Twilight, Trees, and the Art of Offending Bears

Saying goodbye to Alton and Ragnar was a little bittersweet. I was excited to move on to my next pet sit, where two cats will give me a bit more freedom to explore places that aren't necessarily dog-friendly, but these two were genuinely some of the best dogs I've ever sat. Alton in particular has a way of stealing your heart, so leaving them was definitely tough. I will miss those two goobers.

Unfortunately, the sit ended on a bit of a worrying note. A couple of days before the end, Alton took off after a coyote. I didn't notice anything unusual that day, but the following morning he started whining occasionally. I checked him over as best I could and couldn't find anything obviously wrong, so I wondered if he'd strained something while sprinting after his new nemesis. I let his owner know what was happening and kept a close eye on him. Later, he whined while eating a Milk-Bone, which made me wonder if he'd hurt a tooth, bitten his tongue, or done something else entirely. I couldn't see anything wrong in his mouth, either.

With his owner due home shortly, she decided to take him to the vet herself. I'm still in touch with her and hoping to hear how he's doing. It's frustrating to finish an otherwise really lovely sit with that kind of uncertainty, but hopefully he's okay and it turns out to be something minor.

After a small handover with Ragnar's owners, Rebecca and Jesse, whom I'd picked up from the airport around 11 p.m., I was back on the road. Alton's owner had arranged for someone to collect him, so I was free to head out rather than wait another hour or two. I decided to get an hour or so of driving under my belt and head north into Washington.

The plan? Olympic National Park, a little exploring, and a pilgrimage to Forks, Port Angeles, and the beaches around La Push.And yes, a Twilight pilgrimage.
**The BOOKS, not the movies.** 🤣

I had a pretty tight window for this little adventure, arriving in the Port Angeles area on the morning of the 7th and needing to be back for my next pet sit early on the 10th. But that was actually perfect. A few days to explore, do some hiking, and get back into the rhythm of life on the road.

And apparently, after three months, I'd forgotten one of my favorite things about road-tripping. Every so often, while driving along, I'll suddenly look around and think, *Wow. This is REALLY beautiful.*

It's not necessarily that the scenery was unattractive before. It's more that something subtly changes, and suddenly everything becomes a little more awe-inspiring. And, as happened several times on my original road trip to Oregon, shortly after having one of these moments, I'd look up and see a sign announcing that I'd entered a national forest or national park.

I'm telling you, whoever picked the locations for these nationally protected lands knew what they were doing. I swear I can spot them before I ever see a sign. There's just something about the landscape that makes it feel a little more special than the surrounding area.

Anyway, I made my way to Port Angeles, which, despite being one of the settings in the Twilight books, wasn't originally somewhere I intended to stop first. However, the national park visitor center was there, and with several significant road closures affecting where I could go, I figured it was worth stopping to check conditions and plan accordingly.

I'm glad I did, because salmon season was underway! I headed to Salmon Cascades on the Sol Duc River, where I got to watch salmon leaping through the water. It was really cool to see, and I don't think I'd ever fully appreciated just how BIG salmon are. They're considerably larger than the trout I used to fish for in Pennsylvania. 🤣

From there, I headed to Lake Crescent and hiked to Marymere Falls. Lake Crescent was absolutely gorgeous. The water was so calm that it looked like the perfect place to take a paddleboard out and spend a sunny afternoon floating around.

This led to two conflicting thoughts:

1. I wish I'd brought a paddleboard.
2. I'm so glad I didn't bring a paddleboard, because this place reminds me of the movie Lake Placid, and I'm just waiting for some prehistoric, very hungry crocodile to emerge its craggy head and start feasting on cows while Betty White rings her dinner bell.

You know. The usual internal conflict between appreciating nature and anticipating a B-movie disaster.

From there, I made my way to the Hoh Rainforest, and honestly, I'm not sure I have the words to do this place justice. It was beautiful, but in a strange, otherworldly way. Ancient, almost haunted. The kind of beauty that feels a little foreboding rather than comforting.

The trees are absolutely massive, with some reaching hundreds of feet into the air. There was a tree at the visitor center that was nearly 700 years old, and throughout the forest you could see enormous fallen trees and old stumps that were wider than I am tall.

But one of the coolest things I learned was about nurse logs. Because the canopy and ground cover is so dense, very little sunlight reaches the forest floor. Young trees often can't get enough light to grow there, so they start growing on top of fallen trees instead. Their roots stretch down over the old trunk until they reach the ground, leaving the young trees looking as though they're standing on stilts.

And when the original nurse log eventually decomposes, the new tree remains, sometimes with these bizarre, elevated roots that trace the shape of the tree that once supported it.

Which means you can look at a living tree and see the ghost of the tree that helped it grow. Think about that for a moment... You might be looking at a tree that's several hundred years old, and its roots are showing you the shape of another tree that was already ancient when this one started growing. You're looking at living history that could stretch back well over a thousand years.

This isn't a fossil. It isn't a painting or a rock formation. It's a living thing giving you a glimpse of the history of another living thing. I found that genuinely mind-blowing.

After spending the day wandering around the rainforest, I found some BLM land to camp on for the night. And I had quite possibly the best night's sleep I'd had in more than three months.

