Washington State

The Olympic Peninsula Strikes Again

September 14, 2019 By drpaddle Leave a Comment

I follow all sorts of great forums and social media groups focused on camping and glamping, so I get to see a lot of appealing camping venues and RV parks. They’re everywhere! However, the most appealing ones often seem to be unreasonably distant, in areas with names like Florida (3k miles), Maine (about the same), or possibly Croatia (more).

We have nothing against long trips, except, well, Sooz doesn’t like the idea. What if the plants wilt? What if we miss a bill and our payment is late? What if the Big One (earthquake) hits home and we’re not there to react? (I am thinking I’d rather react from a distance. Maybe just point the other direction and keep going.)

Yellowstone looks great, and it’s not too far. Devil’s Tower draws me in a not-quite-right sort of way. The Smoky Mountains… wow. Florida Keys. Acadia National Park. Why not Newfoundland? But they are out there a bit. Lotsa towing.

I ponder the relationship between distance-from-home and campground appeal, fully aware that there are hundreds of locations, only a few hours from home, that we’ve never seen. And some of them might merit an 11 or 12 on the old one-to-ten yardstick, if we would summon up the gumption to go.

Case in point: Salt Creek Recreation Area, a county park near Port Angeles, in Washington the State.

Gumption, rewarded. Less than a minute’s stroll from our pull-through RV site at Salt Creek, we got to soak in this view. That’s Vancouver Island over there across the Strait of Juan de Fuca.

This place, Salt Creek Recreation Area, looks about as good as you’d want it to. We meant to come here once before but something happened (weather, family, important football game, who can remember?). This time we made the reservations and actually showed up. Note: A recent post erroneously told of a terrier illness that forced us to head home instead of elsewhere. We did have to head home, but not until we were at this Salt Creek place. This is the place where Wally (or was it Tyler?) got really sick. We love the terriers, but they were more fun when their warranties were still in effect.

Here are some highly desirable sites at Salt Creek. Not much privacy, but the views, and the all-around natural feeling of the larger setting, make it all worthwhile. You will note that The Toto is not in this picture; that’s because we didn’t reserve at the earliest moment and were lucky just to get a site at all. When we come back, we want one of these sites, please.

Just uphill from those prime RV spots is a spacious meadow, suitable for kite-flying, dog-walking or deer-watching.

Obligatory wildlife shot. Likely a blacktail deer, but not yet confirmed by anyone knowledgeable.

Now please take a moment to enjoy the spaciousness.

This part of the Olympic Peninsula is, I think, in a “Rain Shadow” area that automatically limits rainfall without the need for government intervention. So one doesn’t see a lot of overly irrigated lawns like one might see in other, nearby regions. It’s okay, though, isn’t it?

Wandering around this large park led us to Crescent Bay, defined by Tongue Point on the east end and Crescent Rock on the west. The place is crawling with tidepools, which you can explore if you’re willing to traipse down some fairly long stairways with the knowledge that you will have to traipse back up. Note: the tidepools don’t disappear at high tide, but they are underwater and so not very interesting at that time.

Crescent Bay sports two large geological features, known as “rocks” on nautical charts, and, as far as I can tell, unnamed. At low tide you can walk to them (bring rubber boots), and at high tide they become islands. Just behind and to the left of this temporary island is a white, crescent-shaped (surprise!) beach, where we saw actual people actually wading. Maybe the shallows warm up a bit on sunny days. I’ll never know.

We reserved ahead of time, but not ahead enough, and so our site was less than perfect. But not much less.

See those bikes on The Toto’s rear end? We didn’t use them on this trip. They were just hanging there, feeling disused. Our site was long enough for the biggest of big rigs, and we felt small enough, and that was okay, feeling that way.

There’s much more to say about Salt Creek Recreation Area. For instance:

It was once Camp Hayden, a military fort set up during World War II in honor of potentially invading Japanese forces. Well, not in honor of… more like in order to repel. The guns could fire shells 28 miles, but were only tested once, and then no one attacked, and the war ended, and the feds gave the land to Clallam County for use as a park. One can hike around and see where the old guns were.
It is popular with locals, and half the sites are first-come-first-serve, so the locals come out during the week and stake claims. Invaders (like us) from other parts of the region make reservations.
After our stay, we decided it was really nice, and so we recommend you don’t come, so we will be able to secure those coveted spots we like.
Wally really did get sick here, and we had to go home instead of onward to La Push, where our friends awaited our arrival by forgetting we were coming. But before he got sick, he guarded our site—one of his favorite RVing activities. Good job, Wally.

