A Very Pacific Northwest Labor Day Weekend: Rain, Bikes, Socks & a Troll
Sometimes the best adventures are the ones you almost talk yourself out of taking.
That was almost me this Labor Day weekend.
The plan was simple enough: drive out to the Olympic Peninsula, camp for a couple of nights, get some biking in, and enjoy a few days away from home. But the distance, the ferry rides, the cost of gas, and the thought of making that long drive were all reasons I could have easily used to stay home.
Fortunately, Donna asked to join me.
And that’s how what could have been a quiet weekend at home turned into three days of rain, camping, cycling, questionable packing decisions, beautiful scenery, pizza, a campground full of holiday weekend campers, and an unexpected visit to a troll.
In other words, a pretty typical adventure for me.
Thursday: Rain, Pavilions & a Camping Emergency
After loading up my car on Thursday, I left Seattle and headed for the Edmonds ferry. I got incredibly lucky and only had to wait about five minutes before they started loading us.
I don’t think I’ve ever gotten across to Kingston that quickly. Usually, it’s at least an hour of waiting, if not longer.
Once we were underway, I settled in for the crossing. We were about halfway to Kingston when the captain made an announcement:
There was a pod of orcas in the area, and we were going to have to stop the ferry completely and wait for them to move on.
Well, I certainly wasn’t going to complain about that.
The ferry stopped, and everyone got the opportunity to watch the orcas as they put on a little show for us. What started as a routine ferry crossing suddenly became an unexpected wildlife encounter.
I have to admit, that’s a pretty fantastic way to start a camping trip.
Eventually, the orcas moved on and we continued toward Kingston. Once I got off the ferry, I headed west toward my destination: Bogachiel State Park.
About an hour from the campground, the rain started.
And not just a little rain—a good, heavy downpour.
Great.
Apparently, I was going to get the full Pacific Northwest camping experience and set up my tent in the rain. Even if the rain stopped by the time I arrived, I knew the ground would be wet and muddy.
Sure enough, it was still raining when I pulled into the campground. So I put on my Cleverhood waterproof cape, slipped some cheap rubber booties over my shoes, and got to work.
By the time I had the tent set up, the rain had at least downgraded itself to a drizzle. It was only about 4:30 p.m., and I wasn’t about to sit in my car for the rest of the afternoon—or sit at a wet picnic table—so I went looking for a trail.
I found a short one nearby that followed the river. It was probably only about a quarter of a mile long, but it got me out of the car and gave me something to do.
At the end of the trail, I came out near another section of the campground and noticed someone had set up their tent under a pavilion.
I called out, “That’s very clever!”
They told me it was their third day of camping and everything they owned was soaked. The maintenance person had told them it was perfectly fine to set up under the pavilion.
I was a little jealous.
Then, on my way back to my campsite, I noticed something wonderful:
There was another pavilion right next to the restroom.
Bingo!
I wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice.
I didn’t even take my tent down. I pulled up the stakes and dragged the entire thing—tent and all—over to the pavilion like some kind of camping travois.
Once it was safely under cover, I went back to the car and unloaded everything I would need for the next couple of days. Soon I had all my gear tucked under the pavilion, safe from the rain.
I texted Donna:
“We’re going to stay dry no matter what this weekend!”
She arrived around 5:30, and I told her to bring her stuff over and I’d help her set up.
Duane had loaned her a tent, and she’d never put it up before. But between the two of us, we managed to get it standing on the very first try—with absolutely no directions.
Not bad!
I wasn’t particularly hungry, so I opened a can of mac and had it with some crackers for dinner. Donna, meanwhile, was apparently exhausted from the excitement of arriving at camp because she was asleep by 6:30.
I spent the next couple of hours lying in my tent and playing on my phone.
Then my stomach started feeling really bad.
I was getting tired and figured I should at least get up and use the restroom before settling in for the night. The restroom was only about ten feet away.
Unfortunately, my body had other plans.
The moment I stood up, things in the back end became very urgent, very quickly. The urge to evacuate was apparently stronger than my ability to maintain control, and before I knew it, I’d had a little camping accident.
This had never happened to me before.
I was mortified—even though absolutely nobody was around to witness it.
Fortunately, I had a towel and soap with me, so once I retrieved them, I was able to take a shower and clean myself up. I also had some small trash bags, which came in handy for rinsing out and bundling up my unfortunate little pajamas.
Then I discovered another problem.
Dry socks.
The socks I’d been wearing earlier were soaking wet, and I suddenly realized I’d packed exactly one pair of socks for the entire weekend.
One.
Apparently, when packing for a camping trip, I had decided socks were an unnecessary luxury.
As if that wasn’t enough, I’d also forgotten my camp stove and a couple of other things.
