So we started our day of Northwest adventure in the grove of Tall Maples and the Hall of Moss- otherwise known affectionately to true Port Angelenos as "doin' the Hoh." This pristine area of wetlands and rainforest in coastal Olympic National Park is a really spectacular place but its magnitude is probably lost on a couple lucky little boys who grew up under other less ancient but still sky-touching trees nearby.They took a quick look and asked "how far is the beach?" in the whiniest tones hearable by human ears. They were even more ready for a change of scenery when they overheard the parking lot discussion du jour emanating from some trail hardy hippie kids about the bear eating the elk up the trail. I'd have thought they would want to head off in that direction not scamper for the car.
Its shameful, I admit, but Finn had never experienced the open ocean. Sure he's had his share of tidepools, waves, sand, and stones on the Strait of Juan de Fuca. We have not taken him to the outer coast, though. Today was the day. The magnitude of sea stacks and seemingly endless beach was not lost on the boys. Doubtless we will be headed back soon.
Finn's first experience with a real tide.
Mom and Dad pitch in with sandcastle construction and anemone identification.
Sea Stack Silliness
Finn spots a purple ochre starfish in a crevice. No that's not purple starfish jelly smeared on his face. It's grape jelly from his lunchtime sandwich.
"Is that a Pirate Cave or does a Sea Serpent live there? Race you to find out!"
A Cave Shower. Good thing, too... we were starting to smell like a yeti's toes steeped in manure tea.
By mid afternoon the tide was all the way out leaving some super cool nature to touch, feel, and admire: like sandy tidal ripples...
...and a colony of extremely deeply hued starfish clinging to a large rock. (Closeup on the left and as close as we could get on the right.) We told the boys there were so many there because it was a private rock forever away from poking fingers of children and tourists.
Then it was time to scamper back off down the beach to change out of soggy clothes and drive back around the Peninsula to our significantly more boring home to face the coming work week.
But not before stopping to scan the horizon for killer whales from what must have been the bow of some prehistoric pirate ship extruding from freshly exposed sand.
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