R and J in the USA

One of the things that makes our relationship work so well is we both love our solitude. Oftentimes, we bond by leaving each other the heck alone. So even though every time we part we are filled with feelings of sadness and missing each other, as soon as we are each off on our own, it becomes “Ryan who?” and “Julie who?” Well, maybe not that extreme. But, like a kid being dropped off at summer camp whose sad hug goodbye to their parents quickly dissolves into the jovial whoops of summertime play, we do enjoy it.

So even though Julie didn’t want Ryan to miss any of the awesome stops to come on the next three days’ adventures, she was immediately loving the solitude. Not to mention, the van is a lot more spacious for one than for two, so she doesn’t mind the chance to spread out a bit more for a couple days. And Ryan certainly doesn’t mind living in a house that doesn’t move for a few days. So, these regular visits home for him have been a win all around. Especially since they are short enough that we can easily delay any serious missing for a handful of days.

The morning of October 7th, Julie had to leave bright and early to make it in time for her scheduled ferry departure to Orcas Island in the famed San Juan Islands. She rode the two hour ferry on a boat overrun by pre-teens on a school trip. She walked through the cloud of adolescence that overtook the scene on the top floor of the ferry, grabbed some fresh air and incredible views, and, after enjoying the preciousness and nostalgia of the pubescent scene, promptly returned to the blissful quiet of her happy place in the van for the duration of the ride. 

Julie drove the Orcas Island roads and passed through the picturesque town of Eastsound, where she imagined living out a life in a such a beautiful spot. She settled in to one of her favorite campsites of the trip at Moran State Park with the van overlooking a lake and a small mountain. She rode her bike through the winding roads of Orcas Island, questioning her sanity while descending the huge hills she knew she’d need to ride back up to return to the van. After returning back hot and sweaty she went to stand waist deep in the water before deciding the look of what may or may not have been algae on the surface wasn’t worth a full swim. Other than those few things floating things that she didn’t feel like messing with, the water was beautiful. The bottom was covered in huge snails, making Julie glad that she had intuitively decided, for the first time, to put on water shoes before entering the unknown water.

Julie left the island sorry that Ryan missed it and certain it would be worth a return for a full week stay someday in the future.

After raiding the local Orcas Island general store for gifts for folks back home, Julie hopped the morning ferry back to Anacortes with a mission in mind. Though she had fallen asleep super early and had been looking forward to catching up on a little sleep, the scritching and scatching that we had been hearing at night made itself entirely known, keeping Julie awake to the movement of critter feet INSIDE the van until she somehow eventually fell asleep in a primal adrenaline rush. She woke up in the morning to the first official signs of rodents that were starting to feel a little too at home, then proceeded to clean up the little mouse poop pellets unceremoniously left on the otherwise clean countertops. 

You can read all about the mouse wars of ‘24 in our Life on the Road section. As these nocturnal beings left Julie’s days unencroached, her daytime adventures carried on despite the nighttime dramas.

Next stop, Olympic National Park at Sol Duc Hot Springs. Julie arrived to a wooded campsite lush with green life filling in every possible gap of land, a stark contrast to the browns and beiges of eastern Washington. 

In a daze from her mouse-interrupted sleep and a long drive, she hopped out of the van and wandered alone in her flip flops through the half mile of trail in the woods to check out the visitors center at the springs, only to arrive at the door of the building to the signs that said “You are in cougar country now. And they see you as food.” Sweet. Perfect. Oh, and also bears. This time, black bears. Julie made the trip back to the van equally alone as the trip out, but painfully more aware of the stupidity of the venture. Remember Julie’s prior statement of her tendency towards idiocy when she is not vigilant. Well, game, set, match. There it is, in all its glory. 

She arrived back at the van without having become a cougar meal and prepped for an evening of mouse battle while otherwise enjoying relaxing in the van surrounded by the smell of moss and Douglas firs.

Once the nocturnal dramas were over for the night, Julie resumed her enjoyment of the world outside of the van surrounded by the gorgeous forests of Olympic National Park. 

More of Julie’s aforementioned moronacity crashed the party the next morning when she remembered that the hot springs operated in hour and a half sessions and she planned her morning to catch the 11-12:30 slot. A great plan except for the fact that the session was actually 10-11:30. So, when she arrived, she only managed to snag 25 minutes hopping between laps in the 65 degree pool and the 106 degree thermal waters. Somehow, though, that felt like enough and she left feeling like a million bucks.