Clearly, I needed to make myself a camping checklist.
Eventually, everything was cleaned up, bundled away, and reasonably under control. I crawled back into my tent and finally fell asleep.
Thankfully, the rest of the night was uneventful.
Friday: La Push, Merino Wool & the Holiday Weekend Arrives
Friday morning, I woke up and was surprised to see that it was already 8:15 a.m. I whispered over to see if Donna was awake, and she was.
We got up and took our time getting ready. I had some oatmeal and coffee and—miraculously—remembered to take my meds before heading to the bathroom to change into my cycling gear and get the day started.
It was chilly, with temperatures in the low 50s, so I was glad I had packed my thermal sleeves. I also wore a long-sleeve shirt underneath my bike jersey for a little extra warmth.
There was just one problem.
I had forgotten my bike jacket.
Fortunately, I had at least packed my REI puffy jacket. It wasn’t exactly the most visible piece of cycling clothing, but it would keep me warm, and at that point I was willing to sacrifice visibility for not freezing my butt off.
We set off, heading north and then west once we got through Forks. I was surprised by how much traffic there was, especially once we turned onto La Push Road, which is essentially another small highway.
Thankfully, most drivers were considerate and gave us plenty of room.
As we rode toward La Push, the beautiful trees lining both sides of the road helped me settle into the ride. There is something about being surrounded by those enormous Northwest trees that makes it easy to stop thinking about everything else and simply enjoy the moment.
When we reached La Push, we stopped for lunch at a restaurant on the Quileute Reservation. I ordered a bowl of clam chowder along with French fries topped with brown gravy. Donna had fish and chips.
We sat next to the windows with a beautiful view of the sea stacks at First Beach.
Not a bad place for lunch.
After eating, we headed back toward the campground. When we reached Forks, however, I decided it was time to address the most pressing issue left over from Day 1:
SOCKS.
I stopped at the outfitter attached to the grocery store to see what I could find.
Success!
I found a reasonably priced pair of Merino wool socks.
Warm, cozy, dry socks.
Sometimes it’s the little things.
I also picked up a sandwich for dinner and then we continued back to the campground.
Once we got there, I changed into regular clothes and immediately put on my new socks.
They were wonderful.
Donna needed to get some work done and send an email, so we went looking for somewhere with Wi-Fi. We ended up at the Forks Visitor Center, which had free Wi-Fi and allowed Donna to get her work taken care of.
By this point, though, I was getting hungry again.
I had a sandwich sitting in my possession that was supposed to be dinner, but suddenly I wasn’t interested in a sandwich anymore.
I wanted pizza.
So we found a pizza place next to the outfitter and decided to give it a try.
I ordered a sausage personal pan pizza, while Donna ordered lasagna.
That pizza was fantastic.
In fact, I think it was one of the best personal pan pizzas I’ve ever had. The crust was just perfect—crisp on the outside, chewy on the inside—and I suspect they had one of those stone ovens because the crust reminded me of the pizza at Tutta Bella back in Seattle.
Sometimes you just have to listen to what your stomach is telling you.
And apparently mine was saying:
“Forget the sandwich. Get pizza.”
After dinner, we returned to the campground and settled into our tents, getting ready for bed.
And then the holiday weekend arrived.
Other campers began showing up, and if there’s one thing that can test my patience at a campground, it’s people arriving late at night.
I understand it. They probably had to work and couldn’t leave earlier. They finally made it to the campground, they’re tired, and they have to set up their tents or level their RVs.
I get it.
But understanding why something is happening and liking it are two completely different things.
It’s one of my camping pet peeves when people arrive after dark, shine their headlights directly into your tent, and aren’t exactly quiet while setting up camp.
The worst was a couple who arrived with a little boy who looked to be about two or three years old. I could tell he was completely amped up after being stuck in a car for a long drive. He was running around, hollering, and generally making his presence known to the entire campground.
His parents were doing their best to get him settled and keep him quiet while they put up their tent, so I knew they weren’t intentionally being obnoxious.
But still…
I was annoyed.
And you know what?
Understanding why something is happening and liking it are two different things.
Sue me.
Fortunately, there were no repeat performances from my digestive system that night. Everything behaved itself, and I slept solidly through the night.
In fact, I didn’t even wake up once to pee.
Considering how the previous night had gone, I’m calling that a major victory.
Saturday: The Olympic Discovery Trail & One Last Adventure
Saturday morning, I slept later than I wanted to. I didn’t get up until almost 7:00 a.m.
Originally, our plan had been to be ready to leave by then, but apparently my body decided I needed the extra sleep. Fortunately, it doesn’t take me long to get ready, so I wasn’t too bothered.
Besides, I figured leaving a little later might give things a chance to warm up.
