Davis Ck & Buckeye Hot Spring July 12-13

Early on when I began planning this road trip I noticed Glass Buttes a little east of Newberry Volcano, a popular rockhounding site to collect unusual obsidian including mahogany obