Literally. We are driving through Aberdeen, birthplace of Kurt Cobain. on the Olympic Peninsula in Washington. The town welcome sign reads Aberdeen: Come as you Are. I’m pumped. It’s always been a big ‘to do’, a trip to the rain forests of the Olympic Peninsula. Epic is a word that just about describes this place. I wonder if all the photos I’ve seen will have exaggerated its beauty.
I had decided on Kalaloch Campground on the west coast for our home base for the next four days. It was a long drive through crazy city traffic past Seattle and Tacoma and up the coast. The first time exposed to traffic in 5 weeks and it felt invasive and harrowing. When we pulled into the first come first serve campground, we breathed a collective sigh of relief. This was a campground like no other. Twisted shore pines shaded each spot, creating little shadowy pockets of privacy, but the view 20 feet away was non other than the grandiosity of the Pacific Ocean.
Oh my lord, the feeling of water meeting sky! I felt released. The mountains are awe-inspiring and majestic, but I have realized that particular landscape intimidates me, makes me feel hemmed in. It’s almost as if I experience a low level anxiety, maybe it has something to do with not being able to see the horizon, to see the golden orb of the sun make its way to the edge of sky. Shadows come early in mountain towns. To compound the feeling, to escape one must usually cross a mountain pass, treacherous and risky in the best of weather.
My first glimpse of the ocean completely changed my mental state. Our site was pretty freaking awesome. Tucked in a corner with pine needles as our carpet, it was roomy and strewn with gnarled old trees, punctuated by filtered rays of light. And then there was the sound. The shooshing of breaking waves, a memory of childhood summers. We could see the expanse of beach from the Cricket and we poured glasses of wine and walked to the beach. There was a group of people pointing and talking excitedly. Dozens of gray whales were playfully cresting and spouting right off shore! I stood there for a long time, marveling at this wholly magical welcome to the Olympic State Park.
We prepared a salmon dinner on the grill with fresh veggies, Israeli couscous and feta. As the sun waned, I anticipated my sleep, I could not wait wait to lie down tonight. The sound of the ocean is primal, the waves pounding the shore as the tide rolls in, a full moon, illuminating the trees forming architectural sculptures against the night sky.
I lay there fully embracing the sounds and was close to achieving a state of Nirvana when big headlights and a diesel engine pulled in and parked facing our trailer, lighting us up in an orange glow. I waited patiently, it happens. Late comers to camp. After some maneuvering, the engine dies, doors slam, the mammoth RV is lit up from within. I sighed. Back to my reverie. The wavy silence was broken by the loud sounds of a mega generator. Whoa. I have not had this issue yet. But this is a peaceful quiet campground, a favorite among tenters. I checked my watch: 9:58pm, surely one of my seasoned tenter neighbors will put a stop to this. RUMBLE. RRRRR.
Omg. I was pissed. He was breaking the rules. (yes, I assumed maleness) It was QUIET TIME. I put my headlamp on, stuffed my feet in my boots, and unlocked the door. “Where the hell are you going?” Mark. Good question. I never leave the cricket at night. NEVER. Now might be the time to tell you about my pee bottle. It’s been my #1 tool of comfort. When I get up in the middle of a pitch black night with all kinds of creatures engaging in their nocturnal parties, I do not need to be invited to the shindig, I stay in after 11. Pee Bottle, I love you. Don’t judge.
Anyway, disregarding all fears of nighttime wanderings, I marched in a huff down a little way to the bathrooms and read the bulletin board. There it was under Campground Rules & Etiquette: NO generators 10-6. HA! I marched back to our site, really huffing and puffing. I slowed down as I silently crept past the giant RV offender trying to peer in to see the rude culprits. Back in the Cricket, Mark is asking ‘where were you?’ In a bluster, I told him what happened and how unbelievably clueless this guy was. I was going over there, was he coming with? Hell no, he was too comfortable. Mark had battled Seattle traffic, this was my battle.
Foolishly, without giving a second thought to safety, I approached the behemoth. The door was at my neck level. Banging loudly, the door was opened by a young man in his 20’s, chomping on some chips. I was taken aback momentarily, I’d been expecting an old guy. knew I had to affect a different tone to this young nonplussed young man standing in front of me, crumbs on his chin. Now, I’m wearing my ridiculous body sleeping bag that makes me look like a giant colorful slug and my glaring headlamp. I say “Hey man” (I’m cool), are you planning on turning off your generator any time soon?”(even though you just turned it on you moron) He was, “Soon.” Oh brother. I didn’t like that noncommittal answer. “Ok, because its 10:00(10:13 to be precise) and I was really enjoying the sound of the ocean til your generator blotted out all natural sound. Yeah, ok. Thanks.”
I walked back to my site, floating on air. This is something I would not normally do and I did not even think twice about it. It happened so organically, a Pavlov’s Dog response. Generator noise-broken rule-fix. Not that I’m a huge rule follower but one thing I have learned in camping is that living in close proximity only works because people are unfailingly polite. We are all out here, braving the elements and other hassles to be one with nature. Abiding by the campground rules keeps the peace so none of us have to be the cop. Well, this young man needed to be educated! And I was the one to do it.
I wondered briefly if we would meet again in the light of day. I suddenly felt good that he probably wouldn’t be able to identify me due to the clever disguise of my get-up and blinding headlight.
Arriving back at camp, I lay down next to Mark and waited. A few minutes later, the generator powered down. Glorious silence was restored. It took a minute but soon, I began to be lulled by the ocean waves. I slept well listening to the hypnotic motion of the Pacific and feeling strangely capable and empowered.