Long Northwest 2026

The next day we were up and at ‘em early. The host had left us eggs from her chickens, as well as feed to give them. Our airstream was behind the chicken coop, and there was a sweet little chicken run that extended all the way along the length of the yard. So the kids got dressed and then begged to go outside – I set them free while I cooked eggs, and toasted some English muffins. 

I had locked in a grocery store stop along the way the day before, and had managed to secure a jar of marionberry jam. If you have never been so lucky as to have marionberries – get thee to the PNW is all I have to say. The kids had never had any, so I needed to make sure they did! I am pretty sure they loved it, but maybe they will weigh in here. (We did love it!!)

While I cooked, they greeted the hens outside, fed them, and even saved me some feed so I could have a turn. Such thoughtful children. They then played hide and seek – which they have been enjoying more and more frequently since we moved out of our tiny duplex into a bigger home where they had more options. Obviously a new place with so many bushes, plants, and mystery would not be a place to pass up a good game. 

We packed up for the day, paid a short visit to the hogs, and hit the road. The goal was to run to the Pacific Coast side of the Olympic Mountains to see the Tree of Life, hit the beach, gaze at a tide pool, and then hike into the Hoh rainforest, all while making Twilight jokes as we neared and passed through the town of Forks. I was tickled to see that the town fully embraces their destiny and had a local youth theater production of Twilight happening this summer. 

I spent time drawing on the drive to the beach, we listened to tunes, and generally just gazed out the window at the never ending beauty, shouting “Foxgloves” excitedly at each other here and there, debating why foxes need gloves, and why they are called foxgloves. Some griping happened too, but mainly it was a lovely drive with lots of oooohs and ahhhs. One moment that I’d like to record for posterity is when we were discussing with Wylder how glaciers cause geological impact. He asked, “Why is Lake Crescent so deep?” after we had a guessing game to see who got close enough, and then looked up the answer (Spoiler it was Chris in terms of the metric system). We went over some of the reasons, and asked him what he thought the origin of the lake could be after we had described how a glacier had carved the valley. He asked what “origins” meant, and I gave some in context examples, and said “what would your origins be?” expecting him to say Chris and I, but he surprised us. “Stardust, my origins are stardust.”, just like we say in our nightly mantra from when he was little. Indeed my love, indeed.

We got to the campground that Tree of Life is located at, and got all ready to walk down to the beach. We took a stroll through the woods first, and came out to walk the ramp/stairs down the sandy cliff to where the beach trail was. We went immediately to the left, and we basically had to hold the kids back from just running into the water. The beach was expansive, it was low tide, and there were just lots of little bits to see as we walked. I really love all the driftwood logs, and how chaotic and natural the shoreline looks with all its weathered layers. We kept our eye out for the fabled Tree of Life, but it wasn’t until we turned around that we realized we needed to have gone immediately to the right – as it was at the end of the stairs. 

It was sagged a bit over the last few years – but is still a remarkable tree holding itself up by its roots into the two separate cliff faces. 

Of course – it would have been a dream to climb around on it, but we didn’t. We did, however, as we hung out nearby spot several dudes who didn’t seem to care about the social custom of protection, leave no trace, and preserving such a unique space for other people. 

I watched for a few minutes, and looked around me at a bunch of other people looking aghast too. I couldn’t figure out why no one was saying anything to them, or why they would be so disrespectful – so if you know me, you know what I did next!

“Oi,” I yelled, “that’s pretty disrespectful of this space. Why are you climbing on the tree? How will that preserve this for others and future generations?” No reply came of course, but they got down, and gave me a good stare down. I was surprised when several women came up to me to thank me for saying something. We started a conversation about respect and they brought up the reflection pool – it belongs to all of us. Although, I would argue that the basic aspect of nature belong to none of us, but the we bear the responsibility to act as stewards and nourishers of spaces like that. I have decided not to be embarrassed that I spoke up, or that I am writing it down. I encourage you to do that too, when the time fits. Maybe you will do it sweeter than me, but I am tired of being a sweet woman in those moments. 

Soon after we hiked back up, and decided to try out the nearby Ruby Beach for lunch and scrounged up the makings of a picnic. Ruby Beach had a lovely little path down to where a medium sized stream met the ocean, and there was a little driftwood bridge to get across. There were large and medium sized rocky spires to look for tidepool life, and while we ate, the first thing Wylder did was find a spot to dig.

