Random Thoughts and Shots Along the Trail

Up at the Elwha River dam location
 in Port Angeles, WA.

As we planned our journey, we took side trips and walks in the woods or along city streets and so here are a few thoughts and shots that are nice reminders along the way. Perhaps they will make sense to you, or maybe not. But like me, just enjoy and see where they take you.

These birds are very pretty, easy to train, but cannot hold a
candle in intelligence to the African Grey, a bird I once had.
Still, it was a treat to have a feathered connection this day.

In Seaside, OR, the beach simply goes on forever. I didn't actually feel like walking on it, but wanted to watch the waves roll in. As I was sitting there, along came a fellow with his pet bird. She was more than eager to jump on my arm and shoulder, and it was a nice reminder of the days when I had a bird.

Wayne cast off all inhibitions in Seaside, OR
and jumped on a reindeer on the carousel!

Then later in the day, Wayne decided to throw caution to the winds, so we rode the carousel together. Up and down, up and down, we listened to the music, smiled and watched folks looking at us, two senior people being kids again. Such fun!

Along a path after our trip to Mt. Saint
Helens, we walked a marshland trail and
saw millions of spiderwebs being made.

The marshlands trail below Mt. Saint Helens offered us a chance to walk easily through woodlands changing colors. It was also a breeding ground for some kind of spiders and every step was a challenge because of walking into another web being created. 

At one point Wayne was streaming threads of spider webbing like braids of hair from his shoulders.

It caused me to think about how there is so much energy being trailed behind each of us as we move through our own worlds, only we don't have the eyes to see it (in most cases). And our positive thoughts emanate from our auras either lighting us up or bringing lights to others.

An abandoned building sits in a town that used to be full of
mining activity and now has to find other ways to maintain
its existence.

As we journeyed through many towns along the route taking us from Reno to Las Vegas, there were all the signs of hope being delayed or denied with small towns that once were probably rollicking and rich with laughter as the people found resources and spent the value gained. Now those towns are grabbing at tourists like a lifeline, hoping with each stop something will be exchanged for the time they've invested in trinkets, arts and magnets to remind the tourist where they've been.

The red rocks of Sedona, Arizona push up all over the desert.

We finally made it to Sedona, where I feel the sacredness emanating from all the red rocks. Where I find my energy being wound up and realigned with Mother Earth. And when we arrived at the top of the Oak Creek Canyon Road, there were Navajo men and women artisans with their created treasures. I did not want something expensive or large; and Source pointed me to a woman who created copper pendants with turquoise and coral inlays. It was enough. A reminder that I am connected to the earth that gave up the copper and the semi-precious stones for a small adornment.

Sedona as seen from the airport area; growth continues in the city and its
surroundings changing it every time I visit. But the earth is still sacred.

Hot Night on the Spit

It was really hot in Sequim tonight, so I decided to go down to Dungeness Spit and have a picnic dinner.

Path to Dungeness Spit as sun sets.

I tried to find a friend to go with me, but one was going up to the lake and another was going to the casino to dance and the other one never replied.

Oh, well, I'm pretty good company for myself, so off I went. It was definitely in my plan to have a walk before or after dinner and this way I certainly got to do that... both ways.

There wasn't much of a breeze, and because it was already after 6 p.m., the path to the spit was quiet.

My picnic dinner on the spit.

I could hear birds fluttering about getting into a nest someplace, or making those last calls to others to come and roost. The sea air filtered up through the tall evergreens mixing with the dusty forest smell.

Nice. Peaceful.

I walked alone and just as I got down near the spit I could see a few folks making their way up the path because there is a deadline that everyone has to be off the beach one half hour before sunset. 

And out of the ether come yellow jackets. How do they know there is food to be eaten? I kept pushing one away and finally had to cover up what I was trying to eat, only opening it when I was ready to take a bite. And one of them got into the plastic bag that was holding grapes. But when I stopped feeling resistance to their presence, they took off. That was weird. 

When the tide is in, the spit looks like it is littered with
dinosaur bones. If you look closely you can see someone
up on one of the huge logs near the tideline.

Sunset watching is done up on the bluff and then you have to be out of the park at 'dusk,' which is a sort of fluid time because some days (if cloudy) it gets darker quicker than if it is clear, like it was tonight.

The Olympic range gets a lovely purple color as the light fades, but the
smoky haze affects the colors right now.

These are the bluffs that are eroding
at an alarming rate.

I did manage to walk for 43 minutes, getting credit for 4256 steps, which is about 2 miles, I think.

There is such a 'beachy' smell there... washed up bird feathers, small crabs, shells of other things, seaweed, damp sand from the recent high tide, and weathered salt-infused wood.

