Day 87: Exploring the Grand Pacific!

August 4: I woke up especially early this morning to hit the trail by 7:00am, a couple of hours before low tide. I needed a tide lower than 1 foot to pass by Diamond Rock, which meant I needed to pass through during those couple of hours closest to low tide.

So I woke up at 6:00, just as fog started rolling in. It had been clear throughout the night, and I was even able to watch the moon rise near the time I was waking up, but I could only see it for about 10 minutes before the fog blotted it out completely. At least condensation hadn't been a problem.

 

View from camp just before I started hiking in the morning.

I walked the short way to the beach where immediately I had to struggle over and around driftwood, rocks and boulders. The going wasn't fast. In fact, it was positively slow. The obstacles were uneven and slippery and visibility was terrible. The wind was cold.

I followed the shoreline, eventually reaching access to an inland trail at what appeared to be a near-vertical cliff. There was an impassible headland just ahead along the shore--impossible to get around at even the lowest of tides. Nope, I had to head up onto the inland trail, and by the time I reached it, I was looking forward to getting off the difficult and challenging shore.

Access to trails is marked with an orange-redish and black circular marker, but it was the rope I noticed first, dangling down the impossibly steep trail up the hillside. "Oh, come on!" I shouted at the trail.

 

These markers helped mark access points that connected the beach to inland trails.

The ranger I had spoken with said that the park service doesn't actually install the ropes or maintain them and suggested that it's probably best not to commit my entire weight to them--just in case. They're put up by well-meaning hikers but unmaintained. But I still grabbed the rope and yanked it to get a sense of how strong it might be. It felt pretty solid, but at the same time, I decided to use it mostly for balance rather than to hold up my weight.

I scrambled up the steep slope--and it was a scramble requiring the use of my hands as much as my feet! It took several minutes to make it to the top of the slope, and the trail didn't improve much at the top. There were pits of mud that looked like they could swallow a person whole, rotten boardwalks and ladders, blowdowns and severely overgrown sections. 

It reminded me a lot of the West Coast Trail--which incidentally was located maybe 20 miles north across the border on Vancouver Island in Canada. It wasn't surprising that the terrain would be similar, but I didn't expect the same difficult trail conditions. The West Coast Trail was infamous for it's difficulty, but I hadn't heard the same about this region.

Although I had made it across the necessary beach at low tide, I didn't stop to rest. There was another obstacle ahead that concerned me a bit: Goodman Creek. I had camped next to Goodman Creek two nights earlier, but there was a nice bridge to walk across then. Out here, there was no bridge. The mouth of the river was considered too deep to cross safely--even at low tide--so the trail crossed a bit inland from the cost. Even then, however, my guidebook warned that the creek would be knee to waist-deep high. I figured it might depend on tidal fluctuation so I wanted to get through when the tide was low and hopefully only have a knee-deep ford to cross.

But it turned out not to be a big deal since I was able to cross with only ankle-deep water. And, in fact, the point where the trail crosses actually seemed to be above tidal influences. I could have crossed easily at any time of day. Maybe the water was deeper earlier in the year in the spring or after a big rainstorm because it certainly wasn't deep when I went by. 

Goodman Creek turned out not to be as much of an obstacle as I feared and I was able to cross in ankle-deep water.

 

I pushed onward, eventually descending back down to the beach with the help of a couple of strategically placed ropes.

This beach was nice and sandy--positively easy to walk on compared to most of what I had covered. Sandy beaches might be a little slow to traverse, but at least they were easy. I would try to walk near the surf where the beach was wet and the sand a little more firm, but I had to be careful of waves that could hit me.

Once I got past Goodman Creek, I stopped trying to rush. There was still another beach ahead that was considered impassible at tides below +4 feet, but it seemed unlikely I'd reach it before high tide which was supposed to reach +7 feet. My campsite, Scott Creek, was located on the far side of the beach, but I figured I could probably just wait out the high tide then continue a couple of hours later and set up camp at Scott Creek. That was my plan, at least.

So at this point, I had no particular rush and took my time walking along the beach and enjoying the views. As the morning progressed, the sun did pop out a little--especially around noon--but the fog had largely lifted and now it was just overcast with moderately strong winds blowing in cold air. Perfect vampire weather, I thought.

The beaches after Goodman Creek were crowded with lots of people. I was a little surprised at the number of people. Where did they all come from?! I had seen almost nobody on the trail before Goodman Creek, then bam! Tons of people! A couple who were walking along the beach told me that the trailhead from Third Beach was easily accessible and that's where most everyone came from.

