And cue the start of day four… Bail Out Day. The sun was barely up when Vinh and I opened our tent flap to the waves washing ashore. A little oatmeal and hot cocoa warmed us up and off we went, finally figuring it out that starting BEFORE low tide meant that we had double the amount of time to get around headlands. Walking down the beach was an interesting experience after the day before: no elevation changes, but the ground under our feet was constantly changing. Soft sand, hard packed sand, small pebbles, medium pebbles, large round stones, small boulders, large boulders, logs… anything you could think of was included in this 2 mile stretch of beach. It still took longer than we’d have planned to hike, although it was much easier than the day before.
Luckily for us, as we approached Ozette River Vinh’s phone picked up a miraculous signal at the estuary… as sunlight filtered through some sparsely planed trees and the river bubbled along in a wide, shallow ford. I called my Dad and arranged for a drastic change to our rendez-vous plans. Originally, they were to have met us on Saturday at Rialto beach (about 25 miles south of where we were at the time). Now, Vinh and I were going to hike out to the Lake Ozette campground on Friday and snag a site so that Mom & Dad could meet us there. It was a moment where you could almost hear the harps playing and bells ringing.
As we forded the river we’d be afraid would be running far too high after all the rain and came around some extremely beautiful headlands, we finally had some time to look around without worry. The tide pools were chock full of interesting critters and Vinh spent way too much time ogling the mussels and daydreaming about a steaming pot of them as we walked on them (there was no where else to put your foot!). Around one bend, we came to a very large, very shiny rock… or so I thought until the smell caught up to us. Nope, it was in fact some sort of whale or porpoise washed up on the beach. Amazing to see… from a relative distance. Finally we arrived at the biggest let down so far—Cape Alava, the intended campsite for day 2. The tide stretched out before us, across a long stretch of shallow kelp beds. The tide pools must have been wonderful, but the stench drove us inland as fast as we could go. We’d seen so much that was drastically more beautiful that we didn’t need to stay much longer than the time it took to appreciate the barking sea lions and a brief snack break.
Three miles up the boardwalk trail to Lake Ozette and we were back to civilization and FLUSH TOILETS. Campsite snagged, we waited for good old Mom and Dad and cold beer. An evening of stories ensued, followed the next day by a day hike back out the boardwalk to the coast, and then south along the coast to Sand Point, where the beach became sandy and nice once again. The amount of people went from the maybe 25 people we’d seen in passing the other 3½ days to hundreds enjoying the day hike and picnicking opportunities of this stretch. It was a nice little jaunt, and enough of a hike (9miles) to make me allow myself to indeed count this as a 5 day backpacking trip (plus, I didn’t shampoo my hair until I hit home, and that is in fact the definition of “roughing it” for me). Another night dinner with the parents (mmm chili!) and off to bed.
Sunday was not so wonderful as the previous two days. Waking up to rain pouring down, our previously dry tents were hastily stuffed into the car along with everything else, and we drove back up to Neah Bay. Parting ways, the long drive back loomed ahead. Vinh quickly came down with motion sickness and after letting him fall asleep in the front seat I was able to drive the windy roads in the absolute downpour. Thank god for my CD collection. He woke up right before the second round of windy roads at Lake Crescent, and seemed to be getting better as we pulled into Port Angeles. Five minutes after going into a café though, he was back in the car trying not to puke. After I’d eaten something, we sped off to the drugstore for something to help him. Back on the road, I was sure we’d be home in no time until we hit Squim. An accident had closed 101, and we sat there, engine off, for almost 3 hours. Then of course, the ferry traffic was backed up, and all in all, we got back to Seattle 10 hours after leaving the campground.
All in all though, the saddest, craziest, most wonderful part of all of it is… I’d do it again.
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