Though Shane was up at the crack of dawn back in October trying to secure us a summer campsite on Orcas Island, he had no luck – I thought he was the only guy that planned camping trips nine months in advance, but apparently there are other people that wait with bated breath for site reservations to open up. Foiled! We weren’t just gonna roll over and give up our lakeside dreams, though. Nancy and I did a bit of research and found ourselves four nights at a lovely waterfront site at Lake Quinault on the Olympic Peninsula. Pack that paddleboard!
Juliette and I met the Rusts at camp on a Wednesday evening at the end of July – Shane had stayed back in Seattle for a job interview, with the promise that he would join us by the end of the week. Juliette barreled down the road on her scooter with the boys while I set up camp.
Our tent turned out to be a bit big for the site, but Jason and Jordan came up with a totally solid workaround.
It had been a long day of packing and driving and missing Shane, but I washed away any residual angst with a sunset paddle.
We lounged around camp Thursday morning, enjoying the water view and a poetry reading by Jason around the campfire. This is about as mellow as it gets!
We eventually rallied for a mid-day hike at Graves Creek, where we strolled among the Sitkas and crossed paths with a couple of llamas.
Juliette lost steam mid-way through the hike and I was fresh out of Skittle bribes to coax her along. MAJOR kudos to Jason for somehow getting her to skip-jog the two miles back to the car!
We returned to camp hot and tired and ready for a dip. This stretch of beach next to our site turned out to be headquarters for the rest of the week.
These PNW lakes! Nothing better.
I love this kid’s summer uniform.
The rest of the gang, including Shane, rolled up Thursday evening. Shane got right to work moving our tent (he was having none of that propped-up corner business) and then settled in for chili and s’mores.
We zipped ourselves into our tents on Thursday night just as the rain started; before long the gentle pitter-patter had turned into a full-on all-night downpour. I burrowed deeper into my sleeping bag, crossing my fingers that the storm would pass by morning – we had so much more paddling to do! I thought we had paid our rain-dues at Rainier! I know the weather-gods actually don’t keep track of such things, but Friday was…magic, actually! Those pics coming up next.