Motorhome News from North America 10

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Motorhome News from North America 10 21st April - 1st May 2006

Farewell Stars and Stripes

We set out with Ralph, our intrepid guide, in bright sunshine, along the Ocean Shores peninsula at Grays Harbour, binoculars and scope at the ready, searching for snowy owls reported to have been seen the previous day on driftwood along the shoreline. As is often the case, we were unsuccessful, but we were rewarded with fabulous birding (56 species) at Nisqually National Wildlife Refuge a day or two later. It was good to be in the company of an enthusiast with local knowledge and there were many moments of great excitement: our first hooded merganser, a beautiful common yellow-throat, a huge flock of Brants geese and a spectacular horned grebe in mating plumage.

Winnie took a well deserved rest for a few days whilst we enjoyed the company of Jojo and Ralph at their home in Olympia. They spoiled us rotten. Their warm welcome and generous hospitality will long be remembered.

Bright morning skies foretold a fine day ahead, perfect for a visit to Mount Rainier, a lonely white knoll rising dramatically way in the distance to 14,111ft. The mountain holds the world snowfall record of 1122 inches gently dropped here in 1972, but, despite drifts up to 20ft deep beside the road at around 5,000ft, the snow was firm enough for us to take a rather precarious walk at the ‘Paradise’ resort before lunch.

Each day brings pastures new and each day another adventure. There was a time when what we used to know as ‘holidays’ offered us an open window to sample the delights of unexplored places for a few weeks each year, but our present motorhome travels could not be regarded as a holiday by any stretch of the imagination. Motorhoming at this level becomes a way of life and it resembles more that of a tortoise; tucked comfortably inside a warm shell, wandering somewhat aimlessly across the countryside with few cares other than to think about how the day might turn out. Holidays are those occasions where ‘let’s do it because we won’t come back and blow the expense’ rules, but this long-term life we have chosen demands budgets and some moderation lest it gets out of hand. Holidays are those times when, no sooner have you arrived than it’s nearly time to go home, but our story has no defined end; it is a journey, with a different destination each day, each with a beginning and an end: a bit akin to a long string of sausages.

Olympia, like its big brother, Seattle, sits on the Puget Sound, a tidal inlet of islands and waterways some 60 miles from the Pacific shores as the marbled murrelet flies and considerably more by boat. It’s surely the closest one could get to the great fjords of Norway. The capitol of Washington State, Olympia has an air of grace befitting its governing status, with broad airy streets and wonderful shops, a sparkling harbour bobbing with boats, green open spaces and smart wooden houses, gardens alive with red rhododendrons and newly mown verges lined with pale pink magnolia. At the southernmost tip of the Sound, it proudly displays its very own White House replica atop the hill, revelling in the wealth that government and a strong military presence brings to its doorstep. This would be a great place to set up home. Property is affordable and there is sufficient culture to smother the most demanding soul.

To get the best from our travels we planned our route to take us out from Olympia along the western shores of Puget Sound into the Olympic National Park, around the northern perimeter of the snowy Olympic Mountain chain from where we will catch the ferry out to Victoria on Vancouver Island. It’s the wrong side of the Sound for Seattle, but, with Winnie safely tucked up in a secure car park, we sneaked up on the city from the west, by ferry across from Bainbridge Island. It was warm. We went sleeveless in Seattle, enjoying temperatures in the mid 60’s, treading the pavements to fully savour the flavour of this city of fame.

Seattle. To the west, the waters of Puget Sound and the Olympic Mountains, 8,000ft of icy-white peaks. To the east, Lake Washington and the snow covered Northern Cascades. And to the south, looking out over the whole of Washington State, the guardian angel of Mount Rainier, bright in the sun on a rare cloudless day; but, more usually, shrouded in mist and lost in the fog of Seattle’s notorious rain. We travelled to Seattle with commuters riding the ferry to work, their laptops humming to the tune of the ship’s free Wi-fi service.

