An Epic Washington Adventure
In the beginning of 2021, an old friend and I set out on a search for adventure in the Pacific NorthWest.
I left my home in Pennsylvania in early January and after a brief stop in Idaho, I arrived at Sierra’s house outside of Portland, OR. I had no plan or set date of departure, just a feeling that I had something to learn. I spent my time in Oregan biking, skiing, learning to roller skate and going on lots of walkies with Sierra’s dog, Sage. After a few days of plotting, Sierra and I decided to check out the hot springs in Olympic Nation Park and a plan unfolded from there.
Day 1
After packing the essentials (Juanita chips and dinosaur oatmeal) we set out on our first stop, a Portland wig store. Sierra picked out a chic white bob and I opted for a dramatic blue, curly mess. These wigs, some biodegradable glitter and Cardi B set the tone for the rest of the trip. Lunch was a whole bag of Juanita’s (seriously, best chips ever!) and the afternoon was spent walking along Kalaloch Beach in Olympic National Park. The large driftwood, smooth stones and lack of people were my favorite parts of the day. Thanks to my Washington Gazetteer, we found free dispersed campsites along the Hoh River, only a few miles from the beach. It was Pad Thai for dinner (pre cooked at home that morning) and skinny dipping under a full moon for dessert.
Pad Thai (random veggies, tofu and noodles) recipe…
Preheat the oven to ~350
Press tofu (google it if you don’t know), cube (into whatever size you want) and season with light sesame oil, garlic powder and whatever other spices (I like paprika and cumin). Toss them on a baking sheet and into the oven for ~40 minutes (or however long it takes to cook the rest of this shit)
Start boiling water for your noodles (I use spaghetti because it’s usually the cheapest, but there are no rules)
Start cutting veggies… onion, carrots, broccoli, peppers, mushrooms, edamame, water chestnuts. Literally whatever you want. Saute with your favorite oil, a splash of soy sauce and a lot of fresh garlic.
Once done, drain your noodles and run them under cold water so they don't continue to cook.
You should probably check on the tofu at this point. Flip 'em & crank up the heat to 450 if you like crispy.
Once your veggies are tender (I determine this by constantly tasting as I cook), start adding sauce. Equal parts sodium (soy sauce, miso or bouillon), acid (rice or other vinegar, lime or other juice, wine could also work), heat (any kind of hot sauce), savory (sesame oil, spices like ginger, turmeric, paprika, cumin, curry), and sweet (honey, agave, maple syrup). Make sure you add the sweetener last, as sugar condenses sauce when warm. Adjust sauce to taste. Remember you can always add more, but you can’t remove it. Be creative.
Turn off heat, add noodles, check tofu and add it to the meal. If the tofu is not crispy enough for your liking, crank the heat up to broil and wait two minutes.
Garnish with fresh spinach, peanuts, pineapple chunks, pickled onions, fresh cilantro and a squirt of lime. Or don’t if you’re feeling lazy, it will still taste bomb.
Thinking that we had an easy day ahead of us, Sierra and I slept in, enjoyed our coffee amidst the giant ferns, and made dank breakfast sammies next to the pale blue Hoh river. Pro breakfast sammie tips: a camping toaster is worth it, avocados pack better than you think & extra taco bell packets are hot sauce on the go. We packed up camp and headed to Sol Duc hot springs. Thanks to prior planning, we knew that Sol Duc hot springs were closed, but we planned on taking the flat, six mile trail from there to the Olympic hot springs. 14 miles from the trailhead, we came to a closed gate. Thank goodness for the gazetteer, because we had no service. We looked at the map and quickly decided to check out the alternative trailhead on the other side of the mountain, an hour drive away. Due to a washout on the road leading to the Elwha/ whiskey bend trailhead, we parked the car 10 miles and a couple thousand feet in elevation below the Olympic hot springs. It was later in the day than we planned and further than we expected. Honestly, we sat in the car for a few minutes and contemplated bailing all together. BUT, we had come this far. Fuck it! We got ready with our party shirts, glitter and wigs, then two girls and a small pup set off on an adventure. (It’s important to note that it was 55 degrees and sunny when we left).
We checked the trail map before departing and casually noticed the “beware of cougars” sign. From the parking lot, a short trail takes you around the washout and back onto the now inaccessible road. The eight mile hike straight up the mountain was no joke, but we kept an incredible pace. By the time we made it to the two mile trail leading into the hot springs, we had less than an hour left of daylight left and had passed maybe 100 “beware of cougars” signs. Looking closer, I noticed “cougar sightings are common. Keep small children close.” Small children?? I looked at Sage, the potential cougar snack wandering around in a down vest. Fuck.
