Day 57 – May 30

Some showers overnight added to the already damp environs of Fort Edward State Park. After a planning session for the next couple of days we headed out at about 10:15, a little later than we had targeted the previous night. Our route north took us back through Astoria and then across a great bridge over the Columbia into Washington – our second, or was it third time we had entered that state.

We were headed for Olympic National Park however some of the landmarks along the way created a certain sense of foreboding – Cape Disappointment, Dismal Nitch and, Dungeness. The road passed through a series of small fishing villages which had a feeling strangely reminiscent of areas of Newfoundland. We stopped at Raymond, an active fishing port, for lunch. My deep fried local oysters were excellent as were the local clams, according to Sean. Finally a sample of the ‘fresh’ seafood that Monterrey had failed to produce. As we were now in a new state I picked up a copy of the local fishing regulations, eager to wet a line as we passed through the Olympic State Park. Imagine again if you will my dismay to find out that on this 30th day of May, 45 days into Nova Scotia’s fishing season, that the western regions of Washington State did not upon for freshwater fishing until June 1. Once again I appear to be a day late and a dollar short but there is some solace in knowing that BC, Alaska and the Yukon await me.

A short side trip to Quinault took us deeper into rain forest country marked by its moss on every surface and seas of glistening fern fronds. We were on a mission to see the ‘largest spruce tree in the world’. We have seen so many biggest, tallest, widest, deepest signs that after a while it is easy to be skeptical but at an estimated 1000 years of age and with a girth of 58′ 11″ and a height of 191′ this tree certainly was worth the short walk through the woods. With a purported average annual rainfall of 12 feet, yes feet, not inches, it was clear why this area could grow such a tree.

Our target of the Kalaloch State Park within the Olympic National Park was achieved by 5:00. Again the less than ideal weather and the mid week timing allowed us to find two adjacent ocean side sites. The forecast of clearing weather for tomorrow and the following days seemed possible as we looked out on the Pacific Ocean rolling onto the driftwood covered beach.

We have seen and walked along the Pacific Ocean shoreline several times already but this is the first example of a beach strewn with monster driftwood. Some of these huge logs have broken away from commercial log booms while others, complete with roots, had been torn from the flooded banks of rivers that feed the Pacific.

After a short walk on the beach we had a meal of barbecued pork chops and baked potato. The barbecuing took place under the protection of our canopy as the light rain of the late afternoon had turned into a more serious rainfall. However the rain soon abated and we were treated to a lovely sunset before retiring to the BRT for another rousing round of Skip Bo.

Day 58 – May 31

We awoke to clear blue skies and warming temperatures. The dampness of the previous day was lifting and the tide was falling, the perfect recipe for a walk on the beach. Along with the great views of the blue Pacific and the sculptural piles of greying driftwood the hard packed sand left by the receding tide made for effortless walking. This beach was a beachcomber’s paradise with countless shells and pieces of kelp to amuse the curious – a lovely start to the day.

Our destination for the day was the Sol Duc Hot Springs Campground. As it was less than 2 hours away there was no urgency to drive aggressively. We stopped along the way at Ruby Beach, a more scenic beach than at our campsite due to the various rock outcroppings and the small stream that emerged from the forest.

We passed through several small towns along the way stopping at Forks for a coffee and muffin at a drive through expresso bar, a common convenience along the roads of both Oregon and Washington. We arrived early afternoon at Sol Duc and after presenting our National Parks passes to the Ranger I inquired about fishing in the park, as the season started the next day. Much to my joy I was told that no license was required in a National Park and that there was a steelhead run underway. I was also directed to a promising location to fish, the North Branch of the Sol Duc River, found at the end of a one mile trail. My plans for the following day began to quickly gel.

There is a private resort at the hot springs that advertised an RV park with full hook ups which we decided to check out. As nice as the resort was, the RV park was nothing but an unpaved parking lot, not as nice as some overflow parking we have seen in other parks so we drove on to the tenting sites where we found two sites adjacent to the river. Quickly packing up swimming suits and towels we all headed back to the resort to try the hot springs. We had expected something a bit more rustic and natural but discovered a series of large hot tub pools sort of mini swimming pools with built in seating around the perimeter. There were pools of increasing temperatures, a kids pool and a large unseated pool to cool off in.

