Wednesday, September 18
It’s a beautiful day in Port Angeles. The sun is shining. I want to get the Perfect Tow Vehicle out of the trees at Heart of the Hills Campground. The solar panel needs sun!
“C’mon, guys! Let’s go visit City Pier.”
Hollywood Beach is next to the pier.
Bridget, Spike, and I leave our footprints and paw prints in the sand. It’s a short beach and it looks like the perfect place for people to sit on a log to contemplate life . . .
. . . or maybe to dream of sailing to far away shores.
A huge ship is docked at the pier.
We walk the length of the ship and come upon a young man lowering a narrow ramp. He wears the red vest of an employee.
“Where does this ship go?” I ask.
“Cruises Puget Sound for a week,” he replies. “Seven nights.”
I start to walk away, stop and comment, “Nice work if you can get it.”
“Yeah, it ain’t bad,” he responds, smiling.
It’s still early. Where shall we go today? The Washington atlas is in the PTV. I’ll choose a destination for a day trip . . . We stop so I can snap a photo of another boat.
This walk will set up the crew for a long nap while I drive. Here comes another boat . . . wearing a lot of tires.
On the way to the PTV, the crew and I pass an octopus in the parking lot.
I go back to the Marine Life Center at the pier. A lady docent sits outside by the open door.
“Hello. May I go inside?” I ask.
“Certainly! Come on in,” she responds. I’m the only visitor at the moment. The docent takes me from one big tank to another, pointing out the various live creatures and explaining how they eat, move, and protect themselves.
There’s a live webcam screen that looks like a large television screen mounted on a wall. The camera is under the pier. The docent explains that what I’m looking at are barnacles feeding on plankton. “That’s something you rarely get a chance to see,” she says proudly.
She shows me the sensors along the shell of a big scallop that signals when it should open or close.
We look at an octopus curled up in the corner of another tank.
“The octopus is an intelligent creature It will bond with a human very easily. They can even learn commands.”
I notice a hermit crab peeking out of a shell in the same tank.
“That’s supper for the octopus. He must not be hungry right now.”
The sea anenomes are about the size of a dinner plate. I ask for permission to take these photos and the lady docent replies, “Oh, go ahead. They don’t care.” This makes me laugh.
I learn that the lady is a native of Oklahoma.
“You’re from Oklahoma and you’re an expert on marine life.”
“I came out here twenty years ago and fell in love with it,” she explains.
Salt River Recreation Area
I take Highway 101 west and pick up Highway 112. The drive is mostly through forest with occasional homes along the road. It’s another Discovery Pass area. That’s okay. I only want to see it, walk a little with the crew, and take a few photos.
The campground is positioned on a slope to allow every camper a few of the Strait of Juan de Fuca, although some may have to put their camp chair on top of their picnic table.
I park in the day use area. The sign says there’s no fee. Hmm . . . I wonder if it’s okay to stay longer than fifteen minutes.
Bridget and Spike always wake up when we enter a campground. They jump out of the PTV and I grab their leases. It’s easy to guess why there’s a campground here.
A high wooden fence, as well as cable, keep people from falling off the cliff onto the rocks and waves below.
A couple sets up a tripod for their cannon-like camera. I ask if they’ve seen any seals and they say no. They’re looking at birds.
The crew and I follow the fence. New vistas appear.
I look across the strait to Vancouver Island. Francois and Jean live over there in the town of Sooke. (You may remember I met this friendly couple when we both camped near Barstow, California last year.)
The water here has that lovely green hue I saw in the Tieton River. Someone … Was it Jimmy? Les? … explained that the green comes from glacial “rock flour.” The glacier grinds up rock, shaving off tiny particles of rock and minerals. The refraction of light in these particles gives the green hue.
Bridget and Spike are unaware of what lies several feet below the fence trail. They’re involved in sniffing the messages of previous canine hikers.
Before leaving I drive us up another road, leave Bridget and Spike in the PTV, and walk by myself down a steep trail. A lovely cove with sandy beach comes into view. I take photos but the light is wrong and they don’t come out well.
On the way out of Salt Creek Rec Area, I slow for a pedestrian.
I pass the campground again. Gee, that’s togetherness . . .
In Port Angeles I buy a chicken fajita pita at a drive-through. I munch on it as I drive up to our campsite in Olympic National Park. Of course, I give a few bites of chicken to Bridget and Spike along the way.
While in line at the park toll booth, I sense a commotion behind me. I turn around and see Spike with his head stuck in the Jack-in-the-Box bag! He’s whipping his head this way and that . . . “Hey, why’s it so dark all of a sudden!” What a silly boy!
With Spike, it’s always something . . .
rvsue
AS ALWAYS, THANK YOU FOR SHOPPING AMAZON THROUGH MY LINKS!
