Salt Creek
After a false start and a couple of wrong turns, we sailed into the campground going one way the wrong way. Sandy the camp host came out to yell at us "oh, it's YOU GUYS, of course." which kind of set the tone for the weekend. I was SOOO happy to see her after over a year. Mike & I somehow set up the tent by arguing, then settled in and was entertained with hours of stories about the raccoons, fishing, city folk...
Despite being a frustratingly regulated campground compared to our usual clearing in federal forest land, Salt Creek's wildlife made it worth it.
I got fairly close to a deer and her twin fawns, had a chipmunk sitting on my fingers while it devoured a peanut. My fellows continued Operation Soggy Mattress to include the adults, anyone who slept well over the weekend was eyed with suspicion, as they insured the marauding raccoons visited everyone's tent, often fighting next to them. Raccoons fighting is bone-chilling when you don't know what it is, and annoying at best. NOT something most people would sleep through unless your snoring actually drowned them out.
We saw a harbor seal napping on the rocks, a sea lion playing in the kelp forest, I MIGHT have seen an otter, but it was hard to tell, numerous sea birds and herons, and a massive pod of Dall's porpoises fishing by the ferry on the way home.
Of course there were the tidepools. Chitons, anemones, crabs, hermit crabs, mussels as big as your forearm, snails, limpets, a few sea stars, sculpins... I went to pick up a hermit crab and came up with just its shell. it immediately started fighting another hermit crab to get it's shell. I put the shell back, the crab crawled back in, and peace was restored. Oops.
Sandy got the kayaks out of storage so we could use them. Eh, what the hell. Only time you'll see me wearing pink is in that dang life jacket. Adam volunteered to go with me, but got munched into the rocks by a wave and called it quits 20 feet from the put in, I think it would have been different if I'd know how badly he got hurt, I saw him flip, but didn't know he'd been banged against the rocks, I feel bad for leaving him to climb back up to the campsite. I was already 20 yards out, thought back to all the diaries I'd read of people paddling the South Pacific, the entire west coast, and Puget Sound alone. A mile around Crescent Bay by myself was not a big deal. I found my stride quickly, the initial anxiety I had getting through the surf dissipated, and 50 yards out I was feeling pretty good floating over the tops of the kelp forest. Two other kayakers met me at the entrance to the bay, I gave a first-timer some pointers at her request: Separate your upper and lower body movements, keep your paddle in the water, face trouble head on, don't let the waves hot you sideways. Her name was Oceana. We joked she was sort of socially obligated to be out there.
We parted ways and I headed toward the kelp forest on the other side of the point. I heard Oceana call out "I think your friend is coming!" Sure enough, my Partner In All Things was paddling for the first time in ten years. I met him, he was grumpy. Complained about the boat being the wrong size, and how I shouldn't be out here alone and how I TOTALLY OWED HIM ONE. Pfft.
We paddled around the kelp forest and the island, then surfed in toward the take out. Well, I caught a wave and was totally hauling ass into shore. "WOooHOOOO!" then I started to go sideways... shitshitshit *maytag*. No injuries, the bottom was sand, just the indignity of everyone see me go over, I got lots of compliments.
Mike glided past me on a wave all the way into shore while I dragged my swamped boat to the beach, dumped it, and we walked the kayaks up the creek.
The next day Shar agreed to go out with me, and we put in at Salt creek instead of the rocky shoreline, I suppose if we'd done that the day before Adam would have slightly more skin, be in less pain, and probably enjoyed himself a lot more. As it was, Shar and I's experience was almost tropical: around the island, looking at rocks in the sand, sunburn, sea birds.... I think Shar would have headed for Canada if I hadn't distracted her by checking out closer landmarks. Despite no one else volunteering to come paddle, once we got back to the creek the children AND adults from our group all wanted a turn. They stayed out of the surf though, no one else flipped.
I made nettle tea for Sandie, which came out surprisingly good, I'd been a little hesitant as they were a different species than what I usually used. I threw the boiled leaves in the dinner I made with eggs, potatoes, lamb and cheese, turned out great, though Bill didn't want any because of the nettles. The rest of the campers assured him that I'd even got the kids to eat them just toasted over the fire. In retrospect, it's generally not too hard to get kids to eat something, especially if they think it MIGHT be bad for them.
Saturday night we all went out to watch the sunset at the point, then there was raccoons, debauchery, stories, people behaving badly, and a massive feast of shellfish purchased by Jason and Adam.
Our departure on Sunday was somewhat dependent on our cigarette supply, which Bob generously delayed, everyone sat in the sunshine and chatted. Eventually we headed East, stopping at Fat Smitty's for a burger. There was a two-hour wait for the Edmonds ferry, which gave us time to hang out some more with Bill, Jason, Kayte and the kids who coincidentally ended up coming into town within ten cars of us. It also meant we had time to get crepes from the little window by the ferry dock. My second favorite place to eat on the peninsula, the first, of course is C'est Si Bon, the French restaurant in Port Angeles.
