6.05.2011

Like Tourists on the Washington Coast

Another milestone was getting closer - the Northwesternmost point in the contiguous United States. We had been to the Southernmost point, Key West (gosh, it feels like years ago!), so it only made sense to visit Cape Flattery, and make this trip truly 'cross country'.

On the way up the Oregon Coast, we stopped to fill our money hungry gas tank and chatted with the lady at the till. She told us to have fun on our journey and that we would pass through her town just a little up the road - 'Hump Two Lips'. "Hump Two Lips?" I asked. "Yes," she said, "Hump Two Lips." Okay. . . In just a few miles and we saw the sign 'Entering Humptulips'. 220 people, a small grocery and a post office.

There were many small towns like this along the coast, which was not as impressive as the California Coast, so we went inland to the temperate rainforests and lakes. The forests lived up to their name and were very rainy. Moist and mossy. Weekend getawayers form the city (Seattle) park their Mercs and Beemers outside the Lake Quinault Lodge, where Roosevelt used to frequent. We sought out a few waterfalls, but didn't linger long in the drizzle.

We entered the Maka Nation to get to Cape Flattery. Drove through the fishing, boating, and Coast Guard community, parked at the trailhead and walked West as far as was humanly possible. The trail ended high up on the cliffs, looking out at Vancouver Island in the distance and looking back at ocean carved caves and whirlpools. We took lots of beautiful pictures, proof that we made it. Cross Country. But Mary Lou accidentally deleted all the photos the next morning while formatting her camera.

Walked back to the RV and, for the first time, plotted an Eastward journey. There is still a lot to see on the way back, but, we took a moment's pause to consider that we were kind of, sort of, starting to make our way home. Although 'home' has definitely become more of the "where your heart is" that the decorative wood plaques say, than the house of 28 years that is still so clear in the memory. It's funny to think that someone new is walking up the staircase to bed, opening the screen door to watch the sunset off the deck, or sitting on the front porch watching the neighbor kids ride their bikes up the hill.

So, Eastward bound. We stopped in Olympia National Park to drive up Hurricane Ridge. They still had 15 foot high snowbanks and the mountains were hiding behind the low, grey clouds pouring over the peaks and trickling through the pine trees. We stopped at Dungeness Spit and walked along the bleached, driftwood covered beach. We were going to walk the country's longest natural sandpit, out to the lighthouse, but it looked really far.

It felt like we had been driving for weeks, so we decided to find a nice campsite for little relaxation time. Port Townsend seemed like an adorable place to do a little shopping, have some seafood, and make a few minor RV repairs. The historic downtown ran right along the harbor and the original 1800's buildings housed little galleries, quiet cafes, and used bookstores. We looked for otters in the harbor while we had some espresso and checked our internet. Had a peaceful nights sleep right next to the water in Fort Warden Park.

In the middle of the night, our furnace stopped working, and by 5 am our toes were freezing. We bundled up in layers until the sun rose, and then asked around for help in the marina next door. We were directed to young man that used to work at an RV shop, who took a look inside and said it was most likely our ignition board. He gave us the directions to his father-in-law's RV repair shop. Lucky for us, it was only a sail switch that has broken, and we didn't have to pay $140 for a new ignition board. But, they did keep our RV in the back, working on it for two and a half hours (we also needed a new flush lever on our AquaMagic Toilet). At $90 and hour, we couldn't help but thinking the owner had kept us chatting a little longer than necessary.

But, we were all fixed up, road ready, and hungry. We asked around for the best seafood place, craving some fresh fish or mussels or clams. We were directed to Sea J's, a little dive right next to the fishing boat docks. The haggard waitress balked when I asked her what the fresh catch was. "We serve Alaskan filets, just like we always do," she said. Too hungry to find someplace else, we ordered their "world famous fish and chips" and spent the rest of lunch peeling off the way over-fried batter and eating whatever fish pieces were left. By the waitress' busy clanging and exasperated sighs, it was clear that she didn't have time to write a check, so we stood by the till, to show we were ready. As we were walking out the door, calculating in our heads, it was clear she overcharged us by $4. We were getting treated and cheated like tourists!

We hadn't met very friendly people in a while, too. No one to say, "My! You're a long way from home, aren't you?" or "What are you doing all the way out here?" People would give us an extensive list of all the nice things we should do in their town, to spend our money, but didn't seem to care about anything else. In response to numerous questions, people around town told us that you couldn't really find fresh fish or seafood anywhere in town, despite all those fishing boats docked in the harbor.

It had been grey and rainy since we left Portland, and showing no sign of clearing up. We went to see Pirate's of the Caribbean, to pass the time until we could sleep, wake up, and drive to Tacoma. We need some Art.


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