Washington holds so much beauty within it. It is easy to forget how close one is to all of these outdoor activities. Especially when you grew up in Southern California. There, you are forced to either:

1. drive 5+ hours away to find some solitude within nature or

2. rub shoulders with 100’s of others who are looking to capitalize on the few areas that offer some natural beauty.

Even here in Washington, it is easy to fall in the rut of lingering within the city limits. Seattle has a lot to offer, with its architectural beauty, art installations, and delicious eateries. However, a balance of spices does not reinvigorate my soul. Arches and glass facades do not live within my daydreams. Art does speak to me, but not in the way a babbling brook does. I do not close my eyes and think of visiting Van Gogh’s “The Starry Night.” I dream of the starry nights after a long day of hiking. Of leaning back in a folding chair, drawing warmth from a campfire, as I make my best attempt to identify constellations. No brush stroke will ever match that celestial sight.

It was with this spirit of outdoor observation that my lovely wife was able to plan a weekend out on the Olympic Peninsula. An AirBnB booking and a ferry ride at last light was all it took to put us back into a space of wondrous colors. We cruisied 101 highway, slightly saddened at the fact that we could not see out along the coast, nor around, at what was surely a pretty landscape. Our consolation was that our drive back would be during the daylight hours, so all would be revealed in a few days time.

We soon arrived in Port Angeles, a bit tired and more than peckish. Fortunately, the town had a small gastropub, Next Door, that was open until 2am. Bustling with people, we did have to wait a bit until we were seated. The night air was fresh, the town lit as if we were in a romantic movie, moments away from our chance encounter where we lock eyes and confess our love after time apart.

Super pretty.

Patiently we waited, taking in the scene around us on this small strip of civilization. Soon enough we were sat, and enjoyed an expertly prepared meal that we paired with a few finely brewed drinks. Our environment glimmering around us, we finished our meal and walked back to our car to make the final leg of the journey to the cabin.

Our accommodations were both cozy and warm. After a quick wardrobe change, sleep soon found us.

We rose to a full day’s itinerary. Crescent lake was entered into our GPS, and Spruce Railroad trail lay ahead. A quick stop for coffee helped liven our senses to the journey’s beauty as we wound our way to our destination. Parking was plentiful, despite the fact that there was a marathon of sorts going on that weekend. As we assembled our essentials into our packs, I found a gear casualty. A mouse had nibbled his way into my pack weeks ago, and gorged themselves on a small bag of trail mix.

Not to be petty, but I hope that furry little…I hope it at least got an upset stomach, so it could feel what I was feeling. Pained stomach and bruised pride, I adjusted my pack to compensate and lifted my chin high, defiant of anything souring my time out here. Luckily, my woes were soon washed away as we walked along the trail.

It. Was. Gorgeous.

The first 3 of the 4 pictures in this blog are from our time there. The lake is a must see. Glacially carved, it sits nestled between mountains carpeted in foliage. Hues of green and blue radiate from its depths, glowing in the sunlight. Sharp cliffs, jutting from the water, contrast these bright colors, a matte frame for a glowing picture.

Reaching Devil’s Punch Bowl was our goal. 2.5 miles down the trail, you pass through an old railroad tunnel and immediately veer hard left to find it. We lingered here for a while, I with my fly rod and Nicole her DSLR. Both taking full advantage of our environment, we managed to make the most of our short time here. In a place like this, I do not feel defeated if I do not catch anything. I seek only to be closer to the wildlife around me, and my wish was soon granted. I was treated to a chance encounter with an impressive specimen of rainbow trout. Drawn out from the safety of the lake floor, he pondered my ant imitation, nuzzling it with his nose before retreating once more to the safety below. Nice to meet you, bud.

Saltwater scenes were our next goal. Ruby Beach was a ways away, but we were all about the journey being a part of the fun. Our eyes scanned the horizon, taking in the passing forest. My eyes darted along the creeks and rivers, looking for eddies, current breaks, and bends that may offer shelter for fish.