Banks and insurance companies have come to town with a vengeance, surpassing the city’s signature 500ft Space Needle Tower in a shimmering, neck straining, glass skyline, whilst the Subway and Monorail suffer in decline through lack of investment. A truly vibrant waterfront is lost forever to the constant roar of tiered traffic lanes, rushing saw-like on concrete pillars, past fishing warehouses, bars, restaurants and markets. There is little by way of parks and open spaces, but the streets are wide and the city is rich in atmosphere and smart shops.
Markets are always a magnet for us. They reflect much of the nature and character of a city, town or village. Seattle’s Pike Street Market is special indeed, jammed to the gunwales with bookshops, galleries, gift and craft shops. It swings to the sound of lively buskers, vibrates with the blaze of colourful tulips, the call of the fishmongers and fruit and vegetable displays to blast the taste buds.
Microsoft is based just outside the city in Redmond, and it’s reported that a 12 acre site in the town centre has recently been purchased for the proposed building of a new headquarters. Seattle is also known as the coffee capital of the world: the first Starbucks opened right here and many others have followed in their footsteps over the years. Here, as in most other US cities we have visited, your right hand is for the takeaway coffee cup, a must it seems, on the way to work. Your left hand is for the cell-phone of course.

Sure, we liked Seattle. It’s an unbusy city; perhaps more like ‘sleepy in Seattle’, were it not for the 9 people killed and ten injured by gunfire in the past month. A young lady on the campsite spoke to us about guns. “I’m in favour of guns,” she told us. “You must be able to protect yourself from mugging, stabbing and rape.” Meanwhile they’re dying to find the answers to the gun problem.

Out to the west, Olympia National Park calls, its high mountains stretching 90 miles to the coast, encircled by US Highway101 at the top of its coastal track all the way from California. This vast wilderness of forest and snow covered peaks looks north to Canada across the Strait of Juan de Fuca and west from rocky shores, out across the windblown Pacific. We’ll cross from Port Angeles to Vancouver Island before the end of April, but first there are coastal inlets and rain forests to explore.

Our time on the Olympic peninsular took us along the northwest coast from Port Townsend with its delightful Victorian houses out to the busy fishing village of the Makah Indian Reservation at Neah Bay on the north-western tip, before dropping down to the Ho Rainforest, 18 miles inland. We walked the lush trails from our camping pitch by the river, through enigmatic tunnels of green touched with mellow sunlight, from the tops of the tallest sitka spruce, the Douglas fir and western hemlock, to lush beards of emerald clubmoss drooling on sagging maples to the forest floor, beside crystal streams deep in ferns, mosses, wood sorrel, lichen, pale pink trilliums, snow-white oxalis and salmonberry brush. We found our way into another world, of fairy tales, pages from a story-book, a secret world clothed in green. There’s a tingle in the fingers and a shiver in the spine in this green, green dreamland where ghosts and ghoulies roam, and witches cast their spells over steaming cauldrons. We slept with the light on that night.

Enjoyment comes in many colours as we journey. Riding the snaking coastal road, our day began with a bald eagle landing in the tree above our heads. By lunch we had watched a busy otter fishing a few yards offshore, glorious harlequin ducks feeding in the kelp, marbled murrelets bobbing the waves and squawking gulls applauding a pair of seals feverishly splashing amongst a shoal of steelheads in the deep pools at the estuary entrance of the Quilayute River. We’ve not enjoyed ourselves so much since yesterday!

There have been times when driving the coast road has proved a wee bit tricky. It took us a while to establish the purpose of road-signs bearing the words ‘Sunken Grade’, seen in California and Oregon. Here in Washington these are replaced with ‘Slides and Washouts’. What they usually mean is that the road has been washed away and there’s every chance you might just find yourself over the edge of a cliff. (See picture!)

Some things in life must be saved till last. I’m thinking of the last slice of peach from the bowl of peaches and cream; the last fork of fresh salmon on the plate - and the last dance of course. For us, the tasty portion of the Olympic peninsula was the mountains. They are hidden from much of Highway101 by forested hills rising high above the road and some of the best views are from as far away as Seattle and Olympia. There are some roads into the mountains open as early as April each year, cleared of snow for the few tourists venturing this far west and we chose the one to Hurricane Ridge, a short drive from the ferry at Port Angeles. Washington has delivered beautiful weather since our arrival nearly two weeks ago, and the mountains shone like icing sugar spires in the deep blue afternoon skies under the glare of as fine a spring sun as the world has to offer. Magnificent would be an understatement. A special parting gift from a very special State. Don’t rush. Washington will wait for you.

