A vacation on the coast

While the hikers sleep, the spiders work hard. Sometimes your hard work results in a single thread of the trail. And sometimes that’s all they get, because in the morning I pass by their construction site. Normally, I clear every cobweb without much thought, but this section of the Pacific Northwest Trail wasn’t exactly normal.

I reached the east bank of the South Fork Nooksack River around 10am and soon began what one FarOut commenter described as “a couple of strange miles.” They were right. The uncompacted tread looked like it hadn’t seen much use yet. He took me on a two mile obstacle course of very tight lefts and rights, small ups and downs, rocks and roots. Each step I took was a different length and each step required my full attention.

To add to the rarity, the local spiders had been particularly busy. I was going through several cobwebs a minute and constantly cleaning them off my arms, legs and face. It was impossible to avoid the individual threads, but if I had spent less time looking down, I could have avoided the two fully constructed webs I entered.

• One was at chest height. I quickly pushed it away, but its eight-legged occupant remained hanging on my sleeve for several minutes, unnoticed. The spider was black with white knees and its bulbous body was about the size of my thumbnail.
• The other net stuck to my face. In the time it took me to react, the newly dislodged spider was already slithering across my chin. The disgust was as visceral as it gets.

Dirt roads and clearings

The trail turned right onto a decommissioned road and at about the same time exited the National Forest. Over the next three days, I covered a mix of private and state land. Most of that land is owned by logging companies, and some of it is leased to them by the Washington Department of Natural Resources (DNR). There were no signs to distinguish private land from DNR, but many of FarOut’s landmarks specified «Private property. Day use only. No camping.» While it was helpful to know where camping wasn’t allowed, I wasn’t entirely sure where to camp. was permitted. So for three nights I had to guess.

1. I camped on the summit ridge of Mount Josephine, on what looked like an unused two-track trail, a short distance from the PNT. I later discovered that the DNR land started a half mile from the PNT.
2. The next night, I camped on the side of the road, approaching the top of Lyman Hill. Before I knew it, I was halfway between two DNR areas.
3. Success, finally. I camped on the correct side of an unmarked boundary near the top of Anderson Mountain.

Although I didn’t see or hear any logging activity, I did see a lot of clearcuts full of debris. I spent most of my time on dirt roads, which tend to get hot anyway, but were even hotter without trees. (Nice views though). The nights were also warm, perhaps in part due to the lower elevations.

After Anderson Mountain, the PNT transformed again. With farmland, residential areas, small towns, daily resupply and camping in my near future, I felt like I was starting a five-day coastal vacation.

Day One: Lizard Lake

At the gas station in Algiers, I replenished my strategic stock of snacks and had a late breakfast followed by an early lunch. Next, I headed up Blanchard Hill to finish at the Lizard Lake DNR campground.

Day two: View of the bay

Shortly after leaving camp, I detoured toward Oyster Dome to see Samish Bay, then descended 2,000 feet to Highway 11. The first road sign I passed was a «Tsunami Danger Zone» warning.

The road was quiet, the terrain flat and the rural landscape idyllic. A thin, tall cloud blocked some of the sun’s heat and I could smell the ocean on the breeze. I visited the bakery in Edison, picked blackberries on the roadside, and enjoyed another early finish at Bay View State Park. I also enjoyed a much needed shower.

Day Three: Quarry Pond

A light rain fell throughout the night, but it stopped just before I had to get up. A thick layer of clouds covered the sky and the air was thick with moisture. On the Padilla Bay Shore Trail, I started the day quietly watching the tide change and the mudflats slowly begin to flood. Three kilometers later, back on the paved road, the noise was much louder. After breakfast at a gas station, I spent most of the rush hour alongside four lanes of traffic on Highway 20.

Peace and tranquility was restored once I crossed the bridge to Fidalgo Island, leaving the road behind. Instead of walking through March Point, I took a shortcut between the two oil refineries to reach the other shore. I crossed Fidalgo Bay on a converted railroad trestle, stopped to watch the seals, and took another shortcut. This time I turned south, had lunch at Sharpes Corner and headed for Gibraltar.

Crossing the bridge to Fidalgo Island.

The Canoe Pass and Deception Pass bridges have narrow walkways and were packed with tourists. I walked past some, but had to wait for others. I crossed safely and hurried to the only walk-in site at Quarry Pond Campground. It turned out that there was no need to rush. The ranger said the same thing as the ranger yesterday at Bay View State Park: «We won’t turn away anyone who arrives without an appointment. Find a ranger and he’ll find you a spot.»

I charged my devices in the adjacent site while I dried my tent before setting it up. I bought dinner and a beer at the nearby gas station and then went back for more drink; I couldn’t resist. It was only a three minute walk and they had a great selection of alcohol.

Day Four: Fort Ebey

Sea fog rolled in overnight and visibility was less than a quarter mile when I reached the road. I took the most direct route south that I could, avoiding as much of the (still noisy) Highway 20 as possible. Oak Harbor was a welcoming place; People smiled and waved as they walked along the boardwalk. I had a hearty late breakfast at Riverside Café and picked up some more food at Safeway on my way out of town. The fog had lifted by the time I reached the west side of the island, but the sky was still cloudy. The tide was high so I continued along the road instead of walking along the beach.

It was the Friday afternoon before Labor Day: I wasn’t too surprised that the campground at Fort Ebey State Park was nearly full. Fortunately, all the walk-in sites were still available. Once I set up my tent, I walked to the nearby gun battery, where there was a beautiful view of Puget Sound and the Olympic Peninsula. That night, I fell asleep to the distant ringing of the bell on a marker buoy.

Day five: Port Angeles

In the morning I returned to Highway 20 for the last time. There was a path next to the road, less traffic than usual and less noise. In Coupeville, after stopping at a gas station, I headed south toward the ferry terminal. I arrived in plenty of time to catch the 10:15am ferry, which docked in Port Townsend less than 45 minutes later.

Port Townsend has limited bus service on Saturdays and no service on Sundays. Port Angeles has a limited Sunday service and many lodging options, so that’s where I planned to stay. The only problem was that my bus wouldn’t arrive for another six hours. I spent some time at a coffee shop, a park, and a food truck, then walked to Safeway to pick up a five-day supply. Then I crossed the street and waited at the bus stop for about the last hour. My vacation was almost over. Tomorrow I would be back in the countryside, with Olympic National Park the only obstacle between me and the western edge.

Goodbye, Whidbey Island.