Day 8: Welcome to Hoh

Said the friendly Park Ranger at the Park entrance. That’s “Hoh” with two h's, as in that noise you make when someone tells you something so idiotic all you can do is say "huh," except its "hoh" instead.

Today (written on the 8th, actually) was a sleep late day, followed by a trip to the local gouge-atorium for groceries. On the other hand, the cost of groceries was equal to the cost of ordering breakfast in the dining room, plus it will last for a few more days. Nothing like saving $5 when you’re getting nailed every day for far more than that in out-of-the way hotel rooms.

After a hearty breakfast I took a 30 minute walk on the beach. Lots of huge logs were seemingly piled all along the vegetation line. According to the park signs, these were originally trees near river banks in the forest that were uprooted during floods and eventually washed down river to the ocean. They’re bleached gray after so long in the sun, and look like the Navy mothball fleets, or like a fence separating the beach from inland. Being a native Houstonian, I was of course somewhat bewildered at first, wondering whether I was really at the beach. After all, I didn’t see any jellyfish, tar, seaweed, medical waste, Jack in the Box wrappers, or pickup trucks blaring Tejano, rap, or death metal music. Just a few families and the friendly Park Ranger who looks a lot like Fred Cantu. Mist was coming in from the ocean, but unlike the time I spent a night on the Sonoma County coast, this mist wasn’t a golden haze. It was still nice though. This beach has a lot of tidal pools, not unlike much of the Oregon coast. The Oregon coast is rockier and more varied, but this was a more user-friendly, lay out, build sand castles kind of beach. Anyway, about a half hour of beach walking and I was ready to move on.

After getting a diet coke and passing up the chance to buy $3.35/gallon regular gas, I start the 21 mile trip to the Hoh entrance road. BTW, “yall” is getting some odd looks around here. Not dirty looks, just odd. Oh, like I’m the weirdo around here. Then again, put these people in Austin, and they’re…actually, all these people are moving to Austin. My bad.

It’s a much nicer day than yesterday evening would have suggested. Its mostly clear, and its warmed up quite a bit, to around 67 or so. The drive is really spectacular. Some winding curves, and lots of straights, through tall cedar and spruce forest, with occasional coastline glimpses. I’d have loved to have my M3 on this road. Then, after turning off the main highway (101), there’s a 17 mile road leading to the Hoh River valley trails. Its much the same scenery, although there’s almost no commercial enterprise in sight.

I hiked a five mile portion (10 miles roundtrip) of the Hoh River Trail. It was a good 10 degrees warmer than the last two hikes, probably owing to the fact that this part of the Park is at approximately 580’ elevation, while Hurricane Ridge is about 5,000’ higher. Despite the fact that this is the Hoh Rain Forest, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky the entire 3 ½ hours. I was pretty disappointed. What’s the point of going to a rain forest if its not going to rain? I stayed in a rain forest on the west coast of the south island in New Zealand, and it rained cats and dogs all night and into part of the morning, then it cleared right up and I was able to visit the Punakaiki Rocks. Not so today.

The trail takes you through old growth cedars, hemlock, spruce, and some firs along the way. These are massive trees with extremely shallow roots (owing to the abundant water supplies I guess), and I see dozens that have been toppled over in storms lying about. Nearly everything is covered in moss and ferns. Moss hangs from nearly every tree branch, and it covers much of every tree trunk. The trail runs alongside the Hoh River, which is a typical mountain river with either bank consisting of thousands of rocks washed down from the upper mountains, as well as assorted dead trees. The water is crystal clear, and COLD. I see no trace of Pete Coors. Unlike the past two days, this trail is largely flat, with only slight elevation changes. Although 10 miles is the longest I’ve ever hiked in a day, it didn’t seem all that bad because this didn’t require much in the way of climbing.

At the risk of sounding like a snob, I have to say the Hoh Rain Forest didn’t quite live up to expectations. Really, if there were shorter trees, and if you added mosquitoes, snakes, about 15 degrees more heat, and a bunch of fat guys wearing “git-r-done” shirts drinking beer and grilling in the campsites, and you have pretty much every Louisiana state park. I guess if it had been raining, or at least wet, it may have seemed a little more auspicious. But this really paled in comparison to the previous two days’ memorable hikes. Or maybe I’m just sick of the whole thing.

After the hike, I head to lovely Forks to go to the one free market grocery store within 50 miles. Forks was at the center of the spotted owl controversy some time ago, and has lost a lot of logging jobs as a result. I see several fine looking motels advertising free wireless internet and cheaper rates, and berate myself for my poor lodging decision. Anyway, I head back to Kalaloch, via Ruby Beach. This is the location of “sea stacks,” which are basically huge erosion-created rocks right on the coast. Northern California and Oregon have a great many more of these than Ruby Beach. I arrived right at sunset, however, with the mist coming in off the ocean and the light changing colors from orange to pink to red, prompting me to take far too many pictures. I walked through tidal pools and streams to reach some of the stacks, again thanking Kirby for the many balancing exercises that enabled me not to wipe out on the slippery rocks I used to get across.

Tonight I bypassed the thoroughly mediocre and expensive dining room and feasted on self-made spinach and blackened snapper made in my cabin’s little kitchenette. Technically it wasn’t blackened as I didn’t use a cast iron skillet, but it was close. I love blackened seafood, but most places overwhelm the fish with seasoning. The point is to taste the fish, not the seasoning. Sear it about 1 ½ minutes on both sides, depending on thickness, then bake or broil for about 10 minutes, then eat. Even a lot of otherwise good restaurants, however, insist on cremating the fish and calling it “blackened.’ I lacked an oven, however, so I basically had to sauté it.

The weather held tonight, so I can see the stars. Its not quite the display you get in parts of the Hill Country or west Texas, but I can see the Milky Way. No, I can’t see Uranus.

I realize as I write this exactly how fascinating my life has become. If this keeps up, my future will involve wearing a lot of sweaters and yelling at pesky neighborhood kids who get in the prize-winning geranium patch I will create and obsessively tend. Happily, I’m the oldest of my brothers, so maybe one of them will let me have a room in their house and warn their kids not to go near me before it gets to that point.

Tomorrow-taking the day off (which is odd since I’m already on vacation), and driving to Port Townsend on US 101.