Sign posted at trailheadI’ve discovered an effective strategy for overcoming my fear of bears.
Settle in for a week of hiking--in cougar country—complete with details of how to avoid, or, if faced with an encounter, stare one down and escape with your life, posted plainly at every trailhead.
A repeated reminder throughout the Park, for those who might have it slip their mind.
Chances are, I’d never encounter one.
But with 300 cougars within the national park boundaries, I read each instruction sheet and studied it well, then picked up my stick and stepped into their world.
Every scrubby cluster became a point from which one could suddenly leap.
Every dark lump, a crouching form.
Hiking no longer was a mindless trek, but an exercise, carefully plotted and executed.
We must keep an eye on the sun--these deep woods lose light quickly.
Stumbling along a dusky trail would be definitely out of the question.
Having just stepped off a plane from Ohio days earlier, made this new place all the more disconcerting. As if suddenly waking from sleep to find the room rearranged, nothing looked the least bit familiar.
Within the deep, dark woods of Olympic, mostly silence. An expansive, lavishly carpeted space with cathedral ceilings opening to spots of bright blue above.
Arion sp. (?)
Snail-eating Beetles eating a worm
Scaphinotus angusticollis olympiae
of Pacific coastal forests
Along the paths we walked, huge slugs.
And their predators, flightless Snail-Eating ground beetles scurrying to and fro, hoping to catch one, or a snail or other slimy, spineless creature that lives in the dark of these woods.
Douglas squirrel, Tamiasciurus douglasii
of Pacific coastal states
eating Sitka Spruce cone
Douglas squirrels, small and noisy, munching cones of odd shapes and sizes.
The evergreens, of course, were huge--and enough like similar species to hazard a guess. But, there were maples--with leaves the size of dinner plates.
Devils Club, Oplopanax horridus
And a low, lanky, creeping shrub, its ferocious spines hiding coyly behind bunches of lovely red berries—and even larger leaves.
Devil’s Club—nothing a hiker wishes to get into a tangle with.
hot springs of Sol Duc ValleySulfur hot springs were covered in a morning’s mist. Their aroma less than inviting—yet, after a day’s journeying, a warm welcome home. Nature’s hot tub, clean and clear. A constant renewal from below the earth’s surface.
coast between Clallum Bay and Sekiu
wild blackberries
One afternoon, a barrier of hefty blackberry shoots teased us from the road’s edge with large and luscious ripe fruit as we stopped to watch the tide slip from dark-covered rocks at the coast. We stole all we could of the bright, dark berries, and filled a hat to the brim—a snack to carry us through.
The table for lunch, reminding us again of this wonderful wildness we had landed in.
Rock Crab
Wilderness Beach Trail connecting Alava and Sand Point
Second Beach
Olympic Coast National Marine Sanctuary, Washington
A place where the sand on the beach bears only your footsteps.
And those that follow, are of another world.
