elfs | (no subject)

We woke up the next morning feeling refreshed. I was stiff in odd places, sore in other odd places, but still miraculously in one piece.

There was some kind of crow battle going on overhead, with lots of screaming and cawing. Whatever it was, it sounded territorial. That morning there were also bumblebees everywhere on the raspberry bushes.

The first thing to take care of was breakfast. I made a primitive fire and made breakfast tea for me and Omaha, then we set about the process of actually making breakfast. Rashers of bacon, and then I poured the grease into the firepit, watched it flame up impressively (if you've never seen the Bacon Torch, I recommend it), and scrambled some eggs.

Omaha lounged about the campsite in her pajamas. If you've ever wanted to see Omaha in hot Victoria's Secret Lingere, here's your chance.

Omaha in Victorias Secret Lingere

Fully fed, we cleaned up, broke down the campsite, and decided we would not be riding that day. Instead, we'd go hiking. We picked a trail up in the Elwha river basin and headed out.

Mother deer and faun

There hadn't been a lot of wildlife spotted until now, but as we drove up to the Whiskey Bend trailhead, we were chased by this wild pheasant who came tearing after us like it was the roadrunner. It was the funniest thing we'd seen yet. (Bonus photo: Wild Pheasant.)

When we got to the campsite, however, and even better wildlife treat awaited us. The cutest little faun and its mother were walking down the forest service road as if it hadn't a care in the world. Its steps were slow but unconcerned, and the little faun trotted in that adorable hopping style we all know from Disney movies.

We geared up and headed up the trail. Our goal was an eight-mile loop, most of which would be easy going, or so we had been told. But the day before had taken much more out of us than we'd thought, and one wrong turn down a well-signaged but unmapped path brought us to Eagle Overlook. From there we could see across the Elwha River to what the map said was "Roosevelt's Meadow," and in it I saw a black shape wandering about. Omaha thought it was a cow, but the camera revealed something much more interesting.

Bear!

It was a black bear, rooting about, walking along a trail stomped through the meadow. We later learned from other hikers that it had been there the day before, as well.

We hiked back up to the main trail, then down another steep switchback to a place called The Goblin Gates. The gates were so named because the swirling water through the gorge reminded some of the first visitors, in the 1920s, of tortured faces. (Bonus Photo: The Goblin Gates). We stopped for lunch, then moved on, walking through a beautiful sylvan wood, passing chipmunks, some of which zipped back and forth behind the tree to keep an eye of us like caffienated micromonkeys, others casually sat in the middle of the path and wondered if we might drop a peanut or two. We didn't.

We decided to ascend back from the riverside trail to the main trail. Little did we know it was an intense climb, and Omaha and I were exhausted by the time we got to the top. We walked a little further along, then reached a landmark called "Michael's Cabin," once the home of a mountain man in the 1890s, then in the 1920s a stayover for a conservationist whose specialty was shooting cougars. (I guess "conservationist" had a different meaning back then).

Michaels Cabin

We walked back without further incident, passing lots of people with multi-day packs, including one couple and their powerwalking fourteen-year-old daughter, who was at least a half mile ahead of her party and seemed to be carrying the bulk of the tent supplies. There were two young men running through the woods, one with a backpack-mounted mini boombox playing music as they made their way through. What's the point of heading out into the peace of the woods when you bring the noise with you?

Americans Love their Fireworks

The drive home was unremarkable, although on the way out we passed by dozens of fireworks shacks getting ready for July 4th, the day Americans freely mix alcohol and explosives. One stand was just huge, a city block-length establishment of nothing but black powder things that go Boom!

We took the ferry home. There was an hour's wait at the ferry stand, so I took the time to read further into the book I'd brought, a contemporary analysis of North Korean propaganda.

We rode home, quickly unpacked the car. It was 8:30pm when we reached the house, so we paused long enough to assure Kouryou-chan and Lisakit that we were well, put Kouryou-chan to bed, and headed out to an anniversary dinner at the local steakhouse.

After a quick shower to get free of the dust of the road, and a round of fresh bandages (I'm not going to have any hair left on my legs after that), we went to bed, and zonked right out.

I was fairly vegetative most of Monday, but I seem to be back to life now.