Camping and Hiking

After our romantic and exciting ferry ride, we hopped in the car and drove west for several hours.  I fell asleep - I'm that fun.  When I woke up, we were approaching Ozette Lake, near the western shore of the peninsula.  I made this little old map to clarify our travels, and you can move the map and zoom in to see our first campsite, on the shores of the lake.

View Seattle 2010 in a larger map

We don't have any pictures to commemorate setting up the tents in the dark or trying unsuccessfully to start a fire with wet wood.  My prevailing memory is waking up to the sound of rain mercilessly pelting our tent.  Later, as Matt and I stood in the pouring rain, folding up the tent and tucking it away, I asked him if we were seriously going to sleep in this wet tent the following night.  He assured me that not only would we sleep in it, we would carry it on our backs to the next campsite.  

I could hardly contain my joy.

Here we are eating our breakfast of bratwurst.  The McDonalds bag housed all of our ketchup and salt packets . . . until it got wet and the bottom fell out.  I am sporting my $10 rain suit.  The rangers really thought I was tough with that on.  The rangers made us rent a BEAR CAN to store all of our food and other smelly stuff in - like toothpaste and deodorant.  That was comforting.


Then, we loaded up our packs, parked the car, and started hiking.  The trail was well established and either covered in gravel or wood planks the entire three miles.  This was necessary because the rain forest was so full of life and undergrowth that it would've covered the trail in no time otherwise.  For long stretches there was absolutely no opportunity to get off the trail, as the underbrush was so thick.  Every surface was covered with life - moss, algae, mushrooms, and whatever else grows in such a fashion.  It was beautiful and eerie, void of animals and even birds.

Fortunately the rain stopped soon after we started walking and we made the hike in uneventfully.  We reached our campsite for a lunch of peanut butter and banana chip sandwiches (somehow we forgot to pack jelly) and, as we were the only people there, had our pick of the sites.  We picked one sheltered by trees but with a beautiful view of the coast.

Matt learned in Kenya that a Masai blanket is essential to camping, and you can see ours drying from the tree above.  We were also attempting to dry out our tent, sans rain fly, until the wind lifted it up and threatened to toss it in the ocean.  First lesson of camping, "Stake your tent!", as yelled by Glenn as he chased our tent down the beach.


After staking our claim and setting up camp, we had to explore the beach.  The boys grabbed a net to catch some fish with (?!) and we headed down the sand.

Here, Glenn is whipping around a giant piece of seaweed and Matt is trying to jump over it.

Here the boys are chasing away the seagulls.  

The guys scampered out to the island and around its perimeter in search of fish in the tidepools.  Jess and I stopped by the sign that said "Do not climb on the island, it is sacred to the Ozette people."  We're respectful like that.  

This is a very flattering shot of me.  I look like Hobo Joe.

After our unsuccessful fishing trip, we were cold and wet.  Although it had stopped raining, the misty air combined with the wind blowing up water from the ocean meant that our pants were soaked through.  Matt and Glenn had gathered wood and set up a tarp earlier in the day, and they sat down to work on a fire.  

And work.

And work.

It began to look hopeless and I promise I sat there and prayed for 20 minutes that God would bless us with a bit of flame, because I was pretty sure that if I couldn't get warm, I'd be a goner.  

Halleluiah, finally, a fire!

The hardest-earned fire in the West.

We had couscous and hotdogs for dinner and slept peacefully.  Our bear cans were untouched in the morning.

The deer, however, were not dissuaded by our presence.  After slowly creeping up on a fawn and its mother, we realized that the deer didn't care one bit what we were doing.  

We packed up, said goodbye to Camp Alava, and somebody had the desire to hike three miles down the coast to another trail, and then hike three miles back through the rainforest.  We suited up and headed out.


There were fallen trees as far as we could see strewn across the beach, with piles of smelly seaweed preventing us from going around on one side, and the rising forest on the other.  It was over or under, and with giant backpacks on, our progress was slow.

After 100 yards, we turned around.


I wasn't complaining.

A bridge we crossed near the ranger station was covered in hairy moss.  I'm telling you, everything is alive out there!

Our trip back took less time than our trip out, and at the end was the reward of lunch, a dry car, and the returning of the bear cans.  Two nights down, and we were feeling pretty good.