From the Ridiculous to the Sublime, Part 2

Where we stayed on our trip to Olympic National Park took us from Forks, Washington to Port Angeles, Washington in one week.

In Forks, our tiny house on wheels was strange: no tissues; no indoor rugs; no place to put our luggage; no place to hang our clothes. The tiniest sink I’ve ever seen.

The tiniest sink ever

Following four days on the west side of ONP — it’s enormous, meandering between federal and local land — we drove to the big city of Port Angeles (pop. 19,000). We had the whole floor of a modern home, known as Rick’s Place (which we would highly recommend). A towering, talkative retired photojournalist, Rick washed our dishes and even did our laundry!

Rick’s Place

Another weird sink story: a deep kitchen sink was in Rick’s bathroom but there was no sink in the kitchen. Huh?

Consider this a public service announcement if you’re planning a trip to the magnificent ONP.

And I recommend that you consider the exotic, lushest green national park of all for your domestic vacation.

Expect the unexpected. Not just leaping up when a western jay snatched an almond from my hand.

Relaxing by the peaceful Lake Crescent with its Teddy Roosevelt leather furniture. Munching on the best non-greasy fried halibut at Calvin’s Crab Shack in Neah Bay, while gazing at the surprisingly long Vancouver Island. And visiting Cape Flattery, which we were told was the most northwestern part of the lower 48, jutting out into the Pacific (but it wasn’t).

What we did see was the six-mile Dungeness spit, which juts out and curves into the Strait of Juan de Fuca, named after a 1592 Spanish explorer, separating Washington’s Olympic Peninsula and British Columbia’s Vancouver Island.

The six-mile Dungeness spit

Visiting friends in Port Townsend for a night was a pleasure. Sitting on their porch felt like being at a camp cabin. Except the Pacific loomed down the road.

The next morning we rose in the dark to make the ferry from Bainbridge Island to Seatac airport. Being on the water always thrills me — whether it’s scary or sublime.

Don’t we require both to make a life (the thought just popped into my coffeed-up mind)?

Bainbridge Island ferry to Seattle

As I wrote in Part 1, there was way more “sublime” than “ridiculous” on this trip. We’re lucky. I hope we’re fortunate enough to someday visit Vancouver Island.

And that we have more sublime surprises to look forward to.

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