I would be leaving the beaches at Third Beach tomorrow--so it sounded like I'd be seeing a lot of people for the rest of the afternoon.

The sandy beaches, by far, were the easiest sections of trail.

I arrived at Strawberry Point early in the afternoon--earlier than I had expected after I slowed and started taking my time--and it wasn't even high tide yet. Which was unfortunate, because it was the 1.1 miles between Strawberry Point and Scott Creek that I couldn't cross at high tide. I stood at the point, checking out the water level around the cove to the far side. I could practically see where my campsite was located, and it looked like maybe I could cross it at the moment, but I knew the tide was still rising. The shore along this stretch looked rocky and difficult, and I didn't want a rising tide to trap me somewhere along the way, so I decided to wait it out.

I looked for protection against the strong, cold winds blowing down the beach and saw a couple of people camped just within tree line, and I walked up asking if it was okay to join them for a couple of hours to wait for the tides to go back down. They said not a problem, and that was how I met Taylor and Jeremy.

Turns out, Taylor and Jeremy had recently finished thru-hiking the Colorado Trail--a trail I was quite familiar with having done it myself a few years back. It was their first thru-hike and they were anxious to do more. Originally they had planned to thru-hike the CDT but the pandemic put an end to that one before it even started. So they did the Colorado Trail instead, and apparently, so did a lot of other people. They thought that record numbers of people thru-hiked the Colorado Trail this year. Which made sense. I knew of at least a few people from online who had planned to thru-hike the PCT but later changed to the PNT because it was shorter and allowed a later start time. This year was the year of the "little" trail.

The campsite also included a whale memorial. A few bones from a washed up whale--it looked like a vertebra and a couple of ribs--were set up and adorned with shells, rocks, crab legs, and a variety of mostly-natural materials. It was really quite impressive.

Taylor and Jeremy said that someone else told them about a whale that had washed up on shore nearby the year before and that maybe the bones came from that. Certainly plausible. I grabbed a nearby leaf and turned it into a "leaf person" which I then added to the whale memorial. =)

The whale memorial in camp.

We chatted for hours, sharing our various war stories and I had a wonderful afternoon kicking back just socializing. And with other thru-hikers, no less! Not PNT hikers, but still... actual thru-hikers! These were my people!

A few hours later, the high tide had come and gone. The tide was still high, but it was going down now. I got up to check out the shoreline and it seemed to be passable again--but if there was some section that wasn't, at least the tide was going down. It wouldn't be long before it would become passable. It was time to go.

Except.... I didn't want to. I really enjoyed hanging out with Taylor and Jeremy all afternoon, and chatting with them all evening seemed like a lot more fun than camping by myself another mile up the coast. My permit was for Scott Creek, not Strawberry Point, but what difference did that extra mile make? I could just make it up tomorrow. =)

Turned out, Strawberry Point wasn't even where Taylor and Jeremy were supposed to be camped. Their permit was for the next campsite to the south, a couple of miles to the south, and we joked that if "averaged" our campsites, then we were all supposed to camp there at Strawberry Point. Sounded good to me! =) And while there were certainly other people around, it's not like the the area was so crowded with people that we were kicking other people out of the area.

So I set up camp nearby. Once I decided to stop there for the night, I put up my tarp. It wasn't supposed to rain, but the wind was strong and cold so I set up my tarp to act as a wind break. And we continued our conversation until well after dark.

The trail had been brutal today, the weather cold and overcast, but I had really enjoyed the day despite all that. Life was good! =)

Beaches with so much driftwood were a challenge to navigate!

Giant, slippery boulders weren't much better and slowed me down considerably.

Even with fog, the views were still impressive!

Lots of tiny little crabs! See this one in the middle of the photo?

See the bald eagle in the tree? I could have gotten a much better photo if it wasn't for the thick fog!

My footsteps on the beach. =)

A near-vertical slope with a rope helps people onto the inland trail.

The mud was terrible!

Blowdowns also slowed my progress! I had to take off my pack and push it under this blowdown to get by.

This section of trail looks like it collapsed in a landslide and an informal trail now leads around it.

Climbing down this... staircase? Was a little nerve-wracking without a rail to hold onto. Yes, that IS the trail! *shaking head* What I like about this photo is that you can clearly see how steep some of these slopes are. I'd never have looked at this slope and though, you know, I think we can get a trail through  that.

