DAY 11: OLYMPIC PENINSULA & PORTLAND

It wasn't the coldest night we've spent in a tent, but settling into the makeshift mattress I could tell how much longer it took to get warm with less protection from the ground. Remember the acronym from yesterday's cold weather camping tip: COAT. We eventually warmed up and slept hard, only waking up once for the pitter patter of -- maybe deer hooves on the ground? When I sat up I realized that it was, not rain exactly, but big drops of dewy moisture dropping from the trees to the tent and ground from above. I think it did rain at some point in the night, just lightly.

My alarm went off at 7am. I snoozed for a moment before getting into motion, breaking down camp and feeling bad for disturbing Portland all cozy and warm. The goal was sunrise on the beach of Lake Crescent, so I had less than an hour. With packing the car and trying to keep all the wet camping gear separated from the dry gear, doing a limited morning routine, and changing at the car; I was pretty happy when we were at the lake just after eight o'clock.

There was one other Subaru already in the No Parking area, a photographer with a lot of fancy gear and telescoping lenses, looking like he may have waded into the lake for the perfect shot, unless ombre pants are coming into fashion. Portland and I looked much more casual, with my small Nikon and marionberry scone in hand, Portland in his blue puff coat. We set up at the center picnic table in front of the water and I took some pictures in between bites of breakfast. Portland stayed close, but I let him wander and drag his leash and take a drink from the cold lake water. Soon, another photographer pulled into the lot, setting up a tripod to shoot the sunrise that was just coming up over the mountain peaks in the distance, cutting through the clouds in a dramatic and glowy burst of light. This was a pretty perfect morning. The calm dawn on the water, surrounded by wild pine forests, low clouds hanging around the treetops, as a thin mist hung and danced above the glassy surface of the water.

Having the other photographers there definitely inspired me to snap a few more pictures, getting creative and considering angles that I could work with my limited technology. I didn't see those guys hiking over to the mossy rocks on the far edge of the beach, but I thought it was a cool shot. I would love to see their pictures compared to my own, and a part of me thought of saying something, even just a good morning. But it was all business here and of the three photographers, nobody spoke. I was the last to leave the beach.

Retracing our steps, we were back in Port Angeles a little after nine, and I got a spicy chai latte at The Blackbird Coffeehouse and sat outside to finish my blog post. From what I've seen, the Port Angeles area restaurants still haven't opened back up to indoor dining -- some of the biggest restrictions I've seen in my travels. After finishing my computer work, there was still a little time left before needing to get on the road. Just up the hill, inside Olympic National Park, was one of the dog friendly trails that I'd found in the area. The Peabody Creek Trail could be accessed from the park's Visitor Center parking lot, and we set out on a half mile loop trail from there.

The trail was quiet, damp, and a few degrees cooler than the world outside the forest. We saw a few other hikers, some with dogs, and almost immediately after starting down the trail, an older couple passed us asking, in a southern-ish accent, "Seen any bears?!" I replied, "Not yet," and then felt validated in all my precautions, although I did not have my bear bell in action today. I will, with minimal embarrassment, admit that I did sleep with the assembled bear horn and some pots to clang inside the tent last night.

The hike was very nice, through the thick green woods of tall pines, mixed with some golden orange deciduous trees with falling leaves, large ferns that were taller than me, as we walked down and along Peabody Creek. At the turning point for the short loop, there was the option to continue onto the longer part of the trail, so I decided we could walk a little bit further. Here, we passed over muddier terrain, two bridges made from a split log, spanning the gap, with a railing on one side. Portland had no problem traversing these elevated walkways.

We passed an older man tending to the trail, hand sawing a fallen tree trunk that had been partially blocking the trail. We exchanged pleasant remarks both times I passed him. We turned back after exploring along the creek for some ways, along with a side trail that brought us to big concrete walls that were covered in graffiti. Obviously, not the right route, but an unexpected find in this part of the woods. We turned back, retracing our steps, but somehow missed the turn for the half mile loop, extending our hike for just a short distance.

Back at the Visitor Center, it was almost noon, and it was time to get back on highway 101 to make our way towards Portland. Again, the drive through the mountains, and the windy part of the road along the Puget Sound was so beautiful that the drive time didn't really mean so much. Hard to imagine a more scenic drive, and I've driven a lot. I stopped once or twice for a photo out over the water, but some of the other stops I'd considered yesterday just didn't feel necessary in the moment today. That has been how things have worked out a lot on this trip: wishing for more time to see and do it all, but not feeling disappointed or like I missed out on anything when the time comes to move on.