A happy moment, before all the panting started.

We got ourselves out to another park along the Strait a few days later. Watch this space for rambling commentary.

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Squeezing maximum fun out of an ultra-slim site

September 3, 2019 By drpaddle Leave a Comment

We were here, in this tight space, in Port Townsend, Washington the State, because of penguins.

Our spacious site at Point Hudson Marina and RV Park. Somewhere in here is a peek of Admiralty Inlet, Whidbey Island, someone’s late-model coupe, and a motor home from British Columbia that houses (among others) two highly attractive Cairn Terriers. (!!!)

Just about everyone I know has gone through a penguin phase. There’s just something about them (penguins, I mean) that draws people in. Consider: when is the last time you were thinking about penguins? Probably in the last few seconds. I rest my case.

For me, it was, more precisely, about photographing penguins, because photography is my temporary passion. I say temporary because I have had other passions in my life, but some of them passed, and others were wrenched from me (cue violins), and so I think of them as temporary, except no, not you Sooz, of course not you.

Anyway, I looked into it. Photographing penguins in the wild means traveling to the higher latitudes of the southern hemisphere. Bucket-list items aren’t supposed to be all that easily attainable, but this is kind of an extreme case. Easier than achieving low orbit, perhaps, but still a long flight and a chunk of change. I haven’t crossed it off my list yet, but I did start casting about for some kind of intermediate step.

Possibly the only penguin I have ever photographed.

And so I learned about puffins, known by some (not by me) as the penguins of the north. Almost as odd-looking, similar color scheme, suitably avian, and, it turns out, also difficult to photograph, because they are not your regular yardbird. You have to go find them at specific places.

One of which is Protection Island, which guards the mouth of Discovery Bay, which is around the back side of Port Townsend, or perhaps the front side, depending on your perspective.

Months ago, I read of a viewing opportunity: a naturalist-led cruise on a whale-watching boat to see, maybe, some puffins. The cruise departs out of the Point Hudson Marina in Port Townsend, so I tried to find a cruise date on which the Marina’s partner RV park could accommodate us. I succeeded, nabbing the last available site in the park.

Once we arrived for our three-day stay, the reason for the site’s lingering availability became clear. The site was (and is) a little tight. Fabulous location, just a little cozy.

On the plus side, our site, labeled a back-in, abutted a curb-less street, so it functioned as a pull-through. That really helped.

You know what, we know people. People who live in Port Townsend, and people who live near Port Townsend, and people who know the people who live in and near Port Townsend. We know them all from either living near them or camping near them or both. We took advantage of this trip to invite ’em over to our spacious digs for a delectable meal of delivery pizza. It was great to see them all, but they are not pictured here… Witness Protection Program, etc.

The next day was puffin cruise day, but the weather service posted a small craft advisory for five-foot wind waves for the very area of Protection Island. I decided to ditch the cruise, stay at the marina and enjoy the company of the team. I don’t know how the weather turned out on the cruise, but I had fun anyway. On the other hand, I still don’t have any puffin photographs.

Have you ever been to this place? It has some things to offer.

The marina is appealing. They have a big Wooden Boat Festival here every September (they throw all the RVs out and park vendors and exhibitors and the like instead).

This is an old commander’s cottage that’s been turned into a B&B. Adjoining the RV park’s “cozy loop” (ours), it’s called “The Commander’s Cottage.”

One afternoon I took a stroll on the beach and got strafed, seemingly, by a raptor of some kind. I watched it land in a tree at the end of the loop, and, camera in hand, sidled innocently in the tree’s direction, hoping to get a shot of the creature.

It was, I later learned, a Cooper’s Hawk. It hung around for a long time, then swept away to harass other campers.

Our next planned destination, at La Push on the Pacific Coast, didn’t work out, because Wally took ill. When one of the boys takes ill, it is the custom to crawl up between our pillows and pant all night long, usually after barfing in a few places. Wally kept up the tradition, so we reversed course and headed home the next day for a pair of overpriced veterinarian visits.

Wally improved after draining our checking account, and we headed back out for a short dry-camping trip, where we learned that (a) solar power doesn’t work so well in a heavily wooded campground, and (b) RV water heater manufacturers are prone to using the cheapest, least reliable components they can find. Details to follow.

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Guilt and Breakfast at the Blue Buoy

September 2, 2019 By drpaddle Leave a Comment

I just now noticed the buoy above the sign. Huh.

