from Sequim to Olympia, with excursions to Neah Bay and Lake Wynoochee

The best vacations are a mix of planning and moment's spurs. We had an open itinerary: leaving Monday morning and back by Wednesday evening. Beyond that, it was up to us, the guidebook, fate, and the weather. Us: myself, my wife, and my mother- and sister-in-law. The guidebook: Moon Handbooks: Washington. Fate: unemployed. The weather: mostly good.

Monday
After setting up camp in the Sequim Ramada--"You do have a room here, you know," said the attendant, "And your tent is messing up the ceiling fan."--we surveyed the downtown, noted the copious lavendar sprigs, and ultimately decided to head north to the fabled Dungeness Spit. We walked the first half mile, arriving too late to attempt the 5.5 mile trek to the lighthouse. Didn't matter: a splendid view of the Olympics, waves battering the spit, balmy breezes. (Photos here.)

Dinner was decent homestyle pizza at Tarcisio's, where we enjoyed "Cookie on the Road to Chimacum," the true story of a dog rescued from death's door, which for some reason the management finds fit for dinnertime reading. Overwhelmed, we returned to the hotel to rest up for another day's adventure.

Tuesday
Ominous clouds hung over Sequim as we left camp, heading for Neah Bay, the Makah Museum, and Cape Flattery. As we drove down 101, branching off at 112, approaching the northwesternmost point of the lower 48, the sun broke through, but quickly retreated behind dense fog.

The Makah Museum was well worth the $5 admission ($4 for students). A nice treat for me was seeing the work of Alex McCarty on display. (I first learned of his craft back in my Evergreen days, since he was in my MIT cohort.)

After lunch, we drove eight miles out to the Cape Flattery trail, a half-mile jaunt through rainforest to the edge of the world. (Photos here.) Unfortunately, the fog obscured Tatoosh Island, but closer views of sea stacks, crashing waves, and a golden eagle more than made up for the disappointment.

We eventually drove back to Sequim, this time taking a chance on Danny's Country Place, proclaiming itself to be the Best Barbecue in Western Washington. Do not eat there. No self-respecting barbecue joint plays classical music or has pictures of wine bottles and pasta on the wall, not to mention wallpaper from grandma's bathroom. Mediocre food. Avoid at all costs.

Wednesday
"Why not." A motto for minimal planning, the order of the day. We decided to return to Olympia by driving all the way around the Olympic Peninsula, passing by Lake Crescent (gotta vacation there someday), breezing through Forks, detouring to see the world's largest (almost dead) Duncan Memorial Cedar, and stopping for lunch at Ruby Beach (photos here).

Roadbound again, we passed the most expensive gas station in Washington, 3.79 per gallon, regular unleaded, at the Kalaloch Lodge. (It's forty cents cheaper fifteen minutes down 101. Suckers.) As we approached Hoquiam, I saw a sign for Wynoochee Lake. "Why not skip Hoquiam?" I asked aloud, and no one said "because," so we braved the dirt road and spent a half hour driving to the southern reaches of the Olympic National Forest. Once we arrived, surprise of surprises, my parents were there, hanging out with some friends. After my mom revived, we spent an indolent afternoon in the sun, eventually leaving via the western exit to cross paths with Highway 12, the road home.