Convincing Megan to come along on this lengthy journey confined to an RV with three kids for a good part of the month of July took some persuasion and good old-fashioned bribery. The most effective enticement was the promise of seeing the towns and beaches that make up the setting for the Twilight novels. In full disclosure, I must admit that I was also intrigued; however, if it weren’t for that promise to Megan, we might have missed some of the most beautiful scenery in America.
After the ferry docked and we cleared customs, we headed straight for the Safeway in downtown Port Angeles. From the looks of the town, I didn’t expect much of the local grocery store; however, what I discovered was a foodie heaven. From produce to wine selection, this Safeway didn’t disappoint. Side note to interested parties: Washington may be worth the visit simply for the ridiculously low prices on decent to good bottles of wine. I spent $6 on a Chateau St. Michelle Pinot Gris that would easily have been in the $12 to $14 range at home. Score! With the RV fully stocked, we eagerly set out.
Our route took us around the horn of the Washington peninsula, the mainland’s most western point. Going west on the 101, the road followed a winding and curvy path through a thickly wooded pine forest and alongside several sparkling glacier lakes. The water in these lakes was so clear that you could see the rocks at the bottom of the teal blue water. The road rose only a few feet from the shores of the lakes and offered several spots to pull off the road. When we finally stopped, we took off our shoes and walked into the lake surprised that it wasn’t as cold as we imagined. If it were possible, we might have set up camp right there and stayed for a swim; however, we had to press on.
After an hour of driving, we left the lake area thinking that we had seen the most beautiful places we could possibly see on that day. We were wrong. A few miles North of Forks is the turn off for LaPush, the reservation of the Quileute people and home to the beaches known as First, Second, and Third. A couple of miles off of the 101 onto 110 the once bright blue skies became eerily grey and cloudy. The dividing line between sun and clouds was strikingly definitive. We were driving into a thick bank of coastal fog.
Both Second and Third Beaches are obscured from the road by a dense pine forest and required a hike to reach. Unequipped for a hike and with sleeping kids in the RV, we were becoming discouraged. Just then we entered the center of town and the views of the beaches opened. First Beach lay straight ahead and was unlike any beach I had ever seen or imagined, and I’m not unfamiliar with Northwest beaches. This beach was different. It appeared wild and untamed and somewhat unwelcoming. This was not a beach for relaxing. I got the feeling that when on this beach you must remain alert to danger. I had no idea what that danger could be… maybe only the weather. It didn’t matter. I just knew we were certainly not meant to idyll there in that unresponsive way we can on a Florida beach. In terms of literature, this beach was not a Nora Roberts paperback. It was a survival manual.
In the town behind me, handmade signs advertising smoked salmon were everywhere as were tidy but modest wood framed houses. The community center in the middle of the town was freshly painted and embellished with the tribal symbols for the eagle and the orca. The people we passed as we drove through the town smiled and waved, no doubt riding the wave of a tourism boon due to the success of the Twilight series. Clearly the town was embracing its fame. The businesses posted signs warning that vampires weren’t allowed in town. One such establishment advertised its property as the official treaty line between the fictional vampires and the Quileute werewolves. Although I thought it was amusing to witness all the Twilight hoopla, I got the feeling that this place deserved better. The Olympic peninsula is far too majestic for such nonsense. I was almost embarrassed. This was a place with a “Tsunami Evacuation Route.” First Beach is hardly playful. Side note: Unless one is already in one’s car when the tsunami hits, how does one actually drive away from a tsunami? It’s not a hurricane, is it?
Driving away from LaPush, we knew from reading the novels that we were only about fifteen minutes from Forks. Ten minutes out of LaPush the sky was once again clear and blue as we were welcomed into town. Forks was tiny, but it was clearly taking full advantage of its newly found fame. There were even more advertisements for Twilight t-shirts and Team Jacob hats. Strangely enough all of the souvenier possibilities seemed awkward. Clearly, Forks is experiencing growing pains and possibly an identity crisis. I wondered as we drove by what kind of merchandise the stores along the main street once sold. The newly established outlets dedicated to selling only Twilight gear seemed forced and anachronistic. I imagined that prior to the huge success of the series these establishments must have sold things like toilet paper and greeting cards, garden stones and rakes. Who was selling that stuff now? The answer was the largest store in town, a combination grocery store, hardware store, and clothing store known as Forks Outfitters and the employer of the fictional Bella Swan. We couldn’t resist stopping as it was advertised as having the largest selection of Twilight gifts. I mean, when in Rome…. Once inside, we were surprised to find that the largest supplier really didn’t have all that much. Alongside the “Love at First Bite” t-shirts and mugs were all the usual sundries found in a hardware store. Clearly the Forks Outfitters was prepared to survive the eventual decline in popularity of the Twilight series but until then they will sell the heck out of some Twilight water bottles.
At the checkout, I asked the clerk about the drive from Forks to Aberdeen, the proposed stopping point for the night. She told me that we should probably just head back to Port Angeles and go from there to Olympia because the rest of the 101 was just a bore. Against her advice, we decided not to backtrack but to take our chances with the “boring” route to Aberdeen. She couldn’t have been more wrong. What followed was by far the most interesting and at times breathtakingly beautiful stretch of highway thus far.
After twenty minutes, I was sure that this was going to be a bit dull and that the clerk was right. Just then we entered the Hoh National Rainforest and the coastal fog returned. The forest was thick with pine trees that stretched up into the mist, their tops disappearing. The lush, green ground was covered with wild ferns and moss. Suddenly, through a clearing, we could see the shoreline and the ocean. The fog once again prevented us from seeing farther than one-hundred feet from shore. Spires of rock jutted up from the beach and bleached logs, smoothed by wind and water, lay deposited wherever the ocean tossed them. The forest crept right up to the shore and the trees nearest the coast grew slanted against the wind. The hostility and aggression of the ocean and the wind here was more than intimidating. It was downright threatening, but its menacing beauty was beyond gorgeous. It was magical. These beaches were practically deserted. It brought to mind the desolation of a desert. The sand, although not blowing, looked wind-blown. It was practically sand blasted and save for one message written on the sand telling Helen that her friends had headed back to camp, there were no signs that anyone had ever walked upon that shore.
We passed over several rivers and saw where the river literally meets the sea. The river water drained into rivulets streaking through that unmarked sand. Each one was like an aerial view of New Orleans where the fingers of the Mississippi spread out until they touch the Gulf of Mexico. At one point, Brent pulled over for Megan and I to look at the beach from a cliff not too high above the shore. As we stood there in wonder, something large rustled the tall grass in which we were standing. I jumped to the side only to discover that it was a large lizard of some sort, no doubt as startled as I. No matter how benign my run-in with nature, I decided to take it as a warning and head on back to the safety of the motorhome. Surely there were far more dangerous beasts lurking in the forest behind me.
After passing through one last rainforest, the 101 made a left and we headed inland. We arrived in a very damp, gray, and depressing Aberdeen around 5:30 p.m. It was so gray that it could have been 10:00 p.m. We decided to skip the grilled kebabs I had planned for dinner opting instead for microwaved soup so we could press on to a less depressing locale. We were planning an attempt on Portland knowing full-well that we probably wouldn’t get all the way there. We made it to Castle Rock at the foot of Mt. St. Helens instead, just fifty miles from Portland.
This was one HELL of a day. If it were at all possible, I would have suggested that we stay. As it is, we have added the Olympic Peninsula to the list of places deserving of an extended visit. The town of Forks advertises itself as a place where, “You CAN live forever.” Maybe so. It is pretty close to the beach.
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