Although not crowded there was a large contingent of a some Eastern Europeans staying at the resort. Their undecipherable conversations gave the setting a very European flavour. We tried the two hot pools and Diane spent some time in the unheated pool, which also saw a much briefer visit from Sean. Carla and I preferred the environs of the sulphurous hot spring pools. After a shower we headed down the road to check out the hike into the suggested fishing spot. As a former ex military boss says ‘time spent on reconnaissance is seldom wasted’. It took Sean, Diane and I about 40 minutes to make the trek in through the large most covered trees and ferns. The first half of the walk was up a steep hill, climaxing at a ridge while the second half was the mating trek down from the ridge to the river’s edge.

As promised the path finished at a flat rock ideal for casting into the fast flowing gin clear water. Although no fish were obvious in the water much can be concealed beneath even clear fast flowing water. Sean had expressed an interest in joining me so when we returned to our RVs I gave Sean a few rudimentary lessons in fly casting which he took to quite well. Fly casting is a very deceptive skill. Seemingly childlike in its simple back and forth motions, the effortless cast of a good fisherman can take decades to perfect (mine is very much still a work in progress). Having made adequate advancement for a first lesson we settled in for a meal of spaghetti bolognese and salad prepared by Diane and eaten in the BRT followed with fresh carrot cake courtesy of Carla eaten around a struggling camp fire. All of the rainfall over the last couple of days has made dry wood a difficult commodity to obtain. Frequent fanning of the fire was required to keep it a above a smoulder.

We eventually abandoned all hopes of extracting any heat from the smouldering pile of wood and retreated to the warmth of our vehicles for the night.

Day 59 – June 1

An early morning start after Diane moved to the comfort of the MRT saw Sean and I on the road to the North Branch trail head by 7:15. Fortunately there were no other cars in the small parking space at the trail head. The passengers in the one car that pulled in immediately after us were just admiring the view over the main river so we knew our limited fishing spots would not be restricted by other fishermen. We set a good pace in and were soon at the river side. As the day before there were no signs of fish through the clear water but undaunted we geared up.

I positioned Sean on a rock promontory which gave him a good unimpeded back cast without the need for waders. Following a few quick instructions about the fishing side of casting I took my rod and headed out to scout other likely spots where casting from the shore was possible. Sean did vey well in keeping his fly out of the trees and bushes however he and I had equal luck in attracting anything other than a few errant mosquitoes. We tried another close by spot and then headed downstream about 15 minutes through the undergrowth to an open spot where the river took a bend at a gravel wash. This site provided great casting space and we both fished it through, unfortunately to no avail.

We had arranged that Diane and Carla were going to bring lunch in around 12:30 but as there seemed little hope of the fishing improving we headed back to the parking lot in hopes of getting out before they made the mile trek. We were almost to the trailhead when we heard voices coming along the path. The large trees afforded too enticing an ambush site even for someone wearing a back pack so unable to resist temptation I positioned myself and practised my best bear growl. I wasn’t disappointed with the results and I am hopeful that Carla and Diane will be speaking to me again by the end of the trip.

We had planned a hike into the Sol Suc falls, a 1.6 mi return hike so we decided to transport our picnic to the falls. The path to the falls was an easy hike by comparison to that of the North Falls. We knew the time was well spent as we rounded a bend to see the lower races of the fall. Further on the full force of the falls came into view. As the Sol Duc rolled over a precipitous drop into a vary narrow gorge the force of the water hitting far below created a constant upwelling of wind that caused an interesting upward rain along the edge of the path.

An oversized park bench proved a great spot to watch the falls and tourists while we ate our sandwiches. After the hike we returned to our campsite for some quiet time. By 5:00 Sean and Carla had a decent fire going, fuelled with dry wood bought at the resort store so we sat around the fire and had a plate of nachos prepared by Carla and heated in our oven. Unused to having time on our hands while it was still light out we had a couple hands of Skip Bo before Sean heated up the delicious egg drop soup that head prepared in advance the night before. We sat around the warmth of the fire, a much more pleasant experience than the night before, until the last log was reduced to coals, a great end to the day.