Every summer, my son and I go camping. Some years his sister has gone and my wife has started joining us, but there is a lot of quality father/son time. Discussions swirl around knights, swords, native American tribes/practices, foreign places/peoples, battles, gvns, more sword talk, camping skills, camp cooking, and the merits of boxing/judo/Krav Maga/etc… This year, The Ruminator and Stamps-With-Foot conspired against me and planned a trip to Forks, Washington to visit the Twilight tour stops.
The plan was to drive from Seattle to Forks, visiting La Push, and then completing the circumnavigation of the Olympic Peninsula – going from campground to campground. The trip coincided with both Quileute Days and the Squim Lavender Festival – I have a soft spot for lavender. I believe that the side trip to Squim was more of a bribe than anything else as our rainey destination and reason for going didn’t really speak to my heart. My sweet, sweet wife, all her friends, my daughter, and most of the women I know are enamored with the sparkling undead. I prefer my vampires to erupt into flames when exposed to sunlight, but I am old-school like that.
We packed the new truck, Tater, with tents, bags, rain tarps, food, cast iron, ukeleles, wood, sleeping pads, water, more tarps and headed west like 21st century hillbillies. Our first night was spent near a WWII concrete anti-ship fort – we had to explore the depths and gvn emplacements twice in 24 hours… Before heading to Squim, we stopped in downtown Port Townsend and explored the wooden boat center and some of the shops. Another bribe. Wooden boats and I have an unrequited love affair. I can’t have one because I already have a wife and a full-time job, but that doesn’t preclude me from lusting over teak decks, tight joinery, and the naughty brass bits…
The rain came our second night of camping and never really left. There were dry hours where we cooked and played dueling ukuleles, but for the most part the next 4 nights were an exercise in trying to keep from getting soggy. Brodie was along for his first Talley Family camp-a-thon and was not amused. All he wanted to do was sit with his mommy and crawl under the dry blankets in the tent. That whole thing in the books about Forks being the rainest place in the lower 48 rings true for me. We were there in the summer and never dried out, I can only imagine what it is like in the depth of a long grey winter.
Quileute Days was a side stop on our way to the Pacific coast and LaPush. The Ruminator just HAD to swim in the ocean and no amount of persuasion about it being cold, really cold, would change his adolescent, made up mind. After running into the surf and getting slapped in the chest by the first arctic-cold wave, his eyes got huge and he came up gasping for air. He stayed in until his lips turned almost blue and we had to drag him out. I have a sneaking suspicion that his next trip to the coast will involve a wetsuit.
Forks is a former logging town that is full of nice people who still seem a little bewildered by all the attention. Two shops really stand out in my memory (aside from the Twilight one): a tackle shop that had the same organizational system as my grandfather’s garage: “I know it is here somewhere….” mounted fish on the wall, a stuffed mountain lion, and a dog sleeping in her spot by the door. The other shop was an eclectic mix of junk shop, antique store, book store, coffee shop and sandwich counter where we had lunch. If you go to Forks – dragged by your significant other as well – you cant miss the latter; it is on the same side of the street of the now closed Twilight store and just to the north.
This summer taught us a few things:
- Full-on luxury glamping is awesome when you arrive, unload and stay in place, but sucks when you move every night.
- Zombie Gunship played on an iPad in the backseat makes the miles fly by and nary a “Are we there yet?” is uttered.
- Brodie hates camping, the woods, rain, campfires, and the ukelele. Hates.
- Stamps-With-Foot makes a mean gumbo!
- The idea of spending time in the “Wettest place in the lower 48” sounds MUCH better than it is.
- I am more awesomer at checkers than my son
- Lavender ice cream is amazingly yummy
- Flailing about with bullwhip kelp is a fine way to get into trouble
- Bacon fried in a iron skillet over a campfire is another proof the God loves us and wants us to be happy.
- Future summer outings will be less Cormac McCarthy’ The Road (soggy,cold,dirty) and more Endless Summer or Smokey and the Bandit.