I later discovered this was a couple who were
celebrating a wedding anniversary.

Soon it was time to head back up and a couple that I had taken a photo of walking on the beach asked me to take their photo with their camera because it is their wedding anniversary. Congratulations, you two!!

The sun is setting earlier now; it was 8:05 p.m. tonight.

Then it was off to the bluff to watch the sunset. I am not sure if the time of sunset is when it starts or when it finishes. I wasn't watching my time as I took the photos. All I know is that it is now getting darker a little bit sooner every day.

No disappointment in the sunset tonight... all the smoke from the fires in the Olympics created a lovely reddish glow and I met a nice woman from Tacoma so we chatted as the sun set, with me taking photos as we shared observations. 

Just after the sun set, the Puget Sound breeze began and the
air chilled down immediately. And I live here!!

Thanks, Christina, for making the evening more colorful! And for using my favorite saying, "Does it get any better than this?"

Everyone is gone; hope the sun comes back tomorrow...

By the time I got home the temperature inside was down to a livable 75. I checked on the cats and they were still alive - not roasted yet.

The Dungeness Spit

Dungeness Spit map at trailhead, Sequim, WA.

The locals (on the Olympic Peninsula) call it "the Spit," but the real name is Dungeness National Wildlife Refuge.  Established in 1915 by President Woodrow Wilson, it is 636 acres of a variety of tidelands, beach and upland forest, including one of the longest natural sand spits in the world.

Fortunately it is less than five miles from my home and is a grand spot for walks; long ones or short ones. Even on drizzly days, it is a delightful escape from the moderate traffic of the area.

Upland forest trail heading toward "the Spit."

Today the weather was perfect for a rather long trek, but I didn't tromp all the way out to the lighthouse. That is a 10-mile round trip and I don't think I've trained enough yet.

The walk starts in the forest, and pleasantly meanders gradually downhill until that last 1/8th mile when it is somewhat steep, but on a wide, smooth trail.

Then the trail opens up and suddenly you can see the upper end of Puget Sound, the Strait of Juan de Fuca and across to the island of Vancouver, B.C.

The waves from the Strait of Juan de Fuca create the Spit,
and the bluffs nearby are gradually eroded.

On this gorgeous day, there were plenty of people sunning themselves and even a few were swimming in the water. One woman was walking the beach water line looking for stones in the shape of a heart. She said she collects them. This, in spite of the admonition on one of the signs that the taking of wood, stones or other items from the area is forbidden.

People do a lot of rearranging of the stones on the beach.

Judging from the number of stones in varying stages of being grinded away by the salt water action, I cannot think that there is a great risk of them disappearing because folks are collecting them.

Do you suppose there is someone who has catalogued them and is keeping track of where they all are? A fine government job!

Well, it looked like a heart for a bit...
it's the white one.

When I visited the Pacific coast, up at  Rialto  Beach, I noticed the stones there are being shaped much rounder. Here they are being washed flatter. Even so, I found myself walking and looking down and here is what I found:

A ship loaded with freight heads out to the Pacific Ocean.

Naturally I left it there. I imagined getting back to the Ranger kiosk and having them force me to empty my pockets and then suddenly a large crowd would gather and I would be further humiliated by getting caught... wondering now what the Federal Register lays out as the punishment for removing rocks. No wonder the indigenous peoples are in wonderment about all our rules.

All kinds of creatures, feathered, finny and furry, take advantage of this refuge.

During the spring the seals use the protected harbor beach at the end of the Spit for their pups. In the fall and the spring, the migrating birds take a break from their journey and other native birds are here all year.

This is the sea grass that is essential for nesting birds.

I didn't see one bird on the ground anywhere today. Perhaps they took a holiday. Of course there were seagulls.

The hotter-than-average summer has made the waters in the
Strait less than frigid. 

On my way back up the path I found myself passing a couple who were dragging their feet. Noting they were considerably younger than me, I asked them if they'd had a nice day, curious to learn why they seemed so tired. "We've just completed the walk out to the lighthouse and back," the guy told me. "It seemed shorter heading out than it was coming back," his female companion added.

The Olympic range is off in the distance. The eroding bluff
is to the left in the photo.

I feel so fortunate that I live in such a beautiful area. And that this portion of accessible loveliness is pretty close to my home.

When my son was out visiting we walked along the bluffs. There has been so much erosion, portions of the path I walked a year ago have disappeared and the Rangers have re-routed it.

I have no idea at what speed it will progress, or what will happen to the park itself if the bluffs simply disappear. At least the scientists can't blame the erosion on global warming. Or can they?

Waves on the shore; small now, but come back when the
fall winds whip them up and see them then.