It was even chillier than the day before, so I made the decision to wear my leggings over my bike tights.
I am so glad I did.
As we left the campground, I was still a little chilly. Actually, my fingers and toes were downright cold.
I have poor circulation, so cold fingers and toes aren’t exactly unusual for me, but I was still kicking myself for forgetting my full-finger cycling gloves. All I had with me were my fingerless gloves.
Not my brightest packing decision.
Before leaving Forks, I stopped for some coffee, although I wasn’t hungry yet. We still had about a 30-minute drive to where we planned to park and begin our ride on the Olympic Discovery Trail, heading east.
Once we parked and unloaded the bikes, I made sure my bike bag contained everything I might need: my sandwich, condiments, snacks, and a Diet Coke.
I figured I’d eat whenever my stomach finally decided it was time.
This was my first time riding this particular section of the Olympic Discovery Trail, and it did not disappoint.
The trail was paved and beautifully maintained by the Peninsula Trails Coalition. Root bumps were clearly marked, fallen trees had been cleared from the trail, and there were arrows showing the direction and turns along the small sections of road we had to use before picking the trail back up.
At one point, we even had to cross Highway 101.
But mostly, we were surrounded by trees.
So many beautiful pine trees and alder woods.
The air was so fresh that I could actually smell the pine as we rode.
It was gorgeous.
And something interesting happened as we rode: my mind became completely quiet.
I wasn’t daydreaming. I wasn’t thinking about what I needed to do later or worrying about anything.
I was simply riding through the forest, taking in the scenery and enjoying the moment.
I was completely present.
We rode about 20 miles to Crescent, Washington, ending at another trailhead situated a little past Devil’s Punch Bowl and the Spruce Railroad Tunnel.
There were quite a few people at the trailhead, many of them hiking toward Devil’s Punch Bowl. Others were on bikes and just getting ready to start their rides.
After using the pit toilet—which, let’s face it, is an important part of any long-distance cycling adventure—I found a log at the end of the trail and sat down to eat my sandwich.
I can’t eat very much much of the time these days, so I only ate half of it and saved the rest for later.
Then we turned around and headed back.
For some reason, the ride back seemed much faster than the ride out. This made absolutely no sense because we had a pretty long, winding incline to deal with.
Apparently, my brain had decided that the return trip was going to be shorter simply because we’d already seen everything.
Before I knew it, we were back where we’d started.
Our total ride was 40 miles round trip.
Donna and I loaded up our bikes and said our goodbyes since we’d driven separately. We ended up driving together for a while, until we reached Port Angeles.
That’s where we split up.
I decided to stop at Starbucks for a green tea lemonade while Donna continued on.
Then I remembered something else that had been on my list for quite a while.
Troll Haven in Sequim.
I’d been wanting to stop there, and somehow I kept forgetting.
Well, not this time.
Unfortunately, when I arrived, there was a private event taking place, so I couldn’t really explore the property. But I wasn’t going to let that stop me completely.
I slowly drove around the property, snapping pictures through the car window.
It looked like a really cool place, and now that I’ve finally found it, I’d definitely like to come back someday when I can actually walk around and explore it.
From there, I headed toward Kingston to catch the ferry back across Puget Sound.
Donna had managed to catch the 3:20 p.m. ferry.
I wasn’t quite that lucky.
I arrived in time for the 4:00 p.m. ferry, but even then, my wait was only about 20 minutes. That gave me enough time to sit in the car and listen to a little more of my audiobook.
As I waited, I found myself reflecting on the previous few days.
And you know what?
I was really glad I had done it.
If Donna hadn’t asked to join me, I honestly might have bailed on the whole thing. I didn’t really want to make the long drive by myself.
It’s about three and a half hours of driving each way, plus the ferry ride, and with gas prices as high as they are right now, it would have been very easy to talk myself out of the trip.
But I didn’t.
We went camping. We rode bikes. We explored new places. We survived rain, cold temperatures, forgotten gear, questionable socks, campground neighbors, and one particularly unfortunate digestive episode.
And somewhere along the way, I realized something:
Sometimes the adventures you almost don’t take are the ones you’re happiest you didn’t miss.
I’m really glad I went.
Until the Next Adventure
Three days.
Two nights of camping.
Forty miles on the Olympic Discovery Trail.
A trip to La Push.
A successful sock acquisition.
One excellent pizza.
One unexpected visit to Troll Haven.
And an unexpected orca show thrown in for good measure.
It wasn’t exactly the smoothest weekend I’ve ever had, but then again, smooth isn’t really what I look for in an adventure.
I think I’ll take the rain, the cold, the forgotten gear, the long drives, the ferry rides, and even the occasional camping mishap.
Because those are the things that eventually become the stories you remember.
And apparently, I have another story to add to the collection.
