040818.1044 Kalaloch Lodge, Olympic Peninsula, WA

Got a little bit of a headache going, woke up with that. Otherwise my campsite last night was beautiful – In a rainforest, beside a river, in a nearly deserted national forest campground 13 miles down a gravel road from the highway.

Spent most of the day yesterday just driving. Interesting scenery, but nothing compelling enough to stop me for long. In the little town of Westport I got to hear the daily announcement of winning fish – 150 lb halibut, for example must have been fun to haul in. Oysters didn’t sound appetising to me as I passed through Raymond – I’m also feeling a little queasy at the moment; could have to do with hardly eating yesterday other than potato chips and orange juice and – yes, it was what looked good out of the food cabinet last night – Spam. I don’t think Spam ever goes bad, but that could explain headache and upset stomach. And a day on the road, otherwise, isn’t especially great for the digestive system, tho usually I’m fine. Or maybe it’s the West Nile virus. As far as I can tell, the vitamin B is keeping the mosquitoes, which usually make a feast of me. Glad I got the window screens in the van, though, as I can open up fairly well but keep the bugs out; yesterday evening as I took a walk an especially persistant bee or yellow jacket or some other nasty took a liking to me and hassled me for about half a mile as I strolled through the otherwise peaceful rainforest.

Grapefruit, english muffin, bacon, coffee. And feeling about 90% better. I slept very well last night, actually, from just before dark, to just after sunrise. The beach in front of me is literally covered with driftwood, should make for a good after breakfast constitutional. And I’m trying to figure out the people at the next table, who appear to be speaking Russian or Ukranian (not sure if I’d know the difference but it doesn’t sound quite strictly Pa-russki) but the guy speaks English like a gringo and apparently the kids understand english but prefer to speak native. And had a little discussion with the surrounding guests about the benefits of stealing internet while travelling.

Aside from walking on the beach, I plan to take it easy the next couple of days, going up to the hot springs, and otherwise not spending all day driving. The latest buy-it bug – I seem to get these urges to buy stuff which either I resist and they eventually go away, or I go ahead and give in to and whether I like the thing or not, regret having less money and more stuff – is a cheapo weather station – especially temperature and wind speed – for the playa. I’m thinking a boat store will have one but it will be outrageously overpriced, or Radio Shack will have a piece of junk one. So maybe I’ll resist this time, but it is entertaining to surf random stores “on a mission” and get a break from the road. Turns out it’s italian – which I seem to have quite a hard time recognising – from the North rather than Emily’s Sicilian.

Yep, another walk would be good. There are lots of bicyclists up here – in fact they’ve been along the road the whole way, but more populous up here. Something I admire, but don’t quite aspire to – mainly, damn me, because of having to drag my stuff along with me. Maybe if I could find a trip where they pack your gear and you sleep in a motorhome or something – riding all day long then sleeping in a bag on a mat on the cold wet ground doesn’t sound great to me. Having meals prepared would be a good thing, as well – since I don’t seem to be that good at it if left to my own devices. I’m thinking I’m about 95% better now – it’s like a computer game where you rest up till your “health” is restored.

This would have been a somewhat different trip, if I’d taken the Pinzgauer, I think. To begin with, a day like yesterday where I spent the whole day in the car, would have been fewer miles and more tiring. About the same comfort level in the bed, but a lot messier and harder to get stuff arranged. And lots of yahoos to talk to – could be good sometimes, I guess, but I’m just as happy to be left alone. Then there’s the prospect of having spent hours trying to dig myself out, having gotten stuck in the sand in Long Beach, perhaps.

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