The GPS failed to factor in the last 17 miles up to Hurricane Ridge, where the road twists and turns up the mountainside, forcing cars to drive at 30 miles per hour or less for most of the way. It was a long haul. After a solid three-plus hours of driving, we finally parked up top and got out of the van. It was COLD! like, 50 degrees, foggy, and windy kind of cold. I guess we should've checked the weather report before driving all that way! Haha...oops. Luckily everyone had jackets and once we were on the trail the wind wasn't as bad.
Ready for an adventure!
Lunch in the car--PBJ, with an emphasis on the J.
Since Hurricane Ridge is so popular, most of the loop trail we walked was paved. But it was still exhilarating to be up on the backbone of the Olympic Mountains!
That patch of blue is the Strait of Juan de Fuca, which is the water on the north side of the Olympic Peninsula, between the US and Canada. Eventually the clouds lifted a bit higher and we caught a glimpse of Victoria, BC beyond the strait.
Thin little Rose in her flowery summer dress was the most affected by the chilly air, so I lent her my warm fleece layer and toughed it out in just my rain jacket.
Little Miss Amby Bamby walked nearly half of the mile long trail before claiming her spot on Jeff's shoulders. We discovered a few minutes down the trail that she had a poopy diaper...so that was fun. Maybe the extra bulk kept her warm on our walk?
Those low clouds really put a damper on the usual panoramic views that we remembered from our last visit three years ago, but we pressed onward. Plus this misty look is much more the norm for this area anyways, so we couldn't complain too too much.
2016
2013, same bench, same spot. I ached to see that view again, but I guess this means we'll just have to go back again!
These black tailed deer were everywhere, oblivious to the many enthusiasts snapping pictures of them. Because of where we were, I half expected a vampire to dash out of the woods and snatch a deer.
Legs for days.
The only real view of mountains was back at the parking lot.
It made me want to run and twirl while singing "THE HILLS ARE ALIIIIIIVE WITH THE SOUND OF MUSIC!" but people were not allowed to walk on the grass and disrupt the delicate alpine ecosystem. Alas, I had to respect that.
That mountainous background was unreal!
I propped the camera in our van's open trunk and set the timer for these last two family pictures. The crew was feeling very unwilling and I was feeling peeved that nobody cares about pictures in our family but me. So I forced them to sit there for three more minutes so I could take these pictures. They'll thank me one day. Maybe.
We spent about 2 hours at Hurricane Ridge. I was all for heading to a coastal beach afterwards, but the children were feeling done with the day and once Jeff and I sat down in the warm car, we noticed that we were quite tired too. So although it was heart-wrenching to leave the glorious Olympic Peninsula-of-dreams after spending a mere 2 hours there, we started the long curvy drive back to the lakehouse. On the way we stopped at IHOP for dinner--a true rite of passage for any childhood.
We cruised through another six-plus HP CDs on this adventure and we are very nearly finished with the entire lengthy book. The kids were really getting into it, singing "Weasly is our king!" in the backseat and laughing at all of Fred's and George's pranks. So although the drive was long, it was good. Until Amber got tired and started screaming with an hour to go. I climbed back and held hands with her and she calmed down, screaming every time I tried to let go of her hand. So we held hands for an hour.
Look out, kids, in five years or so we will be doing a family backpacking trip out on the Olympic Peninsula, and it will be epic. Can't wait.
