In this travel blog I will attempt to provide you with information that will make you feel you were along for the trip. In addition to the traditional words and pictures I will provide you with links and maps as well as the costs associated with my travel. If I do it right, you can confidently plan a trip yourself to the same locations. So, jump right in and enjoy these trail rides.
May 2013 - Trail Ride to Seabeck, WA.
To get detailed information on my travel destinations and to take advantage of all the Google Map features, click here > View Larger Map
Not far from my house is one of the most beautiful, serene places I have encountered. It seemed like the perfect place to check out the horse and saddle. After months of working on the restoration of both it was kind of a celebration.
It was just one evening along the shore of The Hood Canal. Listening to the waves, enjoying a great meal, watching the eagles and geese overhead and the seals feeding in the water proved to be a perfect evening.
Hopefully it would be a preview of great trail rides to come.
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| Geese flying. |
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| The horse and saddle. |
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| Another view of the truck and camper. |
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| The sun is ready to disappear. |
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| A view of Hood Canal with the Olympic Mountains at sunset. |
June 2013 - Trail Ride to Olympic National Park and the Washington and Northern Oregon Coast
To get detailed information on my travel destinations and to take advantage of all the Google Map features, click here > View Larger Map
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I took a side trip to take a picture of a street with my surname. Had to do it. Probably will never see another. East Scrivner Road is not far from the entrance to the Olympic National Park as you are heading towards Hurricane Ridge.
The clouds have rolled in, the sun peaks out every once in awhile and then the rain comes down.
Now it is on to Hurricane Ridge .
Its a long, slow, tedious,low visibility climb to the top. The rain has caused fog to cover most of the mountain and one moment you are in the clear and the next you are enveloped in white. There is a strange beauty here under these conditions. Everything is so quiet. You can hear the birds chirp as clearly as if you were standing inside an aviary. The water sings as it trickles and at other times roars down the mountain. It is a very peaceful feeling. There are mountain flowers everywhere. Moss hangs from trees. The rocks, wet from the rain and moisture in the air, glisten. No complaints about the weather conditions. Not today.
At the top of the mountain there is less fog and it is windy. Snow accumulation from winter storms remain in large patches on the ground. As I take in the beauty and stand in awe of all that surrounds me, fresh snow starts to fall. It is June isn't it? The visitor center provides shelter and a cup of coffee takes the chill away. Lots of interesting displays are in the visitor center and the gift shop has a variety of information about the mountain's history. The snow keeps coming down. No accumulation at this point and probably will not see any unless the temperature suddenly drops.
It is late in the afternoon. Time to mosey back down the mountain.
“a momentary silence, a breath between waves colliding with large rocks on the beach…Thunder of surf, a splash of foam and water races up the rocky sand..”
“I am sitting on a large tan- colored rock formation at the water’s edge of Beach 3. The large boulders are pitted with small round holes made ages ago by piddock clams. Not exactly sure what time the high tide is today, I keep a watch on the shoreline to make sure my point of access is not blocked by by incoming tidal surge. It’s July, the sun is shinning, a wisp of a cloud hovers over Tatoosh Island. A perfect fan of salt spray hits the rock below me. The sand is shinning wet and grey in its wake. I study the surf break, curving, foaming in semi circular sweeps on the sand….”
“Behind me, the Salt Spray Forest clings to the sides and tops of the cliffs. Evergreen trees, stunted by wind and salt air slant towards land. Bent and scarred, groomed by the imperious gardener that is Mother Nature. These are not the happy trees of a Bob Ross painting, but shaped and given beauty by the struggles of surviving in a harsh environment.”
“Earlier in the day we drove to the Hoh rainforest. We hiked a short trail called The Hall of Mosses. On a rare sunny day in the rain forest, sunlight illuminated the vine maple leaves, shinning like green stars above our heads. Moss of all varieties clung to nurse logs and tree trunks, padded the forest ground and dangled from tree tops. We read that some moss can survive on nothing but air and light..that sounds like something out of a Tennessee Williams story-maybe another variation on the kindness of strangers?”
to the land of no cell service.
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