3/27/13 -- Short Trip into Adventure

Last week we took a trip around the Olympic Peninsula to see Adina's parents, her sister, to attend a Quileute drum circle in La Push and to enjoy the winter storm at the ocean.  As usual, we had no idea of the kind of adventures we were going to have.

Now we're home safe and relatively sound.  I can't wait to tell you about our journey.  This gives me a great opportunity to share some new images of Washington state.

When we left on our little trip, we were excited about the signs of spring we had already found on our short jaunts here in Vancouver.   Green grass was getting greener.  Some of the bushes were showing signs of new leaves.  Nobody was budding yet but the plants and trees were clearing considering the possibility.  We had more days in the low 60's than the 50's.  The sun had some warmth in it.   

Our first stop was a visit in Seattle to see Adina's parents.  We were amazed to see blossoms everywhere.  The trees were making flowers faster than they could make pollen.  I caught this tree blooming next to the building where the folks live.




held close like a shawl
pink blossoms cloak her shoulders
sign of spring and hope

I guess big cities are always warmer than smaller places.  Another difference is that the folks live on the Salish Sea which makes for warmer weather.  Those of us that live inland with only the Columbia River for warmth are clearly at a disadvantage. 

At Wesley Terrace they have a grotto where the residents can go for coffee/tea/ice cream.  The four of us trooped down there and then I hurried for my camera.  The rhodys were in full bloom.  Dad said they were almost done.  Ours aren't due to bloom until May/June. 

Rhodys are so beautiful.  Flowers cover the bushes in spring.  I hesitate to call them bushes though that's what they are according to Gardening Masters.  In the forests, wild rhodys grow as tall as a ranch house roof.  We've tented beneath them in an old canvas umbrella tent, if you remember what those were like.

A rhody bloom, one of maybe fifty on this single bush

The azalea bushes, nearly a hedge of them, sported pale pink blossoms.  I was most surprised to find a camellia bush in bloom.  I'd forgotten that they burst out this early.  This bloom was so exquisite, I had to capture it.

Camellia flower

Some flowers really do have to be captured.  Some brave soul had clearly fought a mighty battle for these flowers, for they had to be caged to protect the innocent.  I found their prison by Wesley's dining room.



living in a cage
caught by a Master Gardener
dangerous flowers

Whenever we visit the folks, they always used to take us down to Salt Water State Park.  Now that they are no longer driving, it is our pleasure to take them there, a treat for all of us.  It is only a few miles from where they live, an easy access to a lovely beach on the Salish Sea.  We had clouds the day we went but it is beautiful in any weather.

I can show you the picture.  I wish I could  publish the smell. 
Salt water, ocean air that has brushed the mountain tops, seaweed and something else.
It's the smell of home.

After spending a night with Adina's sister, Barbara, we took a ferry across the Salish Sea.  The Olympic Mountains were out in all their glory.  They are too big, too long to capture in a single photo, especially on a day with a bit of haze.  I did snap a picture of a few of these beauties along with a passing tugboat.

These tugboats tow barges so long that it makes them look like toys.
They are also used as pilot boats to bring large cargo vessels through these shipping lanes.

We crossed the Hood Canal Bridge, a long floating bridge.  We had read a two line item about it when we still in Wisconsin, something about it collapsing.  It must have been a doozy of a collapse because the whole bridge has been rebuilt on sleek modern lines.  We didn't recognize it and, at first, weren't sure we were in the right place. 
 
Our next stop was La Push on the northwestern coast of the state.  It's about 20 minutes west of Forks.  Our friends from La Push, members of the Quileute nation, had invited us to attend their weekly drum circle and to enjoy the winter storms.  The weather people predicted a storm and we were excited about seeing our friends, Renee and Chas, and sharing the circle with them.

Our little cabin was adorable -- a table and chairs, a bed and a wood stove with wood supplied.  It was a good thing too, as the weather on the coast was cold, pushing 30 degrees at night.  Our little wood stove kept us toasty. 


Our little cabin -- great place to stay!

It reminded me of the years we had a hearth stove and heated our house with wood.  Mostly, we didn't buy wood in those days.  We scrounged it.  Pete's grandpa, Carl, used to say that wood warmed you four times: 1-when you cut it, 2-when you bucked it out, 3-when you split it and 4-when you burned it.  I found his words of wisdom to be pure gold true.

In front of our cabin was a grassy area with lots of trees.  Between the cabins across it we could see the ocean.  The grass was so green and looked so soft, I could have rolled in it.  Except that the temperature was in the thirties and the wind chill felt Arctic as it howled and shoved.  The storm had arrived on schedule.

a lush green space blessed by salt air and sea-going fog banks
the moss is very healthy this year

A huge Douglas fir had washed up on the beach.  We've heard that they are uprooted during winter storms, then are washed down the rivers to the sea.  The ocean carries them where it wishes and deposits them on coastal beaches.  This tree was so  big that we were able to walk into it and shelter from the storm. 

This tree is so big I could have camped in it. 
It is so big that, if I had gotten the whole tree in the picture,
I'd have been an unrecognizable pink dot.

That night we attended the drum circle.  It was a wonderful experience.  Different tribal members invited one or another to sit in a chair in the center because of some special thing they had done, a kind of recognition and thank you bundled together.  Several people who had birthdays were so honored.  One family whose daughter had been tragically killed in an accident sat in the circle while the tribe comforted them.  Each time, people joined together to sing special songs.  That circle was clearly sacred ground, a place of joy and healing.

