GimletBlog

A beach at low tide is an open invitation to indulge one’s inner Maturin. And on northwest coast beaches, it’s impossible not to notice the immense tangles of bull kelp (Nereocystis luetkeana), an alga that grows up to 70 feet long. As the ocean tears them loose from rocks, they wash ashore in almost braidlike patterns.

We didn’t see any of our usual anenomes, sea stars, or other tidal creatures (Second Beach has a much better selection of tidepools than Rialto) but we did find a couple of interesting items. It’s been a long time since I saw a jellyfish, and this one was still in very good condition. Don’t touch!

Calling all zoologists (armchair and otherwise) — any guesses as to the original owner of this bone? We think it’s an ischium of some sort. It’s slightly flexible, suggesting that it may have belonged to a juvenile. Click on the picture for a better look, and be patient as the images are large. As with our hobo spider guessing game (lost in June’s server crash), please post your answers in the comments.

The trail to Cape Flattery didn’t have many mushrooms yet, but I think we saw a brown amanita, some angels’ wings (Pleurocybella porrigens), and perhaps a few rosy russulas (Russula rosacea).

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To add some variety to our usual beach weekend, we wanted to see Cape Flattery, the furthest northwest point of the contiguous United States. This side trip would also give us the chance to explore some back roads and small towns. After leaving Forks, we drove north 10 miles to the 101-113 junction, then 10 miles along Highway 113 until it joined up with Highway 112. Once 112 enters the town of Clallam Bay, it’s also known as the Cape Flattery Tribal Scenic Byway. The road follows the sharp curves of the coastline northwestward along the Strait of Juan de Fuca through the tiny fishing villages of Clallam Bay and Sekiu, and Canada’s Vancouver Island is easily visible in the not-too-far distance. (more…)

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As long as I’ve been taking vacations on the coast, we’ve stayed in Forks, a town situated about twenty miles east of the ocean, populated by about 3,000 people and the only traffic signal in 160 miles of highway. It’s not at all touristy, but the citizens are friendly and there are enough motels, restaurants, and shops to make it our favorite base camp for exploring the Olympic Peninsula. (If my description seems terse, attribute it to reluctance to wholly expose a favorite getaway — a mixture of love, pride, and delicacy, if you will.) We shared our motel with several participants in the weekend’s Last Chance Salmon Derby ($1000 prizes for the biggest Coho and Chinook each), who headed out between 3 — 5 am. But the first high tide of the day peaked just before 8 am, so we weren’t in any rush to get up.

We arrived at Rialto Beach at 10:00 am. The parking lot is on the other side of the driftwood line and a short, level walk from the beach. Facilities around the parking lot include restrooms, running water, and a few picnic areas with fire pits. These features help make Rialto one of the most accessible beaches on the peninsula, and especially appealing on a sunny, early fall morning. (more…)

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As much as I love living in the city, it’s always a delight to spend time in places where there are more trees than people, the air is clean, and you can see the stars at night. And with the plumbing finished, The Gimlet was willing to make our oft-postponed trip to the northwest coast. We left town mid-afternoon after school. There are two ferry routes from Seattle to the Olympic Peninsula: Bainbridge and Edmonds-Kingston. Leery of downtown traffic, we decided to head north to the Edmonds-Kingston ferry. Traffic was light, the line was surprisingly short for a Friday afternoon, and we were able to board the first available ferry. (more…)

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