I followed this deer family down the trail for about 10 minutes until they finally got off the trail near Mosquito Creek Camp.

That's Mosquito Creek, flowing into the Pacific. This was supposed to be where I was going to camp last night if the tide hadn't gotten in my way.

The Pacific coast here IS gorgeous, even if the trail is rough going much of the time!

Another inland trail access point

The trail crossed along this log. The lack of hand rails kind of bothered me, though!

Goodman Creek

Should I be worried that my GPS shows me as being 32 feet under sea level?

I have no idea who that is on the rock. Just one of many people I would pass after reaching the busy beaches past Goodman Creek.

Day 86: To the Pacific!

September 3: I had a relatively easy day planned--only about 13 or 14 miles, and all of it was road walk. Quiet, gravel roads. An easy day for sure, but probably a boring one too.

So I took my time waking up. The condensation during the night had been terrible. I threw my tarp over me like a blanket, but it was soaking wet. I had set up camp under some trees that hung over the road which I had hoped would protect me from condensation from the night, but this particular species seemed to absorb water like a sponge then drip it down onto me making it sound like it was actually raining! I didn't know what kind of trees these were, but I made a mental note to not camp under them anymore. The usual pine trees I'm around weren't dripping water like it was raining.

I filled up with water at Goodman Creek before starting the day's hike.

I hoped the sun would rise high enough to dry some of it before hitting the trail, but I largely failed in that regard. By 8:30, I was ready to hit the trail again and my tarp was just as sopping wet as when I first woke up. I'd have to stop at some point during the day to dry it out. Which wouldn't be a problem given how few miles I had to complete.

I filled up with water from Goodman Creek before hitting the trail. There would be water sources today, but they weren't water sources that I particularly liked. These creeks were running through farms and other civilization. I scanned my map looking for creeks that appeared to be short and hopefully less contaminated, limiting which water sources I could drink from. But at the same time, Goodman Creek was one of the bigger water sources through this area with a source that went off my map. Some of the smaller creeks could be dry. So I filled up with water, but dropped some iodine tablets in the water just in case. But I intended to dump out the water and replace it with better stuff if I could find some further up the trail.

I walked for a couple of hours before taking my first break. I laid out my tarp and groundsheet in the sun while I rested in the shade of nearby trees. I read my Kindle for a couple of hours before packing up and continuing.

I took another hour-plus break just before Oil City Road. On my map, that road looked a bit bigger and perhaps busier than the ones I had been walking, so I took another extended break before then while the breaking was good.

Oil City Road followed more-or-less parallel to the Hoh River on its journey to the Pacific Ocean. 

Oil City Road followed more-or-less parallel
to the Hoh River on its way to the Pacific Ocean.

 

And now, I needed to find a place to camp. I had a permit to camp at Mosquito Creek Camp tonight in Olympic National Park--which was several miles away and would be easy to reach under normal circumstances, but the beach just before it wasn't passable except at low tides, which happened about the time I left camp this morning. Basically, it was physically impossible for me to reach my campsite before dark. Maybe after dark when the other low tide for the day happened, but I had no intention of hiking at night--and I wasn't even sure if the evening tide would be low enough for me to pass. (The morning low tides were lower than the evening low tides.)

So I definitely wasn't going to make my designated campsite, but I had to camp somewhere!

I had hoped to find a campsite just outside of the park boundaries, along the logging roads I had been walking along all day. Perfectly legal and official. Except.... as I got near the boundary, I started seeing civilization. Houses. Actual houses! Out here in the middle of what I thought was nowhere! I even saw an older woman going for a walk, and the property on both sides of the road were often lined with "trespassers will be shot" type of signs--definitely not areas I wanted to be camping in.

I pushed onward, eventually reaching the boundary of Olympic National Park. I figured I may as well just camp within the park boundaries. Technically, it would be illegal since camping was only allowed at designated campsites with a permit. Not only were there no campsites nearby, but even if there were, my permit was only good for the Mosquito Creek Camp ahead.

But this was a quiet trailhead with a small parking lot and no sign of rangers. It didn't seem like it would be a big problem if I set up camp late in the afternoon and left first thing in the morning. Nobody would ever even know I was there.

At the trailhead, a real hiking trail meandered through the forest, and I followed it further until it eventually led to a beach at the mouth of the Hoh River where it drained into the wide-open Pacific Ocean. I could see and hear the waves crashing on shore and sea stacks rise in the distance. I had reached the Pacific! I did it! From the Continental Divide to the Pacific! I could quit now! Just kidding.... Although I had reached the Pacific, I hadn't yet reached the end of the trail. The actual end of the trail was something like 40 miles north up the coast at Caep Alava and the western-most point of land of the contiguous United States.

