--- WARNING: SOME CONTENT UNSUITABLE FOR MINORS ---
Tue 13 Aug 2019
Today was the day we hoped to get back on track with our travel arrangements, following yesterday’s puncture and plans gone awry. We’d gone to bed early last night, intending to make an early start on reaching Ozette. We would enjoy a coastal walk there, then depart Ozette in good time to head south-east towards Mount St Helens for a couple of nights, staying in DNR campsites. They would now be free to use with our Discover Pass, so long as we arrived early enough to secure a place (‘first come, first served’).
Things were perfect as we drifted off to sleep, lulled by the adjacent, shallow river rippling gently over stones and boulders. It seemed our ‘early to bed, early to rise’ aspirations would be fulfilled. Then we were awoken by a nearby (nice, but raucous) group of motorcycle campers. They finally settled down around midnight, and all was at peace once more, until...
A few seconds later, we became aware that, obscured by the previously rowdy bunch, the people on the pitch beside us were talking in a continuous low drone punctuated with frequent ‘hee-hee-hee-hee-hee-hee-hee-hee’ chuckles. Although not very loud, the noise carried easily in the quiet night (tent fabric has no sound insulation qualities whatsoever), and the droning and chuckling had all the persistence and annoyance of a dripping tap. It went on, and on, and on – until just before 4:30 a.m.
It is so difficult to know when and how to intercept these things without seeming like the local Grinch. With a tent, there isn’t even a door to knock on. You convince yourself that your antagonists must soon realise that they are the only ones still yakking and will shut up of their own accord. They don’t, of course. Then you worry that they’ll be drunk and abusive. Then you find you’ve dallied so long that you’ve lost the chance to say anything at all. I find it incredible how people can be so unaware and/or inconsiderate of their impact.
Next morning, your adversaries have finally fallen asleep, but you can’t even go and make lots of noise right outside their tent. They are probably in the deepest of alcohol- or exhaustion-induced sleeps, and all you’d achieve would be to disturb other neighbours who also copped it right through the night, the same as you. If those other neighbours are lucky enough not to have to be up early, then it is more thoughtful to let them slumber.
To be honest, we’ve had people keep us awake with worse than night-time blethering or loud parties. When sharing a tiny, four-bunk, mixed dorm with strangers on our first travels, the other couple, after some middle-of-the-night room-swapping shenanigans, woke us with their increasingly amorous behaviour. Trapped silently in our bunks (furthest from the door) – in disbelief, fearing where it might lead but uncertain how best to stop it – we realised we’d left it too late and had to feign sleep whilst enduring the whole thing to conclusion.
When it all started up again twenty minutes later (whilst I was overtly reading a book by torchlight, far too disturbed to sleep), we knew exactly when to intervene. Within three seconds, Dave had marched furiously past them and, shortly after, had the manager throw them out of the dorm.
Unsurprisingly, we chose to stay in single-gender dorms for a long time after that, despite the nuisance of sharing toothpaste and shampoo when based in two different rooms. We then realised how lightly we’d got off. A girl in my very first dorm had just had a similar experience to us – but she was in the top bunk and had awoken to events taking place directly below in the bottom bunk. She couldn’t escape and, not only did she have sound effects, but a full motion experience.
Blimey, it’s rife! I’ve since been told that a s-l-o-w clap, long ‘stage’ yawn, or series of loud farts if you can muster them to order, can help take the romantic edge off such situations. Well, now, there’s a travel tip with a difference ... remember, you heard it here first!
Anyhow, back on topic ... next morning, we forced ourselves out of bed just after 6 a.m., even though far from refreshed. Over breakfast, we consoled ourselves by muttering angrily with Megan, the woman who was sharing our pitch and had also been kept awake all night by the chuntering neighbours. Brenda (the campsite host) passed by and commented that she wasn’t at all surprised by our neighbours’ selfishness. They had already proved themselves complete oafs yesterday by camping on the dedicated disabled pitch several hours ahead of 6 p.m. (this is the cut-off time at which the DNR disabled pitches open up to all comers). She’d asked them to move to another pitch or wait until 6 p.m., but they’d rudely refused, then jaunted off for the afternoon.
We made a pack-up for lunch, then de-camped and managed to leave the campsite just before 8:25 a.m. We headed all the way back out to Ozette, nearly 2 hours’ drive away – but a pleasant journey, during which we managed to avoid yesterday’s pothole and enjoyed seeing various dark-headed deer ambling amongst vegetation alongside the increasingly quiet roads.
[Use arrows or swipe to scroll photos.] Inland was attractive...
The triangular, nine mile walk from Ozette Lake out to and along the coast from Sand Point to Cape Alava, then back to Ozette Lake, was even more beautiful than we remembered from our visit in 2001. The path and boardwalk (in places, rather in need of repair) to and from the coast was attractive, passing both tall and short trees as well as ferns, but the three mile coastal section was spectacular, with sea stacks, shards and small islands just offshore.
[Use arrows or swipe to scroll photos.] But the coast was spectacular!
There were barking seals and cormorants and other seabirds, small, scuttling crabs in reds, oranges and black, and, a few metres inland of Cape Alava, an 18 inch (45 cm) black snake with a red line down its back. It may or may not have been venomous, but was not at all threatening as it wriggled quickly away from the path just a few feet from the girls.
[Use arrows or swipe to scroll photos.] Offshore sea stacks and the hole in the rock.
The history of the region is interesting. The Makar tribe, still around Ozette Lake today, have occupied the area for thousands of years – in fact, from about the time that the Pharoahs ran Egypt. The Makar were skilled fishermen, who made use of ingenious fishhooks and baskets of cedar bark, and went whaling from 8-man cedar log canoes, using harpoons set with sealskin floats like huge balloons to slow the diving whale, whilst back-paddling vigorously to avoid the dangerous flick of the huge tail.
It wasn’t until much later that the first pioneering settlers moved in, eventually building more than 30 homesteads around the lake by the early 1890s. But there was no road, and the journey to and from the area remained arduous – by steamer, then canoe and then a trek of several miles through the dense forest, hauling all their belongings on their backs. The settlers hoped for a road. By the time it came, over 40 years later, most of the settlers had left, and nature had already begun to reclaim the land.
Feeling rejuvenated and in good spirits, we set off for the drive south-east towards Mount St Helens. We wouldn’t get far as we wanted to stop at a DNR campsite overnight before all the pitches were taken, but it would enable us to set off early next day and press on with our long journey. Surely, everything would be smooth-running for us now...
Comments