When you’re parked at Champoeg State Park, after dark, a thing you can do with your time is research your next destination. We combed the interwebs for attractions near Grayland Beach State Park, and learned of a restaurant in Westport, Washington. Great breakfasts, said the many discerning folk who frequent Yelp and TripAdvisor. We put The Blue Buoy on our to-do list.

Getting to Grayland involved driving over a the very high bridge between Astoria, Oregon and the Columbia River’s north shore in Washington the State. It’s perfectly safe, as long as it’s not windy, but it’s something of a steering wheel-gripper. We did not fall off.

It seems steeper and narrower in our rig. And, because, I didn’t take a photo: Photo by Ron Reiring – originally posted to Flickr as Hollywood Freeway in Astoria, OR, CC BY 2.0, Link

Aaaaand then we got to Grayland, finding a surprisingly pleasant site, but also surprised to learn that it didn’t have a sewer hookup. No big deal, just a four-night stay, and conveniently located.

This pull-through site was a late find… we must have found it online right after someone cancelled their visit. Right across from a restroom, but quite private regardless. Score!

We’ve been coming to Grayland for five years (!), but this is the first time we had one of these few pull-through sites. We’ll try to get one of these again sometime. Nice.

90-foot parking pad, but somehow there was only one best place to park. How does that happen?

Grayland is good for walks on the beach, but it does not provide awe-inspiring sea stacks or historic lighthouses or any of that. All you really need here is a kite.

A short walk over the dunes left only a five-mile stroll to the ocean. Not really. Also, when you get out near the water, there are clams under there. And they’re alive.

Oh, the Blue Buoy. Remember how Tyler and Wally stayed home for this trip (against their will)? This meant we could drive somewhere and not be sure when we would return, without guilt. (I recently saw a bumper sticker that said “SCREW GUILT.” I kind-of liked it.) At any rate we headed into Westport for a good breakfast. After some dissonance between Google Maps and Westport’s one-way streets, we found the place, got a nice table with a view and… I invested in some guilt, in the form of a #3 (I think) that involved French toast, eggs, bacon and some other stuff.

I am not supposed to eat French toast, or anything else I really enjoy. And I usually don’t. But this day I did.

I’m trying it out: Screw guilt.

Late-day view available to campers slumped in their chairs, mulling the meaning and utility of guilt.

Possibly because of a record-breaking number of changes to this trip, we got home one day after our house-sitter expected us. Embarrassment ensured, but we got over it—because, well, you know.

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Ohanapecosh, out of order

August 26, 2016 By drpaddle 4 Comments

There is so much more to tell about our Oregon coast trip last month, but at the moment, while it’s fresh, here’s a quick take on the Ohanapecosh campground, in the southeast corner of Mount Rainier National Park.

U.S. National Parks, as you probably know, aren’t very accommodating to dogs. The reasons for this have been debated elsewhere, but it is what it is, so… when you take Cairn terriers camping to Mount Rainier, it’s mostly about the campground and its immediate environs. Dogs aren’t really allowed outside campgrounds, vehicles and parking lots. That’s it.

But our pals from Port Townsend have sung the praises of Ohanapecosh to us for many moons, and we had a few days in late August to kill. So there we went.

Southeast entrance, Mount Rainier National Park. Our destination was just a few miles up the road from here.

From our hovel in Gig Harbor, there are few ways to drive to Ohanapecosh: the fast way — one that involves Cayuse Pass and what our Mountain Directory books calls “a narrow, winding, bumpy road” and a number of drop-offs that cause Sooz to begin singing hymns and Wally to whimper — or either of two slower ways. For this trip we tried the two slower ways, both of which require driving south to the west of the park, then turning east and heading back up north a few miles from the White Pass Scenic Byway (Washington state route 12). State route 123 gets you from route 12 up to the park entrance and, just a few miles beyond, Ohanapecosh.

You get there, you find your campsite, you park, you hear the river rapids below. You’re in old-growth forest: Western Redcedar, Douglas fir, all the usual suspects. Crows call out (surely, they follow us around from campsite to campsite).

Our campsite overlooking the river, before the pushy neighbors showed up.

The campsites are fairly large, though the parking pads, not so much. And the roads through the campground loops are perhaps a little bit twistier than some places we have been. Not a problem for our little rig, but the campground says it can’t accommodate motorhomes over 32 feet long or trailers over 28 feet long. That sounds about right.

At any rate, our campsite (C-8), was at pretty much right angles to the loop road, and maneuvering into it required some fairly sharp turning. A little too sharp, at one point.

Every good campsite has its price. In this case… a tail light lens. So glad that’s all it cost!