This was the view from camp at the mouth of the Hoh River where it drains into the Pacific Ocean. I could even see the waves on the Pacific!

 

People, when I told them I was hiking the PNT, would often ask where it started and ended, and it was a little amusing how my answers have changed. At first I would tell them it ended at the "Olympics." But when I reached the Olympic Peninsula, that didn't seem like an adequate answer--I was already there! So then I started telling people that I was heading to the "Pacific Ocean!" But now I had reached it. It would seem odd to people asking where the trail ended if I answered the Pacific Ocean. So I decided I'd have to start answering Cape Alava. Very specific, and if they didn't know where that was, I'd just say it was a little ways up the coast.

Anyhow, looking around the beach, I decided that the beach was a bad place to camp. I didn't know for certain how high the tide might get during the night and I wanted to make sure I stayed well above the high tide line. Instead, I backtracked a bit to the trail along the Hoh River and set up camp on a small cliff over the river edge. It was a nice location, and I could still see the Pacific Ocean in the distance and listen to the waves crashing. It was a nice campsite.

And hopefully, no ranger would come by during the night to bust me, or at least if they did, they'd be understanding about why I was camped on this side of the beach instead of the Mosquito Creek side.

Nearly the whole day was walking through areas set off for logging, passing through areas of clear-cut to mature trees that could be logged at any time... and at varying stages between those extremes.

The dust ahead was kicked up by a vehicle that had just passed by. (There was, on average, about one vehicle passing by each hour.)

I'm still convinced that there's a PNT hiker ahead of me on the trail doing this to rocks. Who else would be hiking out on these logging roads?!

I didn't see any livestock, but I know they're out there!

Really? Is this sign a joke? =)

My first view of the Pacific!

Day 85: The Long Ride to Nowhere....

September 2: In the morning, I looked out the window--it was overcast, dreary and perfect vampire weather. And I made a decision.... I would miss my campsite for tomorrow night. 

Tonight was an open night where I could camp more-or-less anywhere I wanted to along the trail. I was outside of Olympic National Park and didn't need a permit, but starting tomorrow night, I expected to be within the park boundaries again and subject to the permit system. Which meant in the next two days, I had to cover nearly 30 miles to keep up with my permit. That's not too bad--only 15 miles per day, and most of it was easy walking on gravel logging roads. It had been a good plan when I first worked it out. What I had not worked into my plan, however, were the tides. There was a beach at Oil City, the ranger told me, that could only be crossed when the tide was below 1 foot. Which happened early in the morning.

It was an overcast and dreary morning in Forks--perfect vampire weather!

 

To make it to my campsite tomorrow night, I needed to cross that beach tomorrow morning, but the beach was about 25 miles away. I'd need to do 25 miles today, then only have 4 miles to do tomorrow. That breakdown sucked. But it occurred to me that if I did that 25 miles before the beach over two days, I could catch up with my schedule by adding the last 4 miles to the next day--which seemed doable. Then I'd have about 12 to 13 miles today and tomorrow, followed by a 15-mile day on the third day. Which I liked a lot better than a 25-mile day followed by a 4-mile day followed by an 11 mile-day.

So I deliberately planned to miss my first night at Mosquito Creek Camp and camp the next two nights outside of the park. And that decision meant that I didn't have to leave first thing in the morning anymore. I could hike 10 to 15 miles today instead of the 25 miles I otherwise would have had to do to keep to my schedule. Now I could sleep in late and hang around town all morning. And while it was overcast and dreary now, the weather was expected to clear up in the afternoon. All-in-all, I liked my new plan better. =)

Checkout time at the hotel was 11:00am, so I lingered there using every last minute I could to stay in the warm, dry room--and safe from the vampires surely lurking around the town on such a dreary morning.

Once I lost my room, I got lunch across the street at Sully's Burgers. And, at that point, I figured I may as well hit the trail. There wasn't really any other reason to hang around town anymore.

But then it started sprinkling. Rain?! Really? That wasn't in the weather forecast! I ducked under an overhang of "Native to Twilight," a clothing store. There was a bench outside--probably for husbands who didn't want to shop for clothes in a Twilight-themed store--so I sat on the bench in an attempt to wait out the sprinkles. I wrote postcards and read my Kindle to kill the time.

