Exploring the American Wilderness and Other Adventures

Olympic Coast North: Shipwreck Coast, Olympic National Park, Washington

If walking on Legos for 20 miles sounds fun, I have the hike for you. I have never been angry while hiking until this adventure. Actually, that is not true. There have been a couple of times that Barbarian Scientist’s family did something so offensive that it caused anger, and we went angry hiking until it became happy hiking. They expect that by shaming him or rejecting him, he will revert to being compliant with their toxic family systems. However, like a normal and healthy person, it actually increases his appreciation for all those in his life who have been and are supportive of who he is now. To know the Weirdo With A Beardo is to love him. He knows this, which means the chapter of dealing with his awful family and their addictions and co-dependency has ended. 

Walking on Legos. A zero-star fun time. This route is the first hike in Backpacking Washington, by Craig Romano, described as: Seventeen contiguous miles of some of the prettiest and wildest coastline in North America await you on this adventure. Pass sea stacks, natural arches, caves and coves, reefs, tide pools, cliffs, and silver strands of spectacular sandy beaches. Watch seals, scout for whales, listen to pool-probing oystercatchers and snag-sitting eagles add their own notes to the pounding surf. Along the way, visit two shipwreck memorials where voices in the wind speak of those who perished along this remarkable stretch of sea.

I have had some adventures in other parts of Olympic National Park. I wrote about those here. Washington is incredible. The Olympic National Park is a huge reason why Washington is so beautiful. Being one of the last temperate rainforests in the US, with over 3,000 miles of rivers, more than 600 miles of trails, 73 miles of coastline, 60 named glaciers, and over 12 feet of annual rainfall, the Olympic National Park is a vibrant paradise. When TrailKat successfully got a permit for this trail, I did everything I could to be well enough for the adventure.

Coeur d’Alene, Idaho, to the trailhead was a ten-hour drive. We took two vehicles so that we did not have to manage to schedule a shuttle. We left one vehicle at Rialto Beach, and then we all drove to Ozette Campground together. 

The hike begins on an old, rickety, beautiful boardwalk that winds through the rainforest for 3 miles to the coastline.

We hiked about 4.5 miles on the first day and camped at South Sand Point Beach. The beach was an incredible place to throw up a tent and enjoy the falsely optimistic thoughts about what would come. 

The following day was total bullshit. Well, not totally. TrailKat, J Go, My Therapist, Trail Magic, and I dealt with climbing slippery rocks covered in slimy seaweed through endless hours of thick mist and no sunshine. I spent 128-ish hours ranting about how this was not real, that the guidebook and trail reports we had read were fake, and that no one had ever actually hiked this bullshit of a “trail” before. I decided it was all a simulation, and we were the punch line of jokes we didn’t know.  The lack of other backpackers and the frequency of dead whales and shipwrecks strongly indicated that we did not belong there. 

Although much of this route was truthfully not fun, the actual challenge was how dialed in your mind had to be 100% of the time and how slow it was to make progress. Every step required calculation and awareness. Even with acute awareness, most of us ate shit at least once and left the trail looking like a battered housewife. 

To add to the stress, while we were following tide schedules and fighting the algae so we could remain upright and move forward, we learned via Garmin Inreach that wildfires were encroaching on our homes, and the county that some of us live in was declared a state of emergency and were elevated to level 3 evacuation. 

At the same time, we discovered that the driver of the car we left at Rialto had left their keys in the car we left at Ozette. That meant that when we arrived in Rialto, we would have the car without access to it. 

Sometimes (all the time), part of the joy of backpacking is shedding the weight of the world so you can better carry the weight of your pack. This adventure was the exception – our weight was heavy on our shoulders and our minds. I own my part in this. I struggle to know my needs in this new phase of life, and it is hard when those unnamed needs are not being met. Group dynamics have highlighted where I am suffering, leaving me feeling left out, vulnerable, and afraid to communicate.

A treacherous trail, wildfires, and now transportation logistics gone sideways. That was the trifecta required for most of the group to become sensible and know we needed help.

Despite the lack of other hikers during the first ten miles of this hellscape, we found it surprisingly populated when we landed at Kayostia Beach and the Norwegian Memorial on day 2. Which means we saw maybe ten other people. We learned that a forest road was one mile from this particular beach. We talked with some people, and they were willing to take one of us back to Ozette Campground to get the car we had left there and the key to the other car. Unfortunately, they offered to help very late the following morning, which meant that most of us were stranded on the beach for an entire day waiting for the return. If I could do it over, though, I would have continued the route solo. Regrets. 

The trail is 20 miles. We completed a little over half. Despite everyone belly laughing over the potential accuracy of my rants and despair at the miserable experience, we managed to survive and will probably, stupidly, do it again. 

I shocked myself with how frustrated and disappointed I was in the group for not completing the trail. It did not help that I spent the last night and morning completely sick to my stomach. I was irrationally upset. I have never walked off trail before, and I knew I would have finished if I were alone. Now that I have space from the feeling, I know I was upset about being sick – not just at that moment, but from cancer. I feel like I have immense pressure to DO THE THINGS before I run out of time, and I felt threatened, sad, and left out of the conversations the others were having about returning “some day” to finish it. Sometimes it seems like no one understands or even tries to care that I do not get to count on “someday” arriving. And that feeling promotes further isolation and leaves me alone with my grief. 

Once we all parted ways into our original carpooling groups to return home, MyTherapist wisely suggested we do one more thing – visit the Tree of Life. The Tree of Life was beautiful. The reverence that surrounds the tree is felt deeply.

It was here that I broke down sobbing, admitting how sad I was. It was here that I felt heard and seen for a moment. And it was here that I knew I had to keep moving forward.