We headed to the Olympic Peninsula last weekend to cross off a highly anticipated task from our new-Washing-resident-to-do list. The trip was ill-fated from the beginning, though. We pulled up to the ferry terminal to catch the 8:35am boat, but when it was time to board, Lady Starship shit the bed and refused to start. The lines of cars begrudgingly drove around us, boarded, and left us behind--and we sat there with our heads in our hands, whispering profanities at this 1984 vehicle that we love. I tried to tell Lady Starship that I wasn't mad at her--just disappointed.
We finally got her up and running but opted to take her to a mechanic rather than risk stalling on the boat. Mitch took me home to put all of the food back in the fridge, but kept the van running in case Starship didn't have another start in her. I ran down the hall, 4 bags of groceries precariously balanced against my chin, and of course--the grocery bag with the eggs quite literally exploded open, leaving a dozen eggs smashed on the carpet, yolk dripping, and my sanity waning. I picked it all up, kicked the plastic container of cheap deli meat down the hallway, into the elevator, out of the elevator, and into our condo. When I finally made it back to the puttering van, I broke down and sobbed, and then once I could breathe again--laughed hysterically and told Mitch "Our life is a cartoon right now."
The TL;DR of it all is that the mechanic tweaked some shit, and she ran fine the rest of the trip. We made it in one piece, and even though a campground was nearly impossible to find that first night, we were mostly just glad we made it at all, food in our bellies and adventurous spirits in tow. We drove past Lake Crescent, camped at Bear Creek, and hit up Sol Duc Falls and the Hoh Rainforest in the morning. The insufferable Washington heat wave left the rainforest far from rainforesty, but we had fun despite the 94-degree heat.
The second night we headed up highway 112 along the Strait of Juan de Fuca, past Neah Bay, and stopped at Cape Flattery for a hike and the greatest camp spot known to man. I wrote the story on Instagram, so I'll just copy and paste that here:
We pulled up to this spot last night overlooking Cape Flattery and both audibly gasped and hooted and hollered at the straight up majestic beauty of it all. And then couldn't believe we were lucky enough to camp here. As we were setting up camp, Jeffrey, an elder from the Makah Tribe, pulled up in his truck, two dogs ambling behind him, Bob Dylan blasting from the stereo. He told us the history of the area, the importance of the ocean and the fish, and how he fought congress about the oil ships that pass through. He then sang us two songs from his family: one a blessing on the ocean and the other a story about an albino eagle that travels through the area. He told us the ocean is ours, his, and everyone's and that it's up to us to take care of it. He took my hand, said godspeed, and went on his way. I loved every minute of it and will never forget it. We sat on our luggage rack and watched the sun setting over the most northwesterly tip of the US and felt real chill, ya'll. Camping is magic, and I'll love Lady Starship forever.
I plan to head back to the peninsula once the blasted summer is over and the Northwest gets back to its normal PNW vibes of fog, mist, and all things wonderful in that realm. Until then, we're hoping to head to Mt. Saint Helens this weekend and Rainier National Park. Gimme alllllllllll the camping goodness. All of it.