One stop that I couldn't miss was the Hama Hama oyster farm that I had passed on my drive in yesterday. I've heard of them from a few of the oyster bars in Pittsburgh, and was excited to see their "oyster saloon" yesterday. This morning in my research, I'd discovered that only their farm store is open today, not the saloon, but I still had to stop. When I passed the two sequential rounded bridges over the Hamma Hamma River, I knew we were there. I pulled into the lot after signs reading oysters, clams, etc. and parked in front of the large, white pile of oyster shells with a silver motor boat with a captain in a yellow rain slicker poised on top. Eventually, I walked to the top of the pile, seeing that it was big enough for worn paths to explore the top of the enormous shell pile.

At the farm market ordering window, I wasn't sure what to do. I guess the woman didn't seem as helpful as I wanted, not making it seem that there was any chance to have shucked oysters on site today. I texted my friend Roxanne, asking if I could bring oysters to dinner tonight, but before she responded I was back in line. A couple ahead of me was buying oysters for a picnic to eat at one of the waterfront tables -- this was the option "C" I was looking for.

I bought their special, three dozen blue pool oysters for $35 along with a lemon and a bottle of Rainier beer (the Yuengling of the Pacific Northwest), and walked out to a picnic table near the edge of the grass by the water of the Hood Canal. I set up my shucking station, only having done this once, maybe twice before. The woman at the counter had tried to sell me on a shucking knife for $18.99, but that was just about the cost of my pocket knife so I figured I'd take my chances. I set up my picnic and shucked eight fresh oysters with lemon on the lawn at Hama Hama. It was so great. Right on the water, hills lined in pines all around. The perfect break in the drive to upgrade my lunch of car snacks.

Back on the road, I listened to my playlist and the rest of the drive flew right by even though I-5 was busy with traffic. Passing the turn towards Portland, I felt lucky to catch a quick but clear glimpse of Mt. Rainier above the tree line. The mountain was out!! That's what they say on clear days when you can see the mountain without cloud cover. I got to Zack's around the same time that he got home and unloaded a few things from the car, fed Portland, spread out wet gear to dry on the back porch, and unpacked a dozen oysters to save for dinner tomorrow. I talked with Zack for a few minutes about plans for hiking tomorrow, and how camping last night had gone. I decided to leave Portland to hang out with Zack for the night since I was sure he'd like a break from being on the go.

I navigated through spotty GPS to my friends Roxanne and Dave's house, about twenty minutes away, making a wrong turn right away and ending up at PDX airport. At their place, I was greeted by Dave, their daughter Maya, and their energetic and adorable young pup, Theo. I haven't seen Maya since she was a baby, actually, I haven't seen any of them since my trip to Burlington, Vermont in January 2017. So great to finally see them and catch up!

I brought the oysters and Roxanne got us a round of drinks and put my beer in a special Smokey the Bear koozie (that's #8), and we headed out back to sit around the fire pit. They have a nice house with a cute backyard, and Roxanne, Maya and I visited while Dave grilled up some sausages and we enjoyed pumpkin lentil soup. Roxanne and I talked about the trip so far, and our plans for hiking or doing something around town tomorrow. When Dave joined us, along with his older daughter, Bo, it was time for an autumn evening picnic of sausages with mustard and sauerkraut and potato salad, followed by a course of shucked oysters, and strawberry rhubarb pie topped with toasted marshmallows (optional) for dessert. I was amazed that brave Maya wanted to try raw oysters without any coercing from us -- already an adventure girl at four!

There was so much to get caught up on about travel and the last three years and quarantine life, work, and family. It was nice to hear stories from some of their hikes in the mountains near Portland, and their recent family trip in their RV. Maya was such a sweet and funny girl, she loves unicorns, and gifted me a very cool purple bat ring for Halloween. Bo came up with an activity for us all during dessert. She brought out pencils and slips of paper and had everyone write something down that they'd like to leave in the past -- and no one had to share. Everyone took time to write and then we shared a deep breath or two and cast our folded papers into the fire all at the same time. They all caught on fire, maybe not as dramatically as we would have liked, but I loved this activity and it was something simple and special to share together.

Time flew by and I wished we had more time to spend all together, chatting and sharing stories of past adventures. But, it was already getting late. Dave showed me some of Theo's many adorable tricks he'd trained him to do, along with some drone footage he'd taken on some of their hikes to Mt. Hood, and in other places in Oregon and beyond. Then, it was time for me to head back "home" to Zack's place.

Portland had clearly made himself at home at Zack's, curled up on the couch where they had watched a movie together. Zack and I split the crowler of Howl of the Wolfmama double IPA that I'd picked up from Cosmic Eye Brewing in Lincoln, NE last week, and it was just so so. Zack told me more about his sourdough bread making and about his new house. Then it was time to say goodnight and for me to get to typing, and yoga, too!