Canada has some strict rules of entry. You shouldn’t expect to get in if you have a drink-driving conviction on your driving license. Potatoes and apples are prohibited along with firewood. Unable to resist a ‘special offer’ we had bought some firewood from a friendly warden a while ago, but we never got around to doing the ‘Ging-gang, goolie, goolie, goolie, goolie, watcha, ging-gang goo,’ bit and decided to celebrate before leaving the USA and avoid the risk of upsetting the Canadian customs officers! It’s a long time since my Boy-Scout days (you can say that again) and the sweet smell of wood-smoke rising in spirals from the campfire, hanging momentarily high above in the dark fronds of the majestic cedars, brought back some fond though distant memories.

And so, we set sail for Canada; by ferry to Victoria, the capital of British Columbia, on Vancouver Island. Janice set foot on Vancouver Island back in 1986 though there is no plaque to mark the event. George Vancouver came here in 1792 as Captain of the Discovery and wrestled it away from the Spanish by his charm and diplomacy and his name appears everywhere. Like Nelson, he was a Norfolk man, hailing from Kings Lynn.

The British heritage remains in Vancouver Island. Horse chestnut, beech and laburnum trees surround the harbour where the Parliament Building heralds the entrance amidst sumptuous flower borders, broad grassy spaces, elegant Victorian street lamps - and the red double-decker bus, lives on, the Union Jack flies alongside the maple leaf - and afternoon tea is served each afternoon at the Empress Hotel. Indeed, hotels dominate this lovely city, host to boatloads of visiting tourists, Chinese and Japanese in huge numbers and awestruck Americans, marvelling at the vast stone monument to Queen Victoria, the Canadian Pacific Railway and Englishness at its best. We’re at home here; strolling amongst the lawns and flower borders of Beacon Hill Park we could be in any corner of London. Daffodils, tulips and rhododendrons flower in harmony, herons nest in the trees, mallard paddle the ponds and - it would hardly be out of place to see nannies in black dresses pushing their prams as they might have done on any sunny spring afternoon in 1900.
What better, then, than to visit the renowned Butchart Gardens, a cacophony of spring and summer colour, magnificent flower borders, azaleas and rhododendrons, pools and streams, maples and acers! Built in a disused limestone quarry, the gardens are a mixture of the Eden Project and Helligan - a must on any visitor’s list, gardener or not. Enough, just to stand and gaze - and dream of England.

As Island lovers, we expect a lot from Vancouver Island, but the coming week will tell. Given fine weather there should be some good walking. Excuse us while we get our boots on.


David and Janice. The grey-haired-nomads.


Notes as we leave The USA:
Our last fill of petrol was in the wilds of the Olympic National Park, where we expected to pay a bit over the odds. Having shopped around we settled for $3.15 per US gallon at a Port Angeles gas station. We’re told that prices are continuing to rise throughout the US and that is surely true. When we arrived in Arizona in January, we were paying $2.25! We’re wondering if the same thing is happening in the UK?

And time for a few statistics.
37 days in Arizona - 3,195miles travelled, averaging 86miles per day.
38 days in California - 2,384miles travelled, averaging 75miles per day.
15 days in Oregon - 1,294miles travelled, averaging 86 miles per day.
12 days in Washington - 827miles travelled, averaging 69 miles per day.

76 campsites in 102 days of travelling in Winnie.
23 National Parks visited and 45 State Parks

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Photos

Nisqually National Wildlife Refuge
A good day's birding here

Nisqually
What's Bill Oddie doing here? (It's actually the equally famous, Ralph)

Mt Rainier
In the deep stuff with Jojo and Ralphe

Seattle
Skyline from the Bainbridge Ferry

Seattle
Pike Street Market

Seattle
The First Starbucks

Victoria
Parliament building and a rather tall statue of Queen Victoria

Butchart Gardens - Victoria
Lay back and dream of England

It's either a Slide or a Washout
Be careful where you drive!