We people watched for a while, and then made our way to the rocks to look at sea life before the tide came too far in. 

We found lots of anemones, and I climbed around solo over big boulders for a while. Then we rounded a corner and really looked close – sea stars, egg sacs of mysterious origins, chitons, limpets (there was a whole good natured argument over which was which between Tula and I, until I double checked and admitted to being totally and deeply wrong), as well as goose barnacles and mussels. We basically just spent an hour peering closely and shouting at each other to come look and “watch your butt a wave is coming”.

Tula: It’s a super fun game to go right next to a wave where it can’t get you, then you run away!

We grumped our way back up – (see Tula being a bit hangry and ready for a rest) and at the very top was a park ranger that changed the whole mood around – you see he had a lovely set of pelts! River otter vs Sea Otter – the  former being smaller and going in both fresh and saltwater, and the later having the densest fur of any mammal at 1 million hairs per square inch. The pelts even had noses and paws, and the kids and I spent a lot of time trading facts with the ranger – he asked where we were from and was surprised we knew what we did. I told him it’s our favorite biome, and suggested he listen to Allie Wards’ Ologies on Sea Otters, which I suggest you do too, if you are ready to know they are not as cute as they seem. 

Next on the Agenda – drive to the Hoh rainforest. We drove all the way there and stopped at the last “adventure store” on the way in, where I got a pair of binoculars (because I left the two we have at home on the floor next to the luggage instead of in the luggage on the last opening 😦 ) and Tula secured a magnet for her classroom fridge, and wylder begged for every stuffy in the store. 

We were greeted outside the store by a family of bears, but don’t worry, as you can see here they are very friendly. 

And then we watched a babysitter cow herd some young ones back to the main herd, mooo-yelling at each other the whole way. I watched, but also tried to make friends with the crows winging around by cawing at them and telling them to come be friends with me. They did not take me up on it. Frankly, I tried this everywhere to no avail. 

We gazed at some more foxglove and winged our way on. 

The Hall of Mosses in the Hoh Rainforest was miraculous, even in dry season. There are several beautiful streams that we decided we would become salamanders so we could live in them. And it just seemed like every turn had something more beautiful than the last. The wind in the trees stole my breath. I really can’t seem to put into words what that place made me feel, but it was magical.

I want to just exist there.

After we did the whole loop, we stopped on the way out for one close look at the Hoh river. We had a lot of conversation on the way in about what made a braided river like that so cool, and how it was stopped from washing out the road by huge concrete jack shaped pilings. The river does what she wants I said.

We plopped a few rocks in and then piled back into the car and realized dinner and a charge must be had – so we planned to stop in Forks at found a place to eat close enough that Chris could drop us, and he could walk from the charger.

I picked a place, and while we were a bit dissapointed in our food options – tired ladies are picky ladies – we managed, and made do. Papa picked us up, we put on some tunes to drown out the groans of tired children who now realized we had a long drive back, and lulled everyone into a pleasant ride of reading, math facts, quiet doodling, and good ol’ out the window staring.

When we returned to the airstream, we were greeted by the hosts giant dog, Emma, and got some good cuddles. We watched as deer, totally unbothered, cross the yard in front of us, went to hop into the pig pen!

The kids promptly went to sleep, and despite Chris and I trying to be awake and alone to hit the hot tub, we also fell asleep before Twilight turned to full night sky.

I can’t say that I have a favorite part, but I kept telling the children that the skies feel so different when they are full of far off or close up mountains, the earth feels deeper, like an echo through the stones – the way the open skies in the desert (especially New Mexico, feel sacred and full of dancers). Chris and I talked about how we both feel forest next to beach is an especially magical place – the wind, the woods, the shore, the earth just feel so different.

Chris weighs in to say the big difference is that here in central Texas the earth is like water burned by fire; the limestone was rock laid down by ocean eons ago, and since exposed, has been and is baked by the sun.
The rock up there is fire soaked by water, laid down by volcano and tectonic pressure, and soaked by the rains and kept moist by ocean spray and forest.
A dichotomy. I love his mind.