Noah and I took a quick trip this past week out to the rugged Olympic Peninsula to his parents house (who are in the process of moving down from Alaska, so it was only the two of us). There, we cooked, baked, hiked, photographed, puzzled, watched movies, and drank hot toddies by the wood fire. It was glorious. And a much needed break from the hustle and bustle of Seattle. I happened to have time off because I'm starting a new job on Monday (exciting!) and Noah was burned out after a seven day work week.
We left Seattle in Noah's clunky, but adorable, orange VW bus packed with pretty much our whole kitchen and headed North to the ferry. The ferry ride was gray and the sky was spitting rain, but it was good to feel the fresh breeze on our skin and know that we were on an adventure. We both live for adventures. Our first adventure to the Olympic Peninsula together was over two years ago. The orange VW bus was packed with camping gear, not kitchen gadgets, and Noah and I were still new to each other. The bus had different ideas though, and started overheating just before the turnoff to Port Townsend. Noah made a valiant attempt at repairs, but the exhaust fumes and temperature gauge made us turn back toward Seattle. Back in front of our house, we unpacked the bus, repacked everything in a different car, and drove all the way back to the ferry once again. Adventures are adventures no matter where they lead you.
The next three days in Sequim were filled with numerous hours in the kitchen followed by photo shoots and eating lots of food, including a whole loaf of homemade sourdough bread. In between oven timers I would dash into the next room to put a puzzle piece in place and then dash back out, jumping over camera wires, to check on whatever was in the oven or bubbling on the stove. The wine was opened around 5 while we cleaned up the day's mess and took the last shots, then we'd relax for a bit before dinner, me with my puzzle, and Noah with his bread making book. The evenings were finished with a movie. If only every day could be like this...
We did leave the house a couple of times. We walked down to the neighbors to see if there were any fresh eggs for sale (we scored two cartons) and we had to make several emergency trips to the little store down the road for forgotten ingredients. We also chose the rainiest day to go on 6.5 mile hike. Driving about an hour (and a half in the bus) west on 101 we found the Kloshe Nanitch Trail that ascends up to a former fire lookout site. The hike up was steep with switchback after switchback paving our way. But it was beautiful. As we climbed, the fog and mist got heavier and heavier until we could barely see around the next bend. It filtered through the trees along with stray rays of sunshine, making everything look greener and more vibrant and more alive. It gave the forest a magical feel, like we were trespassing on fairy land. We had the trail all to ourselves too, which heightened the eeriness and mystique. And there were mushrooms. So many mushrooms. They popped up out of the earth in all different shapes, sizes, and colors. I'm pretty sure we saw lobster mushrooms and maybe a morel, but I can't be certain and I'm way too chicken to dig them up and bring back home to eat. So they stayed where they belong in fairy land.
We got to the top, soaking wet and hungry. The fire lookout is no longer there, only a platform resting in its place, and the view was non-existant because of the soupy fog. We dug out our (sourdough) sandwiches and put on another layer over our sweaty shirts to keep from getting chilled. Then it was time to head back down. The fog and mist started to lift as we got halfway down the trail, creating starbursts of light behind boulders and tree trunks. It was beautiful. Noah was enamored.
Just as we neared the end of the trail, the fog cleared and revealed blue sky. With the appearance of the sun went the mysteriousness and the magic and the thoughts of little fairies living in the forest. We were just on another hike in the forest on a nice day.