From Sea to Shining Sea

A raw morning fog settled over Lacey, Washington... 41 degrees. We watched the weather channel forecast for promises of clearing. "Even if it lifts today, when the front moves in for the weekend, we'll have nothing but rain from Thursday night on," said Andy. "We're not going to the Olympic Peninsula."

We headed west, past miles of forest. This is lumberjack land. Timber haulers, piggy backs loaded with Douglas fir logs, zoomed past us. "Do you think he was doing 50?" I asked Andy.

"Let's put it this way. If he had to slam on the brakes, Truckin' Maniac would be dead," Andy answered.
After a brief stop at the Quinault National Fish Hatchery, we meandered north along Route 101.

"We came through here in 1978, and the area was utter desolation," said Andy. "It was totally clear cut. At least the lumber companies have reseeded." A solid wall of young evergreens and undergrowth lined both sides of the road, so dense we couldn't see 15 feet in. "Let's spend the day around Lake Quinault," suggested Andy. "At least we can say we visited Olympic National Park." Pacific maritime climate. Moss dripped from the huge, old cedars, with the canopy of aspen underneath still green. Ferns in green and brown carpeted the floor.

By mid-afternoon we drove west again, this time as far as we could go to the Washington Pacific Ocean coast at 2:09 p.m. Cross country in five weeks... 36 days. I wonder if Lewis and Clark recorded the time, as well as the date, in December of 1805, when they arrived at the coast.
The sun dropped behind Damon Point at 6:20 p.m. We sat on driftwood logs and photographed the setting, our car parked on the sand nearby. Seagulls swooped overhead, calling to each other and daring the Dungeness crabs to venture forth. Miles of sand, dotted only with driftwood, broken sand dollars and clam shells, stretched as far as we could see. It was a perfect end to five weeks of travel from sea to shining sea.