Just across the Sound

Have I mentioned how much I love my bike? And bike camping? And getting away by ferry? Another S24O to what's becoming routine. I hoped to make the 6:30 pm ferry after a day of meetings and appointments. I left the house in time, but when running through the option of paying the ferry with my Orca card, I realized I left my wallet in the bowl by the door. I turned around at the light on Yesler, waving again to the same group of boys at the park I saw just moments ago. 

I arrived to the ferry terminal just as that 6:30 boat was pulling away. Never mind--it was sunny and I hauled myself up on a concrete barrier like a harbor seal, soaking it up. I chatted on the phone with a dear adventure friend, and felt inspired. Late city workers rolled into the lane and we all boarded the 7:30 with following the call, "BIIIICYCLES!" 

I never tire of seeing the city from the water, or the spy hopping of Mt. Rainier. I am in awe of this all. Just miles from my home. On the boat I chatted with three women, also who were going bike camping, and one recognized me from the Gigantic Bicycle Festival last September. Another woman she was with was totally new to bike camping, and the other I would learn later in the evening while brushing our teeth in the bathroom of the state park, had been a cyclist whose talk I attended in March at the Stoked Spoke event. It seems I was meant to miss that 6:30 ferry. 

I pitched my tent at dusk and was invited to gather with these women and their friends, who would be hanging and camping, and also leaving early to get to work in the morning. The stars exploded with light, and while lying in the sand, I tracked satellites. I delighted in the Sound, the sizzle of the surf, and the strong waves that crashed beside us as the tide rolled in. 

In the morning light, I saw the others roll away early. I heard the chatter of the osprey and squawk of the bald eagles. I soaked up the sun, the shade, and the solitude reading beneath the faded driftwood leanto. It's all breathtaking. 

three times a charm... orange you glad I stopped at the bakery? 

Buckhorn Wilderness, Olympic National Forest

After a few previous trips in tunnel vision due to the weather, this weekend adventure was the light at the end of the tunnel. With long views, plenty of sunshine, pleasant walking weather, this trip was a huge bang for the buck.

Emma and I planned the route a week or so before our departure from Seattle on July 20. Despite some significant delayed traffic before the Hood Canal Bridge, we made it to the trail head by noon. We ate lunch, donned the gear, and noted that we were both carrying light weight backpacks (certainly compared to my 4 day solo). We began the hike through the shaded forest, along side the babbling creek. The trail gave us a few opportunities to get to the water, the crunch of gravel under our boots.

It was mostly easy going to the lake where we dropped packs and planned to camp. I dried out my sweaty shirt and we refilled water, while watching a man in an LL Bean t shirt cast a neon green fishing line from the shore. He waded in further, the muck of the lake bottom making him grimace. The fishing line arched in the air like calligraphy. I thought of Henry Wu who in college, tied flies for me that matched my hair, in a gesture I missed then as flirting. We had thought to trade fly fishing lessons for photography when we both made our way out west. I don't know what happened to Henry.

Emma suggested we head higher for camp. The lake was both shady and a bit buggy, and better views could likely be had above. We filled all water vessels, including her dinner bowl, which she carried like a monk would carry for alms.

The ridge did indeed offer more sunshine and more views, of Mount Constance, especially.

We dropped packs at the ridge and scouted for an ideal campsite, skirting around the heather, pushing aside the firs to find surprises. The biggest surprise was the view of the sound from other side of the ridge. I could see my city from here, and it was glorious. It's not just that the clumps of buildings were visible, it's that I could see the stadium, the Columbia Tower, and the ferry boats that crossed the Sound. This was such a delightful view. It stretched for miles. From Tacoma to Mt. Baker and Mt. Shuksan. 

We found a spot and settled in for the night, dinning by sunset, back lit by the beauty. 

The stars were visible at night, and moon rise glowed orange as the city lights. It was marvelous. I woke up here to the sunshine I was craving, the views I had been missing. 

We ate breakfast on nearly the last of the water we had hauled up from the lake and saved a few sips for the summit. 

Then, down again through the forest, and to the trail head, and to the ferry to get home. Mountains + Sound + Ferry + fun = a wonderful adventure.