Lake Quinault Lodge

August 10, 2019

My day began early, when I woke at about 2 AM, and lay awake listening to the soothing sound of the Pacific surf through our open window. Inside our room it was very dark. Inspired by a wall article in the lobby I read last night about dark skies in this remote area and the opportunity to see the heavens filled with stars, I decided to see for myself. As quietly as possible so as to not disturb Rachael, I managed to find my clothes, camera, cellphone (for its flashlight app only, since there is no service here at Kalaloch), wallet (for the key to the bedroom), and let myself out the door.

Outside the lodge it wasn’t as dark as I hoped, because of a few faint lights at the lodge and surrounding cabins. It was dark enough though to see the obvious point that I’d neglected to look for in the room. It was totally overcast. Nothing to be done but take a photo of the bikes locked behind the lodge, as evidence that I’d been intrepid/foolish enough to do this; and head back to the room.

Glad to see that the rides are resting peaceably out here behind the lodge.

Rachael’s day also got off to an early start, at about 2:30, when she was awakened by a knock on the door. Wrong room, she mumbled sleepily to the knocker. It’s me, says I. I’d forgotten that Rachael had taken the key from my wallet at dinner last night, so I’d locked myself out.

At six I woke again, redressed myself, and went out to walk on the beach before breakfast. It was brilliant. There were only two other human parties on the long beach, plus a belt of roughly a thousand gulls clustered alongside the shore by the mouth of the creek, along with assorted peeps, crows and swallows.

Hard to stop taking photos of the gulls, when you’re staring at a thousand of them.

We have a short, easy ride today - 33 miles, nearly all on highway 101. Our goal, as it was yesterday, is to get our miles in early and spend most of the day at the lodge. We opened up the restaurant at 7, had a great breakfast at a window table overlooking the sea, and were on the road before 9.

I’ve started each of these days on 101 anxious about what we would find in the way of road conditions - it’s been pretty uneven, but disappearing shoulders and menacing traffic both seem like strong possibilities. The agent at the lodge is encouraging though - he says that logging trucks are the big concern, but there will be none today because they don’t work weekends. He’s proven right on this - we didn’t see a single log truck today, and only a few others. And, this early in the day there is very little traffic of my kind.

The first ten miles go quickly and pleasantly - a surprisingly fine ride really, with an abundant shoulder, almost empty roads, and a glassy pavement that seems recently resurfaced. At one point we’re startled by a black bear lumbering across the road a few hundred yards ahead of us.

Ten miles into the ride, and things degrade a bit. The shoulder narrows to perhaps 18 inches, the surface degrades to chip seal, and the traffic gradually picks up volume. Still, not an unpleasant or worrisome ride.

The first ten miles looked much like this - smooth road, good shoulder, no traffic - alone in a green-walled canyon.

The last photo from today’s ride. The rain began soon after this and the cameras went into the dry bag.

Five miles later, it starts raining. The agent at the hotel hadn’t warned us of this possibility, and we couldn’t check the weather report ourselves since there’s no WiFi available at the lodge.

After 25 straight days of fine, dry weather we have no grounds at all for griping about a little rain. Still though, it left us a bit unprepared. The possibility of rain hasn’t really crossed our mind lately, and we haven’t been packing for it. My walking shoes are on the back of my bike, covered by my rain jacket but otherwise unprotected. We’ve brought rain boots and probably should be using them, but Rachael’s are buried at the bottom of her pannier, not easily accessible, so we decide to just ride it out and hope we don’t get too soaked.

Ten miles later we’re pretty wet. There’s enough rain that the road is starting to channel water and we alternate by biking in the traffic lane along a drier line and then back in the stream to avoid overtaking cars. Fortunately though the rains finally taper off and then quit and we have a dry five final miles to the lodge. We arrive at noon as planned, and not so soaked as to be embarrassed when we check in.

Our room wasn’t available for another three or four hours, so after changing into dry clothes we left our baggage in a storage room, grabbed a light lunch at the nearby Mercantile, and sat around in the lounge by the huge fireplace until we were warmed up. Next stop, a trip up the road a mile to see a big tree - the largest known Sitka Spruce. Rachael walked, planning to continue on from there with a longer hike; but I took Rodriguez, intending to change me back to the lounge and start catching up on the journal.

Rodriguez hides in the weeds while I’m off tree hunting. He’s unlocked, since the lock is back at the lodge cabled to the Straggler.

Big. Very big. 191 feet tall, 59 foot circumference, a thousand years old.

We met at the tree by coincidence, so I put her to work as a photo prop.

Even better collection of props to make my point. Big tree.

Rachael was gone for a few hours on her hike through the forest, arriving just in time for dinner but sore-legged. We’re hoping that she hasn’t pulled or strained anything. We enjoyed dinner at a window seat overlooking the lawn and lake, enjoying a charming scene unfold - a small wedding ceremony out on the yard, apparently multicultural. The bride was blond, the groom either Native American or Japanese (Rachael and I reached different conclusions on this). There were two ministers, a man and a woman, performing the rites in series - apparently reflecting different customs. Two photographers stalked the event, one presumably the official photographer for the wedding, and the other an adolescent who we surmised was his son and apprentice, taking cues from and mimicking him.

After dinner I went on my own hike - a three and a half mile loop along the woods and through the rain forest. A fine walk, but one that left me a bit anxious as the woods grew darker and I realized I’d stepped out into the wilderness without a phone or flashlight. I kept a good pace the final two miles and was pleased when I finally saw the outline of the lodge through the trees.