After spending hours out at the ocean looking for sea mammals over the weekend, a huge pod of Dall's porpoises was fishing around the ferry on the way back. Mount Rainier stood tall to the South, Baker to the North, the low sun reflected off an Amtrak train as it headed along the shore, and it wasn't even cold. "Mike, we're still in the game." I joked.
Despite being a frustratingly regulated campground compared to our usual clearing in federal forest land, Salt Creek's wildlife made it worth it.
I got fairly close to a deer and her twin fawns, had a chipmunk sitting on my fingers while it devoured a peanut. My fellows continued Operation Soggy Mattress to include the adults, anyone who slept well over the weekend was eyed with suspicion, as they insured the marauding raccoons visited everyone's tent, often fighting next to them. Raccoons fighting is bone-chilling when you don't know what it is, and annoying at best. NOT something most people would sleep through unless your snoring actually drowned them out.
We saw a harbor seal napping on the rocks, a sea lion playing in the kelp forest, I MIGHT have seen an otter, but it was hard to tell, numerous sea birds and herons, and a massive pod of Dall's porpoises fishing by the ferry on the way home.
Of course there were the tidepools. Chitons, anemones, crabs, hermit crabs, mussels as big as your forearm, snails, limpets, a few sea stars, sculpins... I went to pick up a hermit crab and came up with just its shell. it immediately started fighting another hermit crab to get it's shell. I put the shell back, the crab crawled back in, and peace was restored. Oops.
Sandy got the kayaks out of storage so we could use them. Eh, what the hell. Only time you'll see me wearing pink is in that dang life jacket. Adam volunteered to go with me, but got munched into the rocks by a wave and called it quits 20 feet from the put in, I think it would have been different if I'd know how badly he got hurt, I saw him flip, but didn't know he'd been banged against the rocks, I feel bad for leaving him to climb back up to the campsite. I was already 20 yards out, thought back to all the diaries I'd read of people paddling the South Pacific, the entire west coast, and Puget Sound alone. A mile around Crescent Bay by myself was not a big deal. I found my stride quickly, the initial anxiety I had getting through the surf dissipated, and 50 yards out I was feeling pretty good floating over the tops of the kelp forest. Two other kayakers met me at the entrance to the bay, I gave a first-timer some pointers at her request: Separate your upper and lower body movements, keep your paddle in the water, face trouble head on, don't let the waves hot you sideways. Her name was Oceana. We joked she was sort of socially obligated to be out there.
We parted ways and I headed toward the kelp forest on the other side of the point. I heard Oceana call out "I think your friend is coming!" Sure enough, my Partner In All Things was paddling for the first time in ten years. I met him, he was grumpy. Complained about the boat being the wrong size, and how I shouldn't be out here alone and how I TOTALLY OWED HIM ONE. Pfft.
We paddled around the kelp forest and the island, then surfed in toward the take out. Well, I caught a wave and was totally hauling ass into shore. "WOooHOOOO!" then I started to go sideways... shitshitshit *maytag*. No injuries, the bottom was sand, just the indignity of everyone see me go over, I got lots of compliments.
Mike glided past me on a wave all the way into shore while I dragged my swamped boat to the beach, dumped it, and we walked the kayaks up the creek.
The next day Shar agreed to go out with me, and we put in at Salt creek instead of the rocky shoreline, I suppose if we'd done that the day before Adam would have slightly more skin, be in less pain, and probably enjoyed himself a lot more. As it was, Shar and I's experience was almost tropical: around the island, looking at rocks in the sand, sunburn, sea birds.... I think Shar would have headed for Canada if I hadn't distracted her by checking out closer landmarks. Despite no one else volunteering to come paddle, once we got back to the creek the children AND adults from our group all wanted a turn. They stayed out of the surf though, no one else flipped.
I made nettle tea for Sandie, which came out surprisingly good, I'd been a little hesitant as they were a different species than what I usually used. I threw the boiled leaves in the dinner I made with eggs, potatoes, lamb and cheese, turned out great, though Bill didn't want any because of the nettles. The rest of the campers assured him that I'd even got the kids to eat them just toasted over the fire. In retrospect, it's generally not too hard to get kids to eat something, especially if they think it MIGHT be bad for them.
Saturday night we all went out to watch the sunset at the point, then there was raccoons, debauchery, stories, people behaving badly, and a massive feast of shellfish purchased by Jason and Adam.
Our departure on Sunday was somewhat dependent on our cigarette supply, which Bob generously delayed, everyone sat in the sunshine and chatted. Eventually we headed East, stopping at Fat Smitty's for a burger. There was a two-hour wait for the Edmonds ferry, which gave us time to hang out some more with Bill, Jason, Kayte and the kids who coincidentally ended up coming into town within ten cars of us. It also meant we had time to get crepes from the little window by the ferry dock. My second favorite place to eat on the peninsula, the first, of course is C'est Si Bon, the French restaurant in Port Angeles.
After spending hours out at the ocean looking for sea mammals over the weekend, a huge pod of Dall's porpoises was fishing around the ferry on the way back. Mount Rainier stood tall to the South, Baker to the North, the low sun reflected off an Amtrak train as it headed along the shore, and it wasn't even cold. "Mike, we're still in the game." I joked.