A Quick Change in the Weather

I wrote the following post yesterday in Kalaloch, which is on the coast in Olmpic Park, Washington.  However, Kalaloch is in a little bit of a remote location with no Starbucks or reliable Verizon signal so it had to wait until today to get posted.  Now, I'm sitting (where else) in a Starbucks somewhere along I-5 on my way to visit Vince, a friend from high school, in Bellevue.  

A sad soul can kill you quicker, far quicker, than a germ.

--John Steinbeck

This morning brought a change in the weather.  I hopped out of my van at about 7:00am and found that a dense, mushy fog had moved into the campground overnight, replacing the sunlight and relative warmth from just the day before.  A heavy layer of condensation coated my van and my bike, and I regretted not putting a tarp over my bike before going to bed last night.  Wanting to get an early start on the drive up to Kalaloch Campground, I unplugged the power connection from my van, disconnected my blue water supply hose, and got everything inside secured. (On one of my first days driving my RV, I had placed many items on the kitchen counter. 

Campsite at Kalalch this morning when the sun came out

They protested violently at this as I rounded my first turn and they all flew ungraciously to the floor.  Also, two drawers flew open on another corner, so I have since built a checklist for battening down the hatches before I drive anywhere).

My first stop of business was, of course, at a Starbucks.  Their cunning promotion of extra stars conned me into getting an Iced Cinnamon Chai Latte—something I would usually not order, but Starbucks knows I’m an easy mark for bonus reward points.   I found a café that was on my way out and only 4 miles from the campground.  I ordered my drink, sat down, and logged on to the wireless network.  Disappointingly, though, their network service at that particular store was quite slow so I didn’t stay long.  I finished my drink, got back in my van, and pointed it north along 101.  As I drove, rain speckled my window in varying degrees—so light at times that I hardly needed the wipers, to a full torrent at other times.  It came and went the entire time across the nearly 150 miles to Kalaloch.  When I finally arrived, the rain had taken pause just long enough for me to select a campsite and get setup. 

Kalaloch Campground has some fantastic camp spots to choose from. It is situated on a bluff, right above the ocean.  Several spots are literally on the edges of the cliffs and provide a view of the sand and the water. 

Driftwood logs strewn on the beach

However, a strong, blustery wind talked me into picking a spot that had a few small sheltering trees and bushes around it.  I backed my van into spot E10 and went through what has become my routine of arrival:  park, make sure the van is level, fix lunch, go explore.  As I arrived, I noticed  that other campers were wearing thick coats, knit caps, long dark pants, and dark shoes.I jumped out of in swim trunks, a t-shirt, and sandals when checking if I did an adequate job of parking.  Verifying that my van was straight, and that I was indeed underdressed, I got back in, made my lunch of tuna salad with apples and red pepper, put on some sweats and shoes, and then took off for the exploring part.  I found a short set of rough stairs carved into the cliff that led down to the beach. The cloud-stuffed sky and the thrashing surface of the ocean were both the color of old, faded asphalt, and they merged indistinguishably somewhere near the invisible horizon.  The beach had been assaulted at the top with old driftwood logs; they looked like the wasted bones of giant beasts that had been tossed aside after some even larger beast’s meal.  Millions of carcasses of by-the-wind sailors painted the air with their salty smell. A bullying wind stole heat from my cheeks and nose and fingers, and pushed its way through my sweatshirt, trying to further rob me of my warmth.  I could hear a few seagulls crying overhead, their voices nearly drowning in the sounds from the billowing wind and crashing water.  Everything was cold and harsh and bleak. 

But there was a certain unique beauty to the scene as well.  Several large pieces of driftwood stood like solitary beacons at random spots on the beach.   

This looked almost like it was meticulously placed here

 They looked like pieces of artwork that had been shaped by the hands of a skilled sculptor, rather than by the icy fingers of the ocean, wind, and sand.  They were twisted and glorious, their surfaces smooth, yet showing the lines of different layers of bulk that they had added over their years in life.  You could almost see varying forms in their mangled masses: the face of a barking dog, the lithe limbs of dancers on a stage, flames jumping from a crackling fire.  With a bit of imagination, their surfaces turned into scenes on a screen rather than just tangled bits of wood.  As I progressed further down the beach, I came across a tree that was growing on the edge of the bluff, but appeared to have literally had the ground washed right out from below it.  It was tenaciously clinging to two sides of a small valley, its entire root system exposed and hanging in mid-air.  The roots that made contact with the land seemed to be clawing at the surface, gripping it with all their might in order to hold the tree up.  

This tree was trying to escape

It looked almost as if it had at one time been at the bottom of  the crevice and was slowly trying to climb its way out.  I explored further down the beach, gingerly climbing over weathered logs, testing each one briefly before stepping on it to be sure it wouldn’t roll from underneath me.  Suddenly, drops of rain started falling again.  The howling wind blew them    into my face, making it seem like more rain than there really was.  I stuffed my hands into my pockets, tipped my head down so that the brim of my hat sheltered my eyes, and leaned into the wind and headed towards to my van anticipating a downfall of rain any moment.  As I got near the stairs back up the bluff, though, the sky opened and a glimmer of sun poked through.  Slowly, the heavy clouds dispersed and an increasing amount of blue spread above me to the west.  For about ten minutes, it was a complete change in the mood of the beach.  The cold wind was still violently licking at the logs and stirring up the dry bits of sand, but the sunlight had chased away some of the gray and made the beach feel just a tad bit warmer.  It was amazing how a simple change in light transformed the whole scene briefly.  The dreariness lifted, the dead logs almost gained a bit of life, and the sea seemed a bit less threatening.   There was such a thin line between the two, literally just a matter of minutes.  I suppose it is the same with other things in life too:  sometimes when everything seems dreary and oppressive, it’s really not that far away to things being better.  A little smile, a bit of humor, and a better mood can change an entire environment just as quickly as a break in the rain.

Merely minutes later the sun broke through