Whelan on Walkabout in Washington - Olympic National Forest
When I worked with the cabin owners at Huntington Lake, Sierra National Forest, I would hear their stories about their cabin being passed down for generations. They would talk about how they met there, who was who at the lake, who had which cabin and what they did to it over the years. The would tell nostalgic stories about "Thirty years ago, when I came up here for the summer, I would hike, or swim, or boat or meet people at the cabin for a holiday party. Their cabin was their old friend.
They were very nice stories and I would listen to them thinking about my parents. My family could never dream of buying a little cabin in the woods. But what they did own then, and what we own now is public land. We all have our old friends the National Forests and National Parks.
After the stress and anxiety of moving to Washington, it came as no surprise that my first day-trip was to the Olympic National Forest and the Olympic National Park. A visit to a new old friend.
Rain Forest Nature Trail - Old Forest
The simplicity of taking a short walk through a tunnel of life - tall, dense, growing, green, natural, perfect in its own way, connected in time, space and experience. This nature trail is short, flat and perfect for close up interaction with the temperate rain forest. Everywhere you look, everything you see is covered with green life. The old dead support new life. Green on green is the color scheme with no place to rest your eye. It is a friendly visual assault. Like a giant vegetative hug, it walks up to you and you can't help to hug it back, and love it back. We are visiting on a clear sunny day and everything seems to be shouting "The sun is shining! Quick soak it up while you can. Soon we will be bathing in rain."
World's Record Sitka Spruce - Old Tree How can you not love a very large and very old tree? I would just go crazy when people jumped the fence to take a selfie on the roots of giant sequoia trees. While in Cambodia I was disappointed to learn that platforms were needed to keep selfie seekers from stomping the roots of the strangler fig tree featured in the Laura Croft Tomb Raider movie. Unfortunately, fame comes at a cost.
I found the very same people taking selfies on the roots of this amazing sitka spruce. I did speak to the tree and told it "hang in there big boy. We love you. " Then I took my selfie by the sign in the parking lot, away from my new old friend's trampled roots.
Lake Quinault Lodge - Old Lodge
A historic gathering place that is still loved and cared about. Unlike my previous experience with resorts under special use permit from the US Forest Service, Lake Quinault Lodge is well managed, well maintained and continues to create memorable experiences. It was stylish with the look and feel of old historic Park lodges.
"Built in 1926 and styled after Old Faithful Inn in Yellowstone and Sun Valley Lodge in Idaho, the Lake Quinault Lodge reflects the spirit of a bygone era. This cozy getaway offers a serene retreat from the pressures of the outside world."
We casually enjoyed our beers with lunch on the outdoor patio overlooking the lake. While visitors sat on the lawn, we speculated about staying at the lodge when the weather is more representative of the temperate rain forest. "If the room had a fireplace and a good book, this could be a fun place even in the dead of a rainy winter."
South Shore Drive/North Shore Drive - Old Drive
Still one of my favorite activities - taking a drive exploring new roads in the forest. Up stream along the river, there are few cars on the drive as we weave back and forth from gravel to pavement, from one lane to two lanes, from open views through caves of moss covered maples. The forest reaches above and beyond. The trees are so tight, maybe they are blocking out the cell phone service protecting us from thoughts of the outside world?
Olympic National Park Beaches - Old Friend
I can't resist a visit to the beach. Olympic National Park has beautiful long, wild, and cool beaches that stretch as far as I can see. There are footsteps in the sand, but no one is around. Even the names "Beach One" and "Beach Two" are simple and unassuming as if to not clutter the space with expectations. "This is all there is" says the waves as they roll without regard to me or anyone else in the world. How may years have they been doing this without notice? Beaches are prehistoric relics alive today and hopefully forever.
I'm still trying to get back to my old self in my new environment. I'm having a bit of writer's block and I want to thank you for reading my blog.