In the original itinerary, Julie had planned to head to Mount St. Helens the next night, another spot she’d been wanting to go to for years and a spot that seemed a must stop to have toured the state of Washington. That said, coming into Washington, Julie knew she needed some extra time to rest, and Mount St. Helens would be over a five hour drive just to get in the vicinity. She flirted with a second night at Sol Duc, the perfect spot to rejuvenate. That said, this trip was not about being on vacation, it was about seeing as much of the nation as possible, and Julie just wasn’t feeling right to keep to the same spot for another night in a region that she knew had tons of awesome spots nearby that would be equally worth a stop. Then she realized exactly where she needed to go. It was one of the original spots she had wanted to see in Washington but had given up to the heap of missed places in the planning stages. She was only 1.5 hours away from Cape Flattery, the northwesternmost point of the continental United States. With only an hour and a half drive to get to it, it would still afford a fairly restful day. This was a no brainer. 

After 25 minutes of thermal soaking, Julie hopped in the van and made the trek northwest. With a quick stop at the teeny town of Clallam’s food co-op to grab some extra vittles, Julie learned a bit more about how the local community feels about the changes made at the Sol Duc Resort and other such beautiful spots in the area over the years. You can read more about it in our People Along the Way section.

Cape Flattery is home to the Makkah Tribe. As you approach their lands there are signs indicating a recreational permit is required to explore the area. They are sold all over the reservation for $20. Julie got her permit and made her way to the parking lot for the short ¾ mile hike to the northwesternmost point of the contiguous US. 

While Julie was deeply enjoying the solitude, she couldn’t help thinking about how much she knew Ryan would love this stop. Visiting the easternmost point of the US at Quoddy Point near Lubec, Maine, had been one of his trip highlights, and this stop was every bit as beautiful. It is neat to hit these extreme points for no other reason than, somehow, it just is. As for the beauty of the spot, the pictures speak for themselves. 

Julie pulled into a local campground that was first come first serve and almost empty, so she had the pick of the litter. All the spots had views of trees, but Julie found one spot that was in view of the twenty yard path to the ocean beach on the other side of the trees. 

While an afternoon rain batted down on the metal sides of the van, Julie popped on some episodes of Murder, She Wrote to enjoy some nostalgic tales of the surprisingly murderous fictional town of Cabot Cove, Maine. She enjoyed some delicious gluten-free ramen and made progress working on various projects. After a while she noticed it was no longer raining and that the afternoon sun was gleaming through the trees. The ocean was calling and Julie headed out to the beach for her first “sea to shining sea” moment of the trip ( Alaska notwithstanding). She went to the water’s edge and cautiously waited for the water to come reach her, noting that these waves looked big, strong, and maybe the type to pull one in farther than intended. Still, she got her toes wet in the Pacific.

When Julie first stepped out of the forest path onto the beach it nearly took her breath away. There are some moments in nature where there is nothing more remarkable about the setting than in any other beautiful nature scene, but there is something transcendent about it that is so perfect that it is hard to put in words. Many folks have been on ocean beaches and they are typically beautiful. And this one was no different, on the surface, anyways. There were waves. There was sand. There were massive seaweed plants washed up upon the shore. There was a layer of beach grasses between the woods and the open sand and there was a sun flirting with the idea of moving towards the horizon for the night. But there was something about everything, how all the colors and air and temperature came together in a way that kicked it to that extra level that is impossible to describe, and can only be relayed to another human being in the hopes that they have also had a similar experience where something that is already beautiful reaches another level that is beyond description and you can just say, yea, one of those, one of those where it’s all just so perfect. It’s in moments like those that the challenge is whether, as a mere human being, you can open your heart enough to relax deeply into the moment to really take in how completely beautiful it is. 

Julie did her best. 

She sat on a massive log that had been flattened on top to make it sittable, just at the edge between the beach and the woods, to take in the scene. Ryan called and she attempted to relay to him a slice of how perfect it was and how much she thought he’d like a visit to Cape Flattery. Before long, they were talking strategy for their reunion the next day. Julie watched the sun set over the ocean and fell asleep with a curiosity about what critter activity awaited her slumber.

After an early morning of writing, Julie hit the road once again for the 4.5 hour drive back to the Seattle airport to grab Ryan after his three day venture home. The solitude box was well checked and we were both looking forward to our reunion.