Hours passed us by in tandem with deciduous trees. Finally, we reached the parking lot. Nicole loaded herself down with tripods and lenses, and I offered my help to aid in her goals. A few steps away was the shoreline of Ruby Beach. Housing rock outcroppings, tide pools, and a gray backdrop, it was definitely a sight for specific tastes.

More specifically, ours.

We could not help but notice the similarities between this place and Iceland’s Reynisfjara. Thankfully, the “knock-you-on-your-backside” wind was absent, and we were able to wander, unimpeded by gale force gusts. Vaulting ourselves over the piles of driftwood, we put soles to sand. Soon we were standing over small tide pools, marveling at anemones of emerald and their visitors: sculpin and starfish.

Treading lightly, we hopped from point to point in an attempt to find more wildlife, seeking shelter from the waves. We looked upon remnants of shellfish, undulating barnacles, and coastal birds surfing the sky.

The day was escaping us, so we packed back up after Nicole decided she had captured enough of the scenery. A long drive back to the cabin was ahead of us. Gracefully, Nicole offered that we break up the trip by stopping at a stretch of river, if I found one suitable for fishing.

I love this woman.

Channeling my inner child, I pressed my face hard against the window, seeking out a bend that I could lay a mend(ed line). As we rounded a corner, a campground sign pointed the way to a boat launch. Jackpot. Soon we were parked, and I sprung out of the car, my hands a flurry of line and feathers, knotting the best lure I could think of onto my rod. I have been unusually lucky with a Royal Wulff lately, so the choice was obvious.

It did not take long to get some results. The area had plenty of pocket water that I could poke at, and I soon had fish in hand. They were quickly sent back to their home, no worse for wear. Patting myself on the back for my resourcefulness, I played around for a half hour until I could no longer track my dry fly.

One day gone, we woke to a new set of destinations. Hurricane Ridge was the first to take the spotlight. After a windy car ride, we stepped out onto a windy mountaintop. It was SO cold. The visitors center was warm, and housed ample information to aid us in making the most of our short stay. We learned about all of the wildlife in the surrounding area, including an interesting story about the presence of mountain goats. They are nonnatives, and overpopulate the region. There have even been fatal attacks where a goat has stood over their victim, preventing aid. If you are interested, there is more info here.

Soon, we left the visitor center and headed towards the trail. Making our way around the peak, we gazed upon the valley below. As we were looking around, we saw a few hikers that were looking excitedly at something off to their left. Shielded by trees, we could not discern what it was. As we rounded the bend, it was made clear. A small family of deer was grazing on the hillside.

The distance was enough that they were not concerned with our presence, and we were able to spend quite some time observing them as they picked at the tall grass. It is always interesting to me that these animals are so well adapted to endure the harsh conditions of this land. We are bundled up, shivering, with only the promise of pristine sights to fuel us as we stare into icy winds and cooling rain. With this in mind, it was also strange to pass by a guy in runners shorts and a windbreaker who apparently did not care that it was about 20 degrees out. Fortunately, his craziness was solely temperature based, and he did us the kindness of taking a photo of us both.

Thank you, beardy iceman.

Winding back down the mountain, we found ourselves back in Crescent lake territory. Both of us were hungry for a bite to eat, and some fermented fun. The scene was a bit more gray, a storm front on its way into the valley.  We enjoyed the change in color palate, waxing philosophical about the meaning of it all. The food was a bit too expensive, but we enjoyed it none the less. Sometimes you are paying for what is around you, not what is in front of you, ya know?

What does it all MEAN?

Another day in the memory banks, we retired to the cabin. Our last day was ahead, and we were to make the most of it. Two wildlife refuges were to be our final sights of the Peninsula.

Dungeness Spit is a National Wildlife Refuge. It is narrow, with one half of it closed off to visitors. One can make the 5 mile hike to the lighthouse if you time the tides correctly. Unfortunately, we did not. Instead, we walked the shore, admiring the unique landscape around us. The tide changed drastically in the short time we were here, and if you take care to note a few markers on the shore, I am sure you will be surprised at how much your surroundings will change from one moment to the next.

