olympic meanderings

last weekend, i embarked on my annual Olympic Peninsula birthday expedition. my plan this time was tidepooling at Tongue Point, as always, and then trek in to the Olympic Hot Springs for a soak.

i had checked the weather reports for my destination - lots of rain. but i failed to check points in between. it was snowing wet, sloppy snow in Tacoma when i left at 9 am Sunday. by the time i passed over the Narrows bridge it was full-on Winter Wonderland. the roads weren't bad, a little slick. but as few here know how to drive in the snow, there were loads of cars on the side of the road. the pace was excruciatingly slow. i was text messaging while driving and bellowing country songs besides. but i know how to drive in the snow. the snow continued as i crossed into the Olympic Peninsula proper. around Port Townsend (top right of peninsula), the conditions were a little scary. two tire treads with snow piled on either side and in the middle. fishtailing a little. no text messaging. as i passed over Jimmycomelately Creek i realized i had forgotten my hiking boots. bad news. weather in Sequim was disgustingly sunny. right before Port Angeles (top center of peninsula) it began to rain.

the trip from Port Angles to Tongue Point (about 25 minutes west) was beautiful. fog clung to the mountains' midriff and snow dusted the peaks. horses steamed in the rain. i was delayed because of the slow traffic. but i was arriving just at the low tide peak. i was terribly excited when i pulled up. no cars! except people "camping" in RVs. i suited up in rain gear and camo poncho and took to my favorite stretch of coast.

i didn't see anything mind-blowing. because i've been to this site so much, a lot of the extraordinary things seem normal. my camera sucks. so i only got landscape shots, no close-ups of sea creatures. there were a lot of sponges this time. sponges are cool. a fair share of black katy chitons, as ever. chitons are crazy armored mollusks that remind me of trilobites. the black katy variety are cool and creepy, looking both menacing and ancient. lots of anemones. no urchins. strange. saw a pacific blood star, which is wicked. also saw lots of my favorite kelp, seersucker. new things i hadn't seen before were several kinds of dogwinkle snails and sea palms. the latter are usually only viewable during really low tides. i know. it's cruel of me to talk of such things without photographic evidence. i will have a new camera by my next adventure.

now we come to the somewhat scary part. let me set the scene. i am out tidepooling on rocky promontories over the Strait of Juan de Fuca. it is low tide so it is slick with life. i'm an hour from the "beach" entrance. two kayakers are the only humans i see. and they were snotty. no one knows exactly where i am. cell phones don't work out here. i am standing to take a picture of a sea star. next thing i know, i am slammed down, on my back, under water. i'm not in the ocean proper, but a channel in the rocks. i'm under water, my bag is under water, my camera is under water. it was less than a minute. i was in no danger of drowning. but it was still scary. i got cut in two places through three layers of clothing. hi mom! i have a bruise covering most of my right forearm that continues to form. at first the bruise looked like a sea urchin. if i was seriously injured, i would have been fighting the tide. at Tongue Point, you're always slipping and falling, it's what happens. but i haven't ever taken such a nasty fall.

so, battered, self-confidence shattered, i continued to tidepool until i was blocked. then i turned around and tentatively leapt back rock by rock until i was finally at the entrance. as i started to take off my wet things, five cars drove up. five. glad they came after i was done. but..learn how to read a tide table, people. i picked out my campsite in the more rustic campground. although, i slept in my van.

since i was battered, i thought the best thing to do would be to hike up a mountain. in dress shoes. my tidepooling shoes were out of the question. the start of the Striped Peak trail is in the same park i tidepool in. i've hiked as far as Hidden Cove, which is beautiful. i had decided to do that previous hike at dusk. that meant i was partially crawling back to the park as part of the trail is on a bluff over the ocean. smart! endeavoring not to repeat that mistake, i made sure to not check what time it was or how long the hike was. in dress shoes. it's a nice hike with no human sounds audible. just the surf and the wind through the trees. only one spectacular view. but still a great hike. it's a total elevation gain of 850 feet, i now know. not knowing what time it was or how long i had to traverse, i booked it. didn't even puke. parts of the trail were extremely muddy and uphill. with my wide-soled shoes, it was like walking up an oiled slip-n-slide. i was walking on all fours some of the way. i fashioned a walking stick out of a freezing cold, wet branch. did i mention it was raining? that helped a little. once i got past the middle part of the trail, there was less mud. i still can't believe the insane pace i kept. as i summited, it's one of those trails. where you come to the end and realize that any asshole could drive up here on a shitty road. a little disheartening. the view was mediocre. but i'm sure at night, looking over at Victoria, it is grand.

on my way down, i began to lustily sing Appalachian ballads. no one was about, so i sang more and more loudly. i had just finished a whore ballad and was in the middle of a tragic tale of woe when a dog and his man appeared. i nodded congenially as if i wasn't singing about killing people and waiting an appropriate distance before i started my renderings again. by this time it was almost dusk. i got back to my van and made my bed. i was one of two people staying the night in the entire park, the other in the RV section. i lay down with my wet items on either side and fell asleep immediately. i woke up in the middle of the night cold and in need of a pee. the stars outside were so brilliant they burned my retinas. the glow of Victoria, Canadia in the distance complemented the roaring surf. i decided to read for a bit. i had book club in two days and hadn't started 'Speak' by Laurie Halse Anderson. the experience reminded me of the last time i was in my van reading by flashlight. that was 'Twilight', well before the craze hit. i was going to Forks the next day. so i thought it was appropriate. i ended up finishing half of 'Speak'.

by morning, i was the only one in the entire park. i decided to walk out onto Tongue Point proper, which i'd never done. it was two hours before low tide. Tongue Point is volcanic rock that reminds me of the coal candy of my youth. there's not as much life as the other beach. but still a beautiful, sunny walk. the seagulls screamed at me as did the exceedingly shrill black oystercatchers. the best thing i saw was what i can only assume is a crazy sea cucumber of some sort. it was highly engorged and had some weird things protruding from it. not like any sea cucumber i have seen before. i prodded it, but it didn't reveal its secrets.

i had planned to hike into the Olympic Hot Springs. but my inappropriate footwear effectively cancelled this hike through the mud and snow. plus, if others were present, it would be embarrassing to disrobe as i had brown feet (stained from my shoes) and a golden knee and calves (from Tiger Balm).

instead, i decided to meander. i hit the Port Angeles thrift stores, which had previously been good to me. nothing. i made a split decision to go to the Dungeness Spit. i couldn't resist turning on Kitchen-Dick Road and then Voice of America Road. there were lots of people on my walk down there. but the spit itself was abandoned. the packed sand leaves little substrate for sea life. but it was a beautiful and, unfortunately, sunny walk. i started singing English ballads, but then moved on to country songs. as there was no one about, i began to bellow. i saw only a couple of people. after about an hour i realized it would be another hour before i reached the lighthouse. so i wearily trudged back to my car. next stop was Sequim (pronounced squim), a city i do not comprehend. the only thing i liked was Sequim Gym, and only because of the name. Port Townsend thrift stores also snubbed me. i was going to stop in Poulsbo, but i missed the exit.

by the time i got home i was thoroughly exhausted. makes me wonder why i take these trips. they're not relaxing. but i do love me some nature. and i truly needed to get away. who wants to play with me next time?