The sprinkling stopped...mostly, but the air still felt wet and I wasn't sure if it would resume. I had to get hiking eventually, though, so I walked over to the post office and mailed the postcards, then pulled out my phone to call for an Uber. I didn't want to try hitchhiking if I didn't have to!

Except Uber reported that there were no drivers currently available. Not a huge surprise, I suppose. It's not like Forks is a huge city with lots of drivers. So then I pulled up the Lyft app and tried there, but again, they couldn't find any nearby drivers.

Well, shoot.

Before Forks became famous for vampires and werewolves, it was a big logging town.

Then I thought that maybe I could take a bus. So I walked over to the transit center to look up schedules and bus routes. There was information about one route that circled around town, but it didn't head south to Bogachiel SP where I needed to go. When a bus pulled up, I asked the driver about how to get to Bogachiel SP, but he didn't know.

Well, shoot.

I finally gave up on paying for a ride out of town and decided I'd have to hitchhike after all. I decided to walk to the south end of town and hitch from there.

I pulled up some music on my phone and listened to it while car after car passed me by.

An hour later, I was still stuck in Forks. It's like the Hotel California, I thought, which just came up on my playlist. You can check in but you can never leave.... I was sure the vampires planned it that way.

I decided to try the ride-sharing apps again, but struck out again with both. Still no drivers available. I really needed to get out of town today. I had a permit that required my camping at specific sites when I re-entered Olympic National Park, and I really needed to hit those marks. I was willing to miss that first night knowing I could catch up the next night, but I couldn't be missing two nights. I'd never catch up to my schedule then!

A bigger than life logger!

 

By 2:00, I had made a decision. I needed to start walking. It was 5 or so miles back to the trail from this end of town, and it would probably take nearly two hours to get back along a horrible and busy road walk, but that would still give me enough time to get the 10 to 15 miles of trail miles done before sunset. Just barely enough time, but enough. Maybe I'd get lucky and someone driving down the road would see me and take pity and pick me up. Mostly for kicks, I pulled out a twenty-dollar bill from my wallet and attached it to my pack. Maybe they'll improve the odds of someone pulling over to pick me up. I'd have happily paid $20 to get a ride to the trail, although I doubt someone driving at highway speeds would probably even notice a twenty hanging off my pack.

The road was horrible, but at least it had a fairly nice shoulder to walk on. That's the only good thing I can say about it. After an hour into the walk, I put the twenty hanging off my pack back into my wallet. I was close enough to the trail that I wasn't going to give anyone money for such a short ride. It wasn't worth $20 to me anymore.

And I finally reached the road intersection where I got off the trail yesterday at about 3:30 in the afternoon. I was still bitter about the walk back to the trail, but I was back on track and no longer dependent on others. The sky had finally cleared up as well with just a few puffy white clouds against an otherwise deep blue sky. I was safe from vampires again. Whew.

I had reached the trail, but it wasn't the end of my highway walk. The PNT continued to follow Highway 101 another 0.9 miles up the road and across the Bogachiel River before turning off onto logging roads. The logging roads led away from the highway and the noise from the traffic dissipated. Calm and happiness settled over me. This was it. This was my last bit of trail. Forks was my last resupply point. The next shower I took, if all went well, would be at home after I finished the trail.

The skies finally started clearing during the walk back to the trail.

The rest of the day, I followed logging roads. It wasn't particularly interesting or exciting. I turned from one road to another and another, each one becoming progressively less used and more overgrown. As sunset approached, it grew increasingly dark under the thick canopy and I struggled to get photos. I had to stop soon!

Then the trail dumped out on a nice, wide gravel road--clearly well-used and well-maintained--and the dark canopy disappeared. The sun was low on the horizon--sunset was imminent, but it gave me a little while more to find a place to camp.

I finally stopped when I reached Goodman Creek, setting up camp on the side of the road. I had completed almost 17 miles of walking for the day, but barely 10 of them were actually on the PNT. The rest were walking around in Forks then the walk between Forks and the trail.

But I was back on track and things were looking up!

Back on the trail and crossing the Bogachiel River over a bridge along Highway 101.

This snake was trying to hide from me under the leaf, but he didn't do a very good job of it!

The logging roads were largely boring to walk along, but at least it wasn't busy with traffic!

Sunset was near.... I needed to find a campsite soon!

This bridge crosses over Goodman Creek, and I camped on the side of the road near here.

View of the sunset from my campsite.