This weekend and last have held adventure and beauty. The kind of beauty that breaks your heart into a million little pieces and scatters it to happily rise and drift with the winds, then brings it back, fuller than ever. I am often in awe of the natural world, but sometimes, she kicks it up several notches, and my eyes almost can’t take it all in. I have photos for you. But they won’t do the real thing justice.
How do you capture magic through the lens of an iPhone?
And yet, I try. Because I want to take the views with me and share them with those who aren’t here.
Last weekend, we left home at 6:30 a.m. to make the drive to the most Northwest corner of the lower 48: Cape Flattery. The stars were just fading, replaced by the first hint of daylight on a clear-sky day. The distance between here and there isn’t all that far, but the going is slow.
One of the things I love about living on the Olympic Peninsula is that you’re forced to slow it down a bit. Highway 101 is primary road, and much of the way around the peninsula, the speed limit is 45-50, slowing down to 25 in many of the small towns.
In slowing down, you see. You see the Olympic Mountains rising up from sea level into jagged but graceful peaks. You notice the changing color of the sea. The light dancing off water and clouds.
In Port Angeles, the drive to the Cape veers off the 101 — if you follow the shortest distance route — and takes you on a very windy, not always well-maintained road. But along the way, you drive through forests and along the Strait of Juan de Fuca. Most of the way, the cell phone is useless for anything other than snapping photos. You just hope you don’t have car trouble.
Cape Flattery is on the Makah Indian Reservation. We are lucky they allow us access to this wonder of a place. We stopped at the visitors center in Neah Bay to purchase our pass, then made our way out to the trailhead.
The Cape itself is why everyone goes, but I was completely enamored of the old-growth forest we walked through to get there. Not only were there big firs and cedars, but since they were at the edge of the world, hit with the fierce winds that often batter these areas, so many of the old beauties had such character.
We went on a Saturday. The perfect weather meant that everyone within 100 miles also thought it was a perfect day to go to the Cape. Fortunately, we got there before it got too crowded. We still had quiet. Periods of the hike when no one was around. Still, calm moments looking out over the water.
So, here, soak up the sights and put yourself in this place. Feel the instant peace that is, though the photos don’t entirely capture it, is palpable, nonetheless.
Yesterday, I had the idea to head to Hurricane Ridge in Olympic National Park. It’s one of my favorite places to go, and I hoped to see a bit of the fall colors before they were completely gone. And my timing couldn’t have been better. This is the last weekend Hurricane Ridge Road is open for the hiking season. They’re shutting it down to demolish and clear the last of the remains of the burned-down visitors center and prepare for the winter season.
This weekend was the end of the season and, really, the end of an era for the Ridge. When winter visitors flood the mountain for the ski season, nothing will be left of the structure. I’m curious to see what the NPS will do for next year.
But I’m glad I thought to go up today. Everything about this day dripped with the final colors of autumn and blew with the first, brisk winds of winter. I again left the house when the sky was full of stars, arriving at the Hurricane Hill trailhead at about 8. There were only four or five other cars in the lot when I got there. As a solo hiker in these parts, I am always a little leery when I see the “Caution: cougar frequenting the area” sign. Fortunately, another couple was beginning their hike at the same time I was. Safety in numbers.
I reached the top at just after 9, joining a different couple at the perfect place to watch the eclipse. And the clouds remained at bay, shimmering in ethereal light over the peaks. Another bit of good luck: This couple had eclipse viewing glasses and shared with me, so I got to do more than watch the eerie change of light over the landscape as the moon passed in front of the sun. Here, we had somewhere between 80-90% coverage, but it’s still a sight to see.
And, yet again, I could not capture the scene on my phone, but I did catch something of the feel and mood of the day.
Winter is coming. Even though the daytime temperatures here at sea level are mostly in the low 60s, the light is changing. The winds are picking up, rustling the needles on the conifers. Leaves on deciduous trees cling to branches while they shift from green to gold or red to brown and drift to the ground. A blanket of the fallen already skirts the ground underneath many of the trees.
But I’ll hold onto these moments, seek out the last of the autumn when and where I can, until winter at last settles in for the long haul.
Peace.
Des
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"This weekend and last have held adventure and beauty. The kind of beauty that breaks your heart into a million little pieces and scatters it to happily rise and drift with the winds, then brings it back, fuller than ever. I am often in awe of the natural world, but sometimes, she kicks it up several notches, and my eyes almost can’t take it all in" Words and pictures = beautiful - thanks for sharing!!
transported once again by your words and pictures!