People and Whale Skulls on the Ozette Loop

A Gray Whale jaw, washed ashore along the Ozette Loop, Washington state

Here I am living in the Pacific Northwest again. It's been an incredibly beautiful summer, the hottest I can remember in this part of the world.

I'm super grateful and excited to have fallen in with a group of women who love to stay fit and hit the trails, be it biking or hiking. We've had several great day hikes in the East Olympic Mountains, and last weekend a group of us piled into my Forester and drove five hours north on the Olympic Peninsula to backpack along the Ozette Loop for two nights.

Some of the gang: Aussie mate and trip organizer Janet (in camo cap), the lovely and ultra-fit Cheryl and Mamo (peaking from background), sweet and entertaining Dawna, and yours truly (in faithful red Marmot jacket)

An easy hike
The trail is triangular, just 9 miles long. It's also supremely flat, with boardwalks over several segments between the beach and Lake Ozette. Given the fact that I haven't strapped 40 pounds to my back for a couple of years, that was just fine with me. 

Of course, the fact that the Ozette Loop is flat, short and relatively accessible also means it's far from uncrowded. More than once one of us remarked about Grand Central Station.

As it turned out, that was ok, too. If you have to bump into other humans whilst backpacking, Pacific Northwesterners, a mellow and friendly breed, are some of the best.

Beachy comparisons

After living in Australia for the past 6 years, including the surreal and indulgent 6-month campervan 360 that first inspired this blog, it's challenging to see Washington state beaches for more than what they're not.

Despite the sun's best efforts, skies and ocean were heavy with 

a damp marine layer our whole weekend

Unlike tropical and sub-tropical Australia, the coast here very often lacks color and warmth. As you can see. (And remember, these images were taken in August — summer!)

They more than make up for this with a staggering array and volume of life, however. Most noticeable are the bird species. Everything from dozens of flocks of little sandpipers up to dozens of individual, giant Golden Eagles. 

Also, hundreds of sea lions. We couldn't make them out through the heavy fog, but we sure could hear the males barking madly on some hidden rocky island offshore, especially at night. 

Tide pools were crawling with hermit crabs and other small lifeforms. Our group noted, though, that no one spotted a single starfish. We theorized about the mysterious Sea Star Wasting Syndrome and wondered about unreported effects on our planet's ocean from the still unfolding Fukushima nuclear disaster. (If you're interested in reading more about what's happening to starfish up here, check this recent article in The Seattle Times.)

Grey, sure, but the topography along the Ozette Loop is far from dull

Interesting find

The ocean along this protruding corner of the USA is more like a big, smooth lake. With the moon fully waned, the tide moved in and out quietly, almost imperceptibly. 

More than once as I gazed out I expected to catch an Orca surfacing with a sharp exhale of her blowhole. Or a glimpse of Morgaine, from The Mists of Avalon, emerge on the bow of a small boat. The mystical atmosphere seemed so ripe for either scene, but unfortunately, neither happened.

No black bears, either. Plenty of deer, though. With no hunters to bother them, a mother and her fawns allowed us to get within a few feet.

There were lots of huge downed tree trunks to clamber under and over, too. That's always a feat when you're top heavy. 

A startling find was stumbling across a whale skull on day two. A Gray Whale, another backpacker informed us. I reflected on the decomposing humpback we discovered walking on a very remote beach in Western Australia, about this time a year ago. This skull belonged to a much smaller and long-dead specimen by comparison.

Most of all, it's just the act of packing food, water and shelter and hitting the trail — any trail, really— that I always find so rewarding. 

With the right people, it's pure delight. This was one of those memorable times. Thanks, everyone.

Breaking camp on our last morning. Tents were wet but spirits were high