BANG went the tail light lens, when pressed upon by one of the lock clasps on our front storage box. At least we were alerted by a $59 lens and not hundreds-of-dollars’-worth of fender. Ooops. As you might guess, this incident led to lengthy discussions and plentiful Internet research about parking methods, teamwork, the cost of divorce lawyers vs. the cost of auto body shop repairs, etc.

Seriously, just an inexpensive lesson learned about just how acutely Toto and TinMan can angle their way in or out of somewhere. And I really did find some helpful new tips online that will even simplify poking Toto into his cozy beside-the-house storage slot.

So. We were camping, right? Yes. The sites were designed, I think, when tents were almost universally used. Firepits and picnic tables were back behind parking pads instead of beside them, and were placed so haphazardly that the rangers had decided to mark each firepit or picnic table with a site number. Every site also has a food locker to discourage critters from consuming junk food.

Our sit's fire pit had a nice view of some Ohanapecosh River rapids. Really pleasant. We spent two evenings here, warming our toes and sipping something-or-other. Also, baseball on the radio!

Our site’s fire pit had a nice view of some Ohanapecosh River rapids. Really pleasant. We spent two evenings here, warming our toes and sipping something-or-other. Also, baseball on the radio!

There are plenty of sites in the woods, along creeks, and — in a few cases — alongside the Ohanapecosh River.

A bridge spans the river, bisects the campground, and offers a nice peek upstream. This is bear country — they made us lock up our food and cooking appliances — and so, well, shouldn’t there be a bear (or three) in this picture? We thought so.

For better or for worse, our site along the C loop was quite close to a vaguely designated Day Use Area.

Parts of the river in front of us were calm; these shallows have been identified by park visitors as the Day Use Area. “Day Use Area” is an Anglo-American phrase meaning “Place for kids, and some adults, to scream as loudly as possible.”

The river just below our campsite offered some nice views, white-noise-producing rapids, and relatively serene (if chilly) swimming holes.

When not covered by Day Users on Holiday, these rocks made nice perches for contemplation.

Just upstream from The Shallows Day Use Area is The Pool Day Use Area. The main difference between the two areas is the loudness of the splashes emanating from them. I believe the screaming produced by the Splashers may have been louder here, too — but maybe not.

Not so many Day Users in the rapids. Just your regular River Roar sound -- all those river rapids sound alike, don't they?

Not so many Day Users in the rapids. Just your regular roaring rapids sound. All those river rapids sound alike, don’t they?

Ohanapecosh, for us, poses the question: How do we want to consume Natural Beauty?

Ohanapecosh is open for only about three months in summer — the rest of the time it’s under many feet of snow. That means there really is no “off-season” time we can visit — say, when school is in session. It’s a beautiful place. But, in our culture, beautiful places appeal not only to nature nerds, but to families with happily shouting young children, party-prone young adults, and other distractions. Hey, they pay their taxes, they have a right to be here, and enjoy it in their own way. But it does cut into our enjoyment. This is the price we pay for not being backpackers or wealthy landowners.

We have longtime friends — much more fit and agile than are we — who regularly do back-country hikes. They also take great pictures! They get to experience nature at its grandest, perhaps. We can approximate their experience on short day hikes, but with the terriers in tow they do have to be short.

Anyway, it’s a topic worth exploring, and one we have revisited frequently since our 3-week, peak-season Oregon coast trip. How to optimize RV-related joy. Hmmmm.

Well, there’s this approach: the short day hike, experienced early in the morning when it’s uncrowded. This was a lovely walk, right from the campground.

We had some ambitious (for us) hiking plans, but various developments limited us to just this one. It was fine. I took some photos of various nature sights along the way, but all the photos were lousy. I mean worse than my usual. So I’ll spare you.

What we missed: A two-mile loop hike to Silver Falls departs right from the campground, and a stroll through something called the Grove of the Patriarchs is a short drive away. Next time.

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Walking Fort Worden State Park

August 16, 2016 By drpaddle 4 Comments

There are abundant walking opportunities around Fort Worden State Park. We took two walks — a short one and a shorter one — from our deluxe campsite in the Beach campground. The shorter one is just around the campground.

This path runs atop the dunes bordering the beach campground.

This path offers the same old boring stunning stupendous views we’ve already discussed. Note, however, that if you are a Cairn terrier you are not going to see these views because the dune grass blocks them.

Admiralty Inlet and Whidbey Island from the Fort Worden beach campground.

… unless you can get a ride.

Winded at this point, the terriers ride along the dune-top trail.

