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Saturday |
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The guide to hotsprings ("soakers" in pacific northwest parlance) said Olympic Springs was an easy two mile hike up a faultline road that had been closed and was reverting back to nature. What the book didn't know is that nature is impatient and when we got there the trailhead had been pushed back another 5 miles due to washouts and slumping and fallen big pines hundreds of years old. We camped on what used to be a scenic overlook for automobiles. The setting crescent moon shed just enough light for pounding tent spikes with stones (we forgot the hatchet) as one by one stars gathered in the darkening dome, the distant lights of the Elwah dam below the only reminder that where we were wasn't all that remote. |
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all roads lead to ruin |