map and caught me to ask a few questions.  He was safely under an umbrella after having just emerged from a warm running car, and didn't seem to realize that I was basically a wet dog looking to get inside.  I kept trying to hint I needed to get to my car and he just wanted to tell me about his road trip and all the nice weather he had.  Finally, I had to stop him.  "I need to go.  I'm cold," was all I could blurt out in my unhappy state.  He finally got the hint and got back into his warm car to circle the campground a few times looking for a spot.  I popped the hatch to my car, stripped off all my wet clothing and wrapped myself in every warm blanket I had while I boiled some water for tea and oatmeal.  Oh how just warmth is so appreciated after being cold and wet for a few hours.  So simple but I was in a pure blissed out state.

The following morning, I woke up early to try and beat afternoon showers.  I donned my still soaking clothing and headed back for Cape Alava, yesterday's beach exit point.  Again I had the trail to myself and quickly made it to the beach and emerged into sun.  Deer were grazing behind me, just staring out into the ocean, not even blinking an eye at me.  I spent some time walking the beach and investigating camping areas before heading back into the woods to hopefully beat the impending afternoon rains.  The picture appears to be pure sun, but a thick clouded line was quickly approaching.  The sun closed out for the day maybe an hour after arriving on the beach at 8 a.m.  Returning on the forested trail, I met a man and wife in their 60's hiking duo who had camped the night before.  Joining their party for about 20 minutes, I hiked between the two of them sharing stories and just enjoying a little company.  They let me pass and I continued on the trail reaching the parking area.  Firing up the stove for a post hike egg scramble breakfast.  My hiking pals arrived just as I wrapped up breakfast, giving me their phone numbers and telling me not to be a stranger if I headed further north in Washington.

Rain rolled in again that afternoon and I decided to hunker down in the car for the afternoon and catch up on some reading and yoga during slight breaks in the downpour.  Just before dark, the rain broke again and I squeezed in a quick dinner before returning to my book and falling asleep shortly after.  Being so cold the day before really took it out of me.  Waking to more rain in the morning, I decided to move to another location in the park to see if I could dodge the weather.  I traveled further north along the coast, reaching Cape Flattery, Washington's furthest north west location.  The drive was spectacular as I left early enough to catch the sun rising over Olympic's northern coast line and also avoid the afternoon rains for quick hike along Cape Flattery's incredibly jagged ocean front.

  My original plan for my remaining three days in Olympic were to backpack along the coast from Shi Shi beach but this idea was quickly forgotten thanks to soaked gear my first day that refused to dry.  Everything I owned by this point was wet to some degree and the thought of taking damp gear into afternoon downpours didn't seem fun.  I retraced the road from Cape Flattery with a rainbow riding as my passenger the entire drive.  I have never seen a full pronounced rainbow move.  The colors tracked over the calm ocean seeming to jut into the inlets and expand as the ocean opened up.  

Deciding the coast was a bust weather wise, I headed back south into the interior of Olympic stopping along the way to camp one last time on the coast.  This could have been a mistake however as the wind was blowing with all its strength.  Trees bent in half around me and limbs clattered together like an applauding audience.  I decided it would be smart to move to a tree free location and avoid any windfall widow makers.  

The morning greeted me again with a little sun and a a calm that didn't seem possible after the evenings torrent of wind.  I snuck out of the campground early and popped the hatch to make breakfast overlooking the ocean. My final hike in Olympic was in the Hoh Rain Forest section of the park with a quick stop into the Hall of Mosses trail.  Again, it was a downpour but by now I had just embraced it and wore only my rain gear with water shoes just accepting my fate of getting wet.  No one else on the trail again and I got to enjoy the soaring moss covered trees with only the soft patter of rain making its way through the dense canopy to the forest floor.  So, a little game here.  Take a close look at the photo to the left.  A "Where's Waldo" if you will.  Nice huh?  

After one more rain filled evening at Olympic, I was ready for a change and pointed it again south.  Olympic, you can be a fickle mistress in October but I feel I passed the test.  The trails were empty, the skies wet, and I can't wait to come back.