Thursday, July 19, 2012

OLYMPIA

Fully expecting to get drenched, I was let down yet again. The sun came out. For about 2 minutes, then it disappeared again. But I stayed dry. I decided to have a good look around the Park, seeing as I had a pass and all. So I headed on up to the enticingly named Hurricane Ridge, for a bit of a butcher's.



I half expected Julie Andrews to jump out from behind a bush and start singing "The hills are alive......"
But again I was disappointed.  I did get to ride on a couple of slightly scary unpaved roads with big drop offs though, in my search for the ultimate view. Obviously these are not the scariest bits, I wasn't going to stop at those.





Pushing further west, I  passed a large lake, Lake Crescent, which was astoundingly as clear as crystal, for as far out as I could see from the shore. Beautiful. Lets hope it stays that way.




Then I hit the coast at Rialto Beach, on the Quileute Indian Reservation. They're welcome to it. Giant heaps of logs washed up on the beach. I was evidently a few million years too early for any sand, the beach is made of rocks, but they are very smooth, and coming along nicely. Watch this space, but don't hold your breath.



I made the mistake of thinking I could ride through a big patch of baseball sized rocks in the parking area, but they proved to be bottomless, and I nearly dropped the bike as I went straight down to the axles. Woops! With as much dignity as I could muster, I paddled my way out, and departed, visor well down and hopefully anonymous. I continued on to the Hoh Rain Forest Ranger Station. That one is so obvious, I'm not even going to touch it. I saw some great temperate rain forest, reminiscent of Tasmania. Cold and wet, with slow growing trees covered in moss and other green stuff. But no Huon Pine here, rather the Sitka Spruce, and they are about a mile high. Well worth chopping down! Onwards, to Lake Quinault, where there are even more Sitka Spruce. While stopped to check directions, in fact I was about to turn around, a guy pulled up in a beaten up old car, and engaged me in conversation. The guy had dreadlocks down to his ankles, and only half as many teeth as me. I thought I was in for some aggro, but he only wanted to tell me there was a bunch of elk grazing next to the road a bit further along. You never can tell. And he was right. These guys are bigger than deer, about the size of a small cow, and pretty solid.





INTERMISSION.


Have I mentioned how pissed off I am at cheap motels that routinely advertise that they have free wi fi ? After a typical traveller has parted with the readies, then discovered to his disappointment that the room  hasn't got a fridge, but is nevertheless looking forward to settling down to check email, book the next day's accommodation, perhaps even to do a bit of blogging, when he finds out that:

  • There is no wi fi at all, you lying, cheating, deceptive bastards. The Commodore 64 in the front office for guest use doesn't count, but might be just enough to stop a law suit.
  • The wi fi doesn't work if you are too far away from the office.
  • The system drops out at random, and you have to retype half your blog, even if you save it as you go. 
  • The server once belonged to Noah, and is slower than a snail on valium, especially at loading photos.
  • We are having a problem with the wi fi right now, but it should be fixed tomorrow  (just after you leave).

Did I mention that?  No ?  Didn't think so.
And another thing, when you buy Blue Diamond Smoked Almonds, make sure they are not the Jalapeno variety. Senor Jesus! OK then, back to work.


So I moved on to a forgettable little town called Aberdeen, which I subsequently found was the home of John Elway, a big time football hero (Denver Broncos quarterback, if memory serves). And Kurt Cobain, as it happens. Why is it that some people are more famous when they're dead than they were when they were alive??

Moving right along, I followed the coast further south, with threatening clouds following me the whole way, and a chill in the air. Lots of greenery, trees, and muddy river estuaries. We used to call these places swamps, and were quite proud of filling them in, in the interest of controlling disease and creating productive land. Until we found out how critical their role is in the ecosystem as a whole. Oops! Don't worry, there's still a heap of swamp up here though, sorry, I meant wetlands. Shortly thereafter, I crossed a humungous bridge over the Columbia River, and I was in Oregon. Next episode people. I've had enough of this useless connection for one night. Actually, those almonds do grow on you, after the initial shock.

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