I don't think I've ever experienced darkness quite like that. The tree cover in the rainforest is so dense that even during the day, the forest feels noticeably dimmer than the sunny world outside. At night, there was simply no light getting through. We were close to a new moon, and even if there had been a decent moon or stars to see, I doubt much would have made it through that canopy.

After about 10 p.m., the cars stopped passing. The next one didn't come through until around 6 a.m. It was dark. It was quiet. And, paired with the slightly creepy, otherworldly atmosphere of the rainforest, it was simultaneously unsettling and incredibly peaceful.

There's something strange about being somewhere that feels so completely disconnected from the rest of the world. No lights, no noise, no constant reminders that civilization exists just beyond the trees. I apparently sleep very well when the universe turns off all the lights and mutes itself. LOL.

The next morning, I was excited to get back into phone reception and headed to Forks, the main setting of the Twilight books. The town has very much embraced its little slice of fame, and honestly, I respect the commitment.

Naturally, I checked out the welcome sign, the little Twilight museum, and the trucks on display. One was used in the movie, while the other was the actual truck described in the books.

Which raises an important question: why on earth did they not use the truck the author actually described when filming the movie? Hollywood, I guess. 🙄

I also stopped at the local diner that inspired the diner in the books. I normally fend for myself when it comes to breakfast and coffee, but I figured that if I was going to do the Twilight thing, I might as well commit and eat at the diner, too.

After a morning exploring Forks, I headed out to the Quileute Reservation and the beaches around La Push. Some beaches were inaccessible because of road closures and bridge work, so I wasn't entirely sure what I'd be able to see. But my main goal was simple: I wanted to spend some time by the ocean again.

I started at First Beach, because really, what else was I supposed to do? I walked along the coastline toward Second Beach and back. It was a nice walk, although both areas were fairly busy, so it wasn't exactly the peaceful seaside experience I was looking for.

Next, I decided to head to Third Beach, which requires a hike through the woods to reach the shoreline. The signage at the trailhead helpfully informed me that cougars and bears frequent the area. Excellent. Nothing like a little reminder that you are, in fact, wandering through somebody else's neighborhood.

I arrived at pretty much exactly low tide, which meant I got to explore some of the little creatures clinging to the rocks. Mostly starfish, crabs, and other little bits of marine life.

I've decided that starfish are ugly. I know they're supposed to be these cute little sea creatures, but honestly? They're kind of gross and weird. I was tempted to touch one because I'd never touched a starfish before, but I decided against it. I try to leave the places I visit as undisturbed as possible, and that includes not poking the local wildlife just because I'm curious.

So I walked along the beach, sat for a while, and enjoyed being by the sea. Eventually, though, I had to think about the hike back. The trail went through fairly dense forest, and with the cougar and bear warnings fresh in my mind, I wanted to make sure I was out of there well before dark.

By the time I started back, most of the few other people I'd seen earlier had already left, which made the prospect of walking through the woods completely alone a little more interesting.

So I followed the standard advice: make noise so the wildlife knows you're coming. Unfortunately, the only song I could think of was Grandpa Joe's *I Don't Want Her, You Can Have Her, She's Too Fat for Me*.

Which I proceeded to belt out while walking through the forest, sincerely hoping there wasn't some big-boned bear nearby who might take offense at the lyrics.🤣 I have no idea if my singing would actually deter a bear, but at least if I got eaten, it wouldn't be because I hadn't tried to warn it.

Washington gas prices were surprisingly even worse than Oregon's, with prices hovering around $5.79–$5.99 a gallon. Fortunately, tribal lands have different tax arrangements, and that can mean lower prices for customers. I managed to find gas for $4.63 a gallon on the reservation, which I'm pretty sure was the cheapest I'd seen anywhere in Washington.

I also found something else I'd been struggling to find: actual bathrooms. Not a hole in the ground. Actual bathrooms. And, even better, showers. Trust me, by this point, everyone else was probably grateful I'd found them, too. I discovered that I can apparently shower in less than eight minutes, and that eight-minute shower was probably the best dollar I've ever spent in my entire life... Sometimes it's the little things.

By the time I finished up, it was dark, so I got back on the road. Unfortunately, it was also raining, and I was driving with a fairly healthy level of anxiety about deer and elk suddenly deciding to audition for the role of hood ornament.

I mostly just wanted to get far enough along that I could get phone reception and find somewhere to camp for the night. Eventually, I got enough signal to pull up my app, find a spot, and call it a day.

By this point, I'd done pretty much everything I'd set out to do on the Olympic Peninsula. So the next morning, I took my time heading back into Oregon, stopping at a few Goodwills along the way and generally meandering south.

I got back with enough time to run a couple of errands before settling in for the night.

And now, this morning, the plan is to hit the gym for a workout and a shower before heading off to my next pet sit with two very cute kitty cats.

I'm looking forward to having a little more freedom to explore without having to plan everything around what is and isn't dog-friendly. But I'm also going to miss Alton and Ragnar, and I'm still hoping to hear that Alton is doing okay.

This little trip was a good reminder of why I love being able to take these opportunities when they come along. A few days, a rough itinerary, a lot of beautiful places, some questionable singing, and the freedom to stop and explore when something catches my eye. And apparently, the ability to sleep like the dead when the forest is dark enough to swallow the moon. Now, onward to the cats. 🐈🐈Read more