Pacific Northwest – Day 4

Shortly after the moon goes to sleep and while the sun is just returning to wakefulness, there is a calm and quiet in the transition zone between night and day. The city hasn’t stirred yet, but the birds know that this is one of the best times, and we tend to agree with them. To their song of return, we depart Sequim and will have to watch the sunrise in our rearview mirror because we are heading west.

If it’s quiet in the early dawn, it is absolutely still under the blanket of fog. Living in Arizona, we might have an occasion once every four or five years where the valley has a fog layer, but those are rare and short-lived. In these places where the mist is hugging the very surface of the land, it is easy to entertain the idea that the day will be kept at bay, and the intimacy brought by the low ceiling will make the entire day cozy.

We are on the move and heading into the mountains. We are near the entrance gate of Olympic National Park, and much to our surprise, they have started their limited seasonal hours. Lucky us, it’s not too long until the road opens, and not far from where we are waiting is a peek at the kind of forest environment we hope to visit tomorrow when we visit the western side of the park.

This is Hurricane Ridge, and while the peaks are snow-capped, in a few more weeks, there’s a good chance that the entire environment up here will be covered in snow. Should you arrive on one of those snowy days, you’ll have to travel with tire chains, or you will not be allowed passage, or so says the park ranger who reminds us how lucky we are.

The policeman on the side of the road is not here for a sobriety check; he’s recommending that if we can detour or delay our travels, it would be best. Ahead, there is a car that has gone off the road due to the black ice; that is a driving hazard, but for us forward is the only way to go. We go very slow and do our best to be careful.

This bit of fog hadn’t gotten the message that it was time to burn off and instead showed off its perfect reflection in the calm waters of Lake Crescent on Highway 101.

And then we’re deep in the fog again; this seems like it could be a theme today.

This roadside psychic horse was beaming its brain waves at our car as it must have sensed I was traveling with a Caroline who loves horses. It said, “Hey, fellow hairy chin person, bring that sweet-smelling, friendly woman over here and let us connect a moment.” I’m a sucker for telepathy and making my wife and random creatures happy.

On the road to Cape Flattery.

On the footpath to a point out on Cape Flattery that will take us to the end of the trail.

As we reach the ocean, the rocky cliffs and turquoise waters align to show us perfection in which trees, birds, air, and space exist for just this moment, dazzling the observer who is out participating in their life.

We are the farthest out we can go. This is the northwestern edge of the contiguous United States. Behind us are Tatoosh Island and the Cape Flattery Lighthouse. To our left is the Strait of Juan de Fuca in Canada. And we can be here because the people of the Makah Reservation are sharing their lands with us.

Heading back through Neah Bay, there is no other way to make our way down the coast.

Our backtracking worked in our favor as it allowed Caroline to step into the waters of the Strait of Juan de Fuca with Vancouver Island behind her.

Check into our motel early? Not a chance with a tiny bit of available sunlight still available. We drove out to La Push on the Pacific Ocean on the chance we might see a nice sunset.

We never anticipated witnessing one of the most spectacular sunsets we may ever see. Just so you know, this image is made up of half a dozen photos, as it would have been impossible to photograph otherwise. You just can’t take these digital cameras for granted in how they allow us to stitch panoramas together, making up for not owning incredibly expensive cameras and lenses or being limited by the amount of film we have, though memory cards can get expensive.

Dinner was at The In-Place, right next door to our motel, the Pacific Inn.

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