This shorter walk was ideal for day of arrival. The next day, we were going to go for a longer walk, and maybe we did. Or maybe we entertained some locals (friends we met last year) and went for our walk the next day. Yes, that was it — I remember them recommending a hike around the fort’s batteries. We followed their advice.

Meadows. Forest. Terriers. Fort Worden is a BIG park, so we took long walks.

We took the doggies up a fairly steep path to get to this collection of woods and meadows and gun emplacements. The hill was maybe a little too steep to do with a doggie stroller, but that’s a pattern I’m getting used to. Good exercise.

One of a series of batteries we strolled by with the boys (and their stroller).

We walked about three miles that day. I know it doesn’t sound like much, but it’s about the max we can do with the stroller and the terriers. Without them, I think we could probably manage 3.25 miles…

Tyler and Wally wanted to go spelunking under a deteriorating structure. I’m afraid we had to discourage them.

The aging structure in question has been a theatrer and a supply depot. Now a vacation rental for termites.

The aging structure in question has been a theater and a supply depot. Now a vacation rental for termites.

This led to some frustration on Wally's part.

Our reluctance to loose the hounds under the building led to some frustration on Wally’s part.

We did find a place for Wally to chill a little.

Meditation garden, just down from the batteries. No wars were actually fought at the fort, so there was plenty of time for contemplation, I guess.

…. and so, after a few wrong turns and an accidental tour of the barracks area of the park, we headed back to the campground.

I tried but failed to tire of this view. It turns out failure is an option after all.

Wow, I am all the way caught up with writing about our travels, except for a just-completed six-campground trip down, and up, the Oregon Coast. I will get right on it.

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Lured to Port Townsend, tricked into staying

August 14, 2016 By drpaddle 3 Comments

This mural adorns a building in Port Townsend’s Yacht Haven district. Nice.

We have been to Port Townsend before — many times, in fact. It’s less than two hours from home (we used to live even closer), and it has lots of boats and sights and restaurants and shops and culture and a Wooden Boat Festival complete with sing-it-yourself sea shanties. It also has a ferry terminal we use to get to Whidbey Island and points north and east.

There’s always a reason to go. Here’s another: Fort Worden State Park, one of Washington’s premier parks. Camping, trails, beach strolling, kayaking, history, and lots of fresh air, and even a new brew-pub-looking place serving food and beverages. For us, a bonus: we know some people who live in Port Townsend, so we can obtain Local Knowledge, and maybe a free beer. It could happen.

Also, eye candy:

Eye Candy everywhere. Pt. Wilson lighthouse, Admiralty Inlet, Whidbey Island, distant Cascades, and some kelp. Not a bad place for a stroll.

Just over a low dune from this vantage point: our campsite at one of the park’s two campgrounds, just a few weeks ago in late June. It was a pull-through site with full hookups — although the way the site was configured, our sewer hose wouldn’t reach. (The more camping we do, the more I think pull-through sites are best for motor homes and coaches; back-in sites seem to work better for towables like Toto.) We opted to be cautious with liquids and waited until the day we left to dump, and that worked fine.

Admiralty Inlet is just over the dunes there. Yes, we had an ocean view if we stood on the truck.

The Beach Campground is just fine. Squeaky-clean bathrooms and showers, well-spaced sites, lots to do within walking distance. You can reserve, I think, up to a year in advance; we got our site (I would call it a preferred site, one of the best) about 9 months in advance.

Sense of solitude: Not available in this campground. But all the campers were laid-back and the sites are well-spaced.

Note: staying here (or anywhere near the north end of Whidbey Island) means the occasional overflight of subsonic military aircraft. Those navy pilots are flying around honing their skills and probably shooting high-speed photos of attractive RVs. Possibly. Anyway there is a little noise from these and it can make terrier eyes get bigger and rounder. Good to see our pilots helping to protect us all from evil despots and imperialist governments or maybe space aliens. It could happen!

Some sights around the park:

A Marine Science Center ($5 donation) awaits those who long to touch sea stars.

A Marine Science Center ($5 donation) awaits at the end of a pier, for those who long to touch sea stars.

Mount Constitution (on Orcas Island in the San Juans) is the long, flat ridge in the far distance on the right. We’ll take Toto there someday, too.

Point Wilson Lighthouse, Fort Worden State Park

The park was a fort, once. We took Wally and Tyler, our intrepid terriers, on a longer-than-expected walk through some of the fortlike trappings, and will soon report on that stroll. For the moment, though:

In about 18 months of Toto travel (so far), Fort Worden is Sooz’s favorite. Works for me too.

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