The Olympic Peninsula



Of course to many of you, it needs no introduction. But my mom was out visiting, and she had never been to the Olympic Peninsula. So for her, this weekend was a firsthand introduction. We made the uneventful drive up to Forks, getting to Second Beach just in time to see the forest ablaze with the fiery rays of a setting sun. It was beautiful. The light highlighting the trees was fierce, and as you looked west the air itself seemed to be orange.




The next morning we drove north towards Port Angeles. Mom half-noticed a house covered in “balls or something” down a side road. We made a U-turn to discover a barn and fence covered in fishing floats. Covered! 

Immediately adjacent to the barn was the frame of a house that never became was it was supposed to become. It should have been a man's home, but he lost his job as he was building it. With no money to finish the house, it sits there an empty shell filled not with a family, but only with one man's intentions and hopes for a life he never lived. It will sit there a while longer I imagine, the decaying remnant of a man’s good outlook on the world.



Arriving in Port Angeles, we drove up to Hurricane Ridge. We had the park to ourselves (if you ignore the five hundred other tourists)! Ah, summer has such pros and cons. Still, we drove the winding, easy route to the top and traffic was pretty thin between the entry and the visitor’s center.



We spent sunset at Tongue Point, not far from our motel in Port Angeles. Like just about any given point on this peninsula, it proved to be beautiful.



The next day we began our way back to Portland. But early on, we stopped at the Hoh Rainforest. It was a bit dry and also packed with people. But it still held its beauty. You just had to focus to see it.