Hurricane Ridge

It was rainy on my last day in Washington last week and I found myself in Olympic National Park, Hurricane Ridge to be specific.

I didn't mind at all that our view was obstructed. When you are at your final destination on a trip, one that you've dreamed of seeing for ages, you're just happy to be there. I'm sure these guys felt the same.

We did see a glacier up close and personal. That counts, right? Because it's October and the ice is still there? Anyone?

This was our view, which didn't showcase the Olympic Mountains at their peak, but I still found it to be pretty spectacular.

It started to clear up as we headed down the mountain.

And just beyond that ridge ... Canada!

We drove around Lake Crescent towards the other side of the park and the other natural treasures in store.

Port Angeles By Night

The next destination on our Washington itinerary was Olympic National Park, waaaay north just across the bay from Vancouver, Canada. Did I mention I have never been to Canada before? Or seen it, despite living in Northern Wisconsin for 4 years of my life.

My dad assured me it was a good 30 miles away and that I wouldn't be able to see much. He was much more impressed by the giant ferry boat propellers-turned-art installation. And so, rolling into Port Angeles right at 5 when it was too late to do anything else, we got ourselves settled in and made the most of our time by taking a night stroll around town.

Blown glass sea creatures and sidewalk sculptures.

Ferry boats and boardwalks.

Locals ...

... cuisine ...

... and a beautiful town.

City of Murals

A day trip to the old cowboy town of Toppenish gave me a chance to catch up on local art. The town is covered in murals, one commissioned each year to honor the community's history and culture.

No surprise they call it the "city of murals." Enjoy the mini-tour!

This one was my favorite.

And though it's totally unrelated, let me just share a couple obligatory apple tree photos, from apple capital of the planet. It was a big deal for me, since the branches were bare when I came to visit last December.

Mount Saint Helens or Bust

After cruising along the Columbia River Gorge and heading into Washington state on our way to my aunt and uncle's house, a mysterious mountain loomed ahead.

Actually, we had to exit and drive a ways first, but then we saw it ... Mount Saint Helens, the stuff from geology class made of legends from the 80s.

It's been over 30 years, and the treeline is still barely starting to recover from the famous volcanic blast.

Here you can see the once snow-capped mountain that blew its top in a nine hour stew of gases and ash. Well, the build up to it lasted much longer, as you can imagine.

Eight foot diameter trees were snapped off their roots and the sound barrier was smothered for 30 miles around. My uncle remembers his apple farm getting covered in ash over 100 miles away, and a visitor from Ohio told me that ash snowed into her pool from that fateful day.

That's one mountain I think I'll skip climbing.