In the last two miles we encountered snow, multiple creek crossings (some deep) and tons of down trees. I have no idea how we made it to our campsite and set up the tent before dark, but we did. Once in the tent, we started unpacking sleeping bags, pulling out snacks and cracking open our “we made it!” drinks (wine for me, beer for Sierra). That’s when it started to snow. For the second time in less than a month I found myself voluntarily camping in a blizzard (WTF is wrong with me?!?). We forgoed dinner (too much effort) and laid in our sleeping bags before stripping down and sprinting to the closest hot spring.
I relaxed into the hot water, catching snowflakes with my tongue and marveled at the magic of it all. Here I was, in this spectacular place, with no other people around (because no other people were crazy enough to camp in a snowstorm). I didn’t know how much snow would possibly accumulate, or if the precipitation would cause the creeks to become impassable by morning, or if there was a cougar stalking us (more specifically, Sage), but it didn’t matter. In that moment, everything was perfect. A scene from the documentary, Meru, popped into my head where Renan Ozturk asks Conrad Anker why they put themselves through the hell of winter camping (they’re in a bivy on the side of a cliff, but the point still applies) and Conrad responds, “The view, man.” There is a certain amount of delight and understanding that comes from enduring a sufferfest. Leaning into discomfort requires a strength that some people do not wish to develop. Some people avoid pain and uncertainty. Some people would rather assume the worst than reep the possible benefits that come from daring greatly. Some people don’t embrace uncomfortable situations. I am not some people. That’s what I thought about at midnight, in a hot spring, in a snowstorm, somewhere in the Olympic Mountains. The night was beautiful and the trip was worth it.
I made my way back to the tent, crawled in my -25 degree sleeping bag and woke up every 20 minutes, acutely aware of tiny puppy snores that sound similar to a cougar growl, until the morning.
Note: I will never never go camping in the winter without down boots and I will never go to a hot spring without crocs. These two items made the trip.
Day 3
To my delight, we were not snowed in, the creeks were not excessively high and I saw no kitty tracks in the snow. We spent the entire morning running naked between the five hot springs located a couple hundred feet from our tent. It was a 10/10 morning. Everything was pretty wet thanks to the snow, so we skipped breakfast, packed up and started hiking. Shout out to Sierra for carrying the wet tent and a chilly Sage, that extra weight made everything a little harder. Once we got back to the road it was 8 miles downhill, on pavement, with wet shoes (yikes, bisters!). We finished off the wine, played Lizzo from my phone and discussed how utterly badass we felt for conquering the shitshow that had been the last 24 hours. Back at the car, we changed clothes, inhaled donuts and set the GPS for Leavenworth, where Sierra’s dad would be waiting for us with pasta and champagne.
Day 4
Maybe it was the lack of food fueling our bodies, vertical pavement or long car ride after an intense hike, but DAMN we were sore the next day. Day 4 was spent lounging around a cozy fireplace, only moving to replenish snacks in between multiple romantic comedies. Towards the end of the day we wandered into town for dinner supplies and a mandatory stop at the Cider House for lavender honey cider.
Day 5
After breakfast we headed back to Oregon to meet some friends for tacos and game night. On the drive back, Sierra and I had the most eye opening conversation. I’m not sure what sparked the discussion, but I began recalling all the times my “gut feeling” had been correct. A partner lied. A boss deceived. A stranger took advantage. There was a quiet, consistent voice in the back of my head warning me of nefarious intentions and I usually told it to shut up. “What does the voice look like?” It was an odd question, one I had never put thought into. It was a voice, it didn’t look like anything. But I suppose if I shined a light on the dark depths where the voice came from I would find a small girl with poofy hair, sitting in a corning with her arms wrapped around her skinny legs. She looked defeated and tired of being yelled at. I want to give her a hug and tell her it was okay, I want to feed her and love her. “Holy shit, the little girl is me! Did I just find my inner child?” The moments that followed this realization shook me to my core. Maybe this voice hadn’t always been so quiet, maybe it used to be loud but was muted from years of neglect. That night, I imagined hugging the little girl. I told her I was sorry for ignoring her. I told her she was loved.
This trip to Washington would be the last of my adventures in the PNW in the winter of 2021. I traveled with the intention of living outside of my comfort zone and learning something about myself. I had accomplished both. The next day I packed up my car and left with an Irish goodbye, arriving in West Virginia 55 hours later.
To my adventure partner Sierra,
To my other adventure partner Sage,
You put up with shenanigans like a champ. Also, I’m really glad you did not become a cougar amuse bouche.
I hope this blog inspires you to get outside, get uncomfortable and get familiar with your inner child. Show yourself some love today and everyday.
Lots of love,
The Wild Child Yogi
Comments
Post a Comment