Sometimes, when no one was sitting in the circle, people got up and danced.  In one dance, two little boys danced the raven dance, wearing cedar raven masks carved to their size.  Or maybe they were wolves.  When the women danced, old women, teenagers, little girls and everything in between joined the circle.  It wasn't a performance. They were stepping in the footsteps of their ancestors, moving through patterns that their people had danced for thousands of years. 

We felt so honored to be there.  I took no pictures because I didn't want to be disrespectful.

And of course, it was good to see Renee, Chas and their daughter again.  We made some new friends too.  The Quileute are such a welcoming community, we felt humbled to be with them.  They are working hard to be a caring, open community.

The storm was still in evidence the following morning when we headed for home.  I watched it come from somewhere on the ocean to the west.  I saw sun and storm all at the same time.  The next ocean pictures were taken about 10 am, even though they look as if nightfall is near. 

I love ocean storms
They make me feel alive

The waves were wild, crashing like an orchestral percussion section.  The wind howled.  Okay, I know that's a cliche but its a true one.  That's what the wind did.  It howled and threatened to blow me over.  Or away.

 

The waves were so ferocious
I could feel them through the soles of my feet
Grandmother Ocean is restles today

Then the sun slid behind the storm clouds and I watched it move toward me.  I didn't have all my rain gear on so I waited until the last possible moment before racing for the cabin.  By the time I got there, I was wet through and had snow dusting my shoulders.

The islands that mark the entrance to the La Push harbor
James Island is sacred to the Quileute people

We didn't get off until noon because we visited with several of our Quileute friends.  By that time, we'd decided to take an extra day going home.

The snow hit us with every ridge we crossed.  Sometimes it was snow mixed with rain, sometimes with sleet, often with hail.  This was spring weather for the Washington coast.    I felt like a million bucks driving it and we thoroughly enjoyed our day.

We spent the night at Long Beach, one of our favorite tourist places.  That's where the beach is 30 miles long and you can drive on it.  After turning our noses up at several pricey motels we found a sweet one called My Place at the Beach that didn't cost too much.  Love those winter rates.

We thought we were done sightseeing as we began our last day, a drive along the Columbia River on the Washington side.  On our way, we saw a cranberry bog.  They are such a vibrant red this time of year.  The sun came out just long enough for me to snap a picture.  Washingtonians call that a sun-break.

Cranberries from this bog must taste as sweet as their color

The route that takes us inland along the Columbia River is part of the Lewis and Clark Trail.  We learned a lot from the signs along the way, especially those at Dismal Niche where we ate our lunch.  The Columbia River is five miles wide here.  Coming from the ocean, the mouth of the Columbia is the 5th most treacherous entry into a river in the world.  It's floor is dotted with wrecks. 

Thousands of people cross the Columbia River here on the Astoria Bridge.  The high arched part is so ships can pass beneath it.  I couldn't get the whole bridge on my picture.

The Astoria Bridge, part of it anyway
The tall part on the right side of the picture is so high
that an ocean-going freighter piled with cargo boxes
can pass beneath it with ease

On the way, we spotted the Columbia White Deer Wildlife Refuge.  The sign said the road was closed but as far as we could see it was open so we headed off for a side trip.  The sun was in and out and so was the rain and sometimes, snow.  The road was only wide enough for a single vehicle but no one else was around so that was okay.



The deserted road in the Wildlife Refuge

A heron stood on a log to watch us pass.  He soon went back to fishing, protected from the stormy wind by a fallen tree.

The heron who posed for me is the grey bit on the left
Note that you can also see his reflection in the water
a still moment in an eddy of the Columbia River

This part of the Columbia River is riddled with islands, islets and sandbars.  Canadian geese, mallards and bufflehead ducks moved between them with the ease of a city pedestrian crossing a street.

 

Canadian geese, three goslings and two bufflehead ducks

Soon the storm pushed in to the point I couldn't take pictures any more. We drove back to the main road in a pounding rain.  We puddled on slowly and carefully in our Ford Explorer.  I didn't want to hit any wildlife that showed up suddenly whether they had feathers, four legs or two.  The rain and storm didn't bother this tug any though.

A minute before I took this picture, the air was clear
The heavens opened and dumped heavy rain/snow on us
but I took the picture anyway

We were happy to be home.  It is such a joy to walk into your own place and realize again how beautiful it is.  It wasn't until the next day that we realized what had happened in our absence.  After all, we'd only been gone a week.

Spring has made another stride on her journey into Vancouver, our fair city.  Oh, the rhodys aren't blooming yet and trees are just beginning to put out buds but it's a lot warmer and we we're happy for day temperatures in the sixties. 

Yesterday, we took a walk down our street and were surprised to see trees in bloom.  Not budding.  In full fledged, in your face, glory be blooms.  There are rows of these trees at the church and in strip mall parking lots.  I think they're all smiling.

Trees in bloom at the end of our street

Today it's pleasant out, just cool enough for a vest or light sweater.  Next week the weather people promise that we will have several days of sun when our daytime temperatures will top seventy degrees. 

In the next couple of months, we're going to see new life every day.  Maybe spring is the best time of the year.  It is, after all, the beginning of hope fulfilled whether we have remembered to hope or not.

As always, we are happy to hear from you either to tell us about your adventures or to comment on this blog.  The easiest way is to use the email address in the upper right corner of the blog under my picture.