TURAS GIRLS

Stef and I have had our fair share of adventures together. We initially bonded because of our shared admiration for the outdoors and began to hike, walk, and run together often. She hadn’t done a ton of camping but had a great interest in it and I hadn’t ever backpacked but wanted to give it a try. So off we went.

The northwest coast of Washington is known to be beautiful and has some great areas to try short backpacking trips. We decided the Cape Alava Loop out on the Olympic Peninsula would be a good starting point. We lived in Tacoma, Washington at the time so it wasn’t too far away. It’s 3 miles in to a camping spot, 3 miles along the beach (at low tide) to the next camping spot, and 3 miles back to your starting point. Sounds easy enough.

One weekend we packed up our backpacks with what we thought we needed. Which included a bundle of firewood (because if you have ever tried to camp in Washington, then you know you need dry wood with you cause nothing is dry in the forest there), a 6 pack of beer, and a required bear canister with our food stuffed in it. Our packs were HEAVY. Like 75 lbs each heavy.

We drove 4 hours to the coast. Stopping at the ranger station to check our route and get some maps. We were warned that the tide might be up a bit because the South Pacific was under a tsunami warning. Six inches up is what they said.

We parked, pulled on our packs, and began the 3 miles in that afternoon. It was cloudy and drizzling, but pretty typical to the Pacific Northwest. About 2 miles in we ran across a ranger who stopped us and warned us that the tide was up by about 6 feet and there was a tsunami warning for the area. That was a bit different than 6 inches so we waffled for a moment on whether to go or not but decided to chance it.

We made it out to the cape and passed by several empty campsites. All campsites were pretty close to the water so we ventured on but ended up coming back as nothing else was suitable. We picked a site, helped each other get our heavy packs off our backs, set up camp, and started a fire with our nice, dry wood.

After realizing how sore our bodies were from the weight of our packs, we were quite happy we included our 6 pack of beer in our packs. We enjoyed each and every one of those beers that night as we sat around the fire. At one point we had a visitor that came a little too close to camp for comfort. That raccoon would not be the only camp mate that night as sometime in the middle of the night we heard our bear canister fall and start to be rolled about. We peeked outside to find a group of raccoons attempting to open our canister by rolling and kicking it around.

We also heard the waves crashing outside all night long and much too close to our tent. In the morning we saw the effects of those waves as huge logs were strewn about the beach that was now getting smaller and smaller.

If you have never had to live by the tides, it doesn’t make much sense why you would have to walk on the beach at low tide to get across the next stretch of our hike. We learned very quickly that we were getting too late of a start for low tide and there is no beach to walk on at high tide. We ended up alternating between bushwhacking our way through the forest, (which is the most dense, impassable forest you can imagine) and trying to walk and, subsequently, falling on wet, slimy logs . With heavy packs on our backs, the amusement of this situation faded into frustration.

It took us hours to go 3 miles and by the time we got to the next camping area, we were over it. We were wet, cold, bruised, and sore. This dictated our decision to walk the 3 miles back to our car and drive home that night.

We tried backpacking a couple more times in the Pacific Northwest. Once to 5 mile camp which ended up being more like 7 miles in and after setting up our tent only to have it start leaking immediately, we packed up and walked 7 miles back out. We ate chocolate cake and drank coconut rum that night for dinner.

Our last attempt was on bicycles to San Juan Island. The San Juan Islands in Washington are stunning and everyone should visit them once in their lives. One weekend in mid July, we packed everything we needed on our bikes. Took the ferry over to the island. Biked off the ferry into the rain and it continued to rain the rest of the weekend. Being wet, cold, and miserable is pretty low on the fun scale. Thankfully, a couple of bars in town saved our weekend and renewed our spirits with….spirits.

I haven’t completely given up on backpacking, but an attempt in a drier location is a must. Stay tuned.