I have always enjoyed how a field of driftwood logs can turn a sandy shoreline into a abstract masterpiece. Changed by the ravages of time (and sand) the grooved logs jut out of the ground, unwilling to disappear without a struggle. Walking on top of them, acrobats on wooden tightropes, we wandered around the shore. In the distance, the lighthouse beckoned us forth.

Another time.

Our second stop was the Olympic Game Farm. Within its walls are various animals, of all shapes and sizes. Upon arriving, you sign a disclaimer. Basically, these animals can damage your car if you are not careful. Also, only feed them approved food (wheat bread is sold at the gate). Violating this rule makes you guilty of violating federal law.

The first group of animals we visited were the llamas. They are held within their space by a cattle grate, and we made the mistake of not getting far enough into the enclosure before we stopped. Therefore, we were blocked in by a huge herd of llamas. You may not know this about llamas, but their breath is absolutely FOUL. So, once the novelty of feeding them wore off, we started to feel like hostages in our own car, being assaulted by gaseous death being blown into our faces. To break ourselves free, we started using slices of bread like frisbees to draw the herd away. Our tactic worked, and we made our way to the next enclosure.

What is black, white, and far better than your average horse? Zebras! I know that this does not look like the most welcoming sight, but these zebras were gentle. This face was so that you could hand them bread without being accidentally bitten. We were able to pet them (and their breath was way better). In addition to the zebras, there were small yaks who trotted up to our car for a bite to eat. They seemed aware of their horns, and did not scrape our car as we handed them bread.

The next enclosure took us by surprise. We knew that they were here, but we thought that these animals would be behind something a bit more stout to hold them back. Nope. Just a low fence to keep them back from the perimeter. They rolled around, basking in the sunlight. Once they became aware of our presence, they sat facing us, eyes fixed on the treat within our hands.

We could bearly contain our joy. Waving to us with their giant paws, they knew all the tricks to get us to part with our bread. Two of the younger ones were actively chasing one another before we drove up, and once they saw us they barreled through a muddy pond to get close enough to catch a few slices.

Not wanting to miss any of the parks attractions, we headed over to the last two major enclosures. We had been warned about these ones specifically, because the animals within are known to destroy vehicles. Not by being violent, but purely as a consequence of their great size and eagerness to get bread.

The elk and buffalo.

The first enclosure actually housed two major animals. Fawn deer immediately ran over to our car, excited at the chance to get some treats from us. They were exceptionally gentle, and it was easy to lose oneself in their eyes as you bonded with them during their snacktime. Do not forget the warnings. This is also the enclosure that has lumbering buffalo. Every step they take toward your car multiplies their size. Huge beasts, the one we fed had a head that barely fit through our car window. It was not easy to time out this encounter, because you obviously do not want to sacrifice your car to feed a buffalo. Therefore, we had to make a few passes through before we were able to time out the buffalo’s stride so that we could be near it, without it crumpling our car like a piece of paper.

Awe, look at that face

LOOK AT THAT FACE!

The second enclosure presented a different challenge. You see, buffalo are slow. They move at a steady, metered pace.

Elk will rush you like it is Black Friday and you are a price slashed flatscreen tv.

I can either TAKE that bread, or you can GIVE it to me willingly

The moment we entered the enclosure, the youths of the herd were running full tilt towards us. I had to burn rubber and break the posted speed limit to prevent casualty to our car. The second time around, we were able to create enough distance by throwing some bread, which held them off long enough to get some good views of these majestic creatures.

After spending a few hours here, and exhausting our supply of bread, we found ourselves back on the road towards home. The whole experience was well worth the time and effort. Most of our time was spent solely with nature around us. There was plenty of space between ourselves and the other patrons of this paradise. We were not crowded, nor were we robbed of any of the intimacy of nature.

This is one of countless places in Washington where you can spend time surrounded by nature.

We look forward to the year ahead of us, and the new discoveries we are sure to make.

All the best from us both.

buh bye…