It was midnight when I turned the car onto the freeway. It was the old mans idea to leave at this unreasonable hour. His attempt at beating the labor day traffic and I suspect a way to utalize my late night schedual to his advantage. The engine of the subaru purred along entrancingly as the old man snored wheezily from the passenger seat. I kicked myself for not bringing cd's on this trip. About 4am the old man woke and decided he was hungry. We pulled off the freeway in search of a dennys. The search came up fruitless but the oldman knew of a nearby casino and we headed for the bright lights and infinately restless atmosphere of a casino. At 4 am even the casino is mostly closed down. The slot machienes are never ending, fleecing the foolish and taking in revenue for the next big casino building project. A lone resteraunt advertizing New York style deli food is open to satiate the appetites of the elderly and undaunted. The old man was in his element happily digging into eggs and hashbrowns almost tapping along to the "music" of the slot machienes. I was quietly stirring my denver omlette concentrating on not allowing the thousands of snarky remarks in my head to spill out my mouth. It was early in the trip and I couldent afford to piss off the old man just yet.

After breakfast the old man took over driving and I attempted to sleep, waking often as the old man swerved and slammed on the breaks whenever another car came within 200 feet of him. I woke up to the seattle ferry attendant knocking on the window. apparently the old man had navigated through seattle and made it to the ferry. During the half hour wait for the ferry he had drifted off to sleep and now a line of angry commuters was waiting for us to move our car so they could go to work. We borded the ferry and I went in search of coffee, leaving the old man to fend for himself. Finding no coffee at 6am on the ferry I walked to the front of the boat and snapped a photo with my cell phone.

I spent the entire ferry ride at the front of the ferry staring into the wind like some norweigen fishing captain. The romance between me and the sea is a physical affair.

We left the ferry on Bainbridge Island and drove to Port Angeles where we had to check into the ranger station and pick up a state mandated bear container. The bear container is a black plastic barrel about the size of a heinekin minikeg which is supposed to keep your food and trash away from the bears. Sevral problems I encountered with the bear can. A. it's size or lack therof, remember this is supposed to house all your food, and trash and toothpaste, deodorant, sunscreen and anything else smelly you may have. There are no compartments so food and trash and toiletries are all mixed. Yeah! Fucking gross! second is the fact that the old man and I had packed seventy five pounds of crap into our packs not including this bear can. And the assholes who designed this thing had neglected to give it any way whatsoever to attach to a backpack. This wouldent have been a problem except that our campground was a three mile hike from the parking lot to the shore. The Old man had packed enough crap to sustain a squad of infantrymen for a week of jungle warfare so the task of hauling the bear can fell to me. I unpacked my pack and repacked everything into the bear can and added it to my pack splitting a few stiches but nothing major. We then continued from port angeles to the northern tip of Ozette Lake. There we entered the Olimpic rainforest park and parked our car. I was glad I had slept a little in the car as I soon realized the folly of overpacking my pack. As I slung the overstuffed monstrosity onto my back I felt my spine contract and a couple of vertebrae fused. Then I took a step I felt my left hand go numb and prayed that it was a heart attack so I didn't have to hike three miles with this shit on my back. The Old man needed help getting his pack on but once it was on he set out at a lesiurly pace seemingly undaunted by the baby pachyderm attached to his back. I wasn't gonna let an old man beat me even if he was a mariene once and I soon took the lead. I hiked as quickly as possible like I was walking on hot coals. The trail snaked through the Jungle like the Nang river from apocalypse now. I summoned all the grit and determination I had and tromped through that jungle like a crazy person. I had a trick I used to take small breaks. I'd get so far ahead of the old man that he couldent see me then I'd stop and take off my pack and pretend that I was waiting for him to catch up when I was actually resting my spine and trying to get feeling back in my hand. After about an hour and fifteen minuites we finally made it to the beach and dumped our gear in the nearest campground we could find. Heres a pic I took shortly after we hit the beach.

So the first day was lovely, about 68 degrees, a light breeze blowing in off the water, the smell of low tide wafting through the air reminding me of my ex wife, but I digress. We caught our breth and having heard of fresh water streams near the campground we went in search of them. The so called fresh water turned out to be a clearish brownish yellow color somwhat reminicent of urine, but it smelled ok and tasted alright so we gathered some to filter and use for cooking. Because some assholes had tried to set the entire store of beach driftwood on fire in a single massive bonfire the previous year fires were no longer permitted on the beach unless confined to camp stoves. This dampened our dinner plans but the old man had brought a couple of MRE's and we decided to eat military style that night. I had chicken and salsa with fried rice that under normal circumstances woulda been pretty nasty but I was hungry enough at this point to have caught and eaten a seagull so it wasn't bad even though it did taste like it had been cooked by the government. After dinner I lit up a fat cigar and smoked while I watched the sun set over the sea. The old man took a walk on the beach and I found him some fifty minuites later leaned up against a rock sleeping. I crept close and listened to his wheezy breathing to make sure he hadn't died. I then proceeded to kick over rocks and watch the little crabs scramble for cover.

The Night was Long, even though I was exausted the ground was hard the tent was small and around midnight the rain started I finally got to sleep around 2am and slept pretty well untill about 8am. I woke to the old man coughing, I'm not sure but I suspect he was trying to wake me up. He had been up for hours and had found another fresh water stream he wanted me to get water from. I hadn't barely opened my eyes and crawled out of my tent when He handed me two canteens and sent me for water. I trudged down the soggy trail in the rain swearing that the next time I was not going to bring that old bastard. I found the stream and filled up the jugs with more brown water then went looking for the outhouse. I found it disturbingly close to the stream and consisting of three four foot walls and a steel bucket with a toilet seat on it. The camps areound me were teeming with girlscouts who had also decided to go camping at the beach in the rain. I decided that discression was the better part of bodily function and hiked off into the woods untill I found a hidden pile of driftwood logs that I skillfully turned into a toilet. Does a bear shit in the woods? Sure, and why should I be any better. When I returned to the camp the old man handed me a can of sterno and a folding camp stove and designated me camp cook. I soon found that a can of sterno will not boil water at sea level. But I did get it hot enough to make ramen noodles with vienna sausage and some leftover instant cappicino from the MRE pack. After eating the old man instantly perked up. We decided after checking the weather report on The old man's weather radio that the rain was there to stay and that we would head to seattle ahead of schedual. The old man decided that we would make the hike out in two trips. first with all the cloths and odds and ends then with the tents sleeping bags and food. This turned a three mile hike into a nine mile hike but at least the packs would be lighter. The first trip was fine cloths and cooking untensils not weighing much. The hike back was enjoyable even in the rain. The empty back swaying lightly behind me. The last three miles was a killer. It seems that all the weight was in the tent and the now semi-waterlogged sleeping bags not to mention that damned bear can. But we made it out and managed to find a nice hotel in Port Angeles. A hotel bed and a shower never felt so good.

I'll leave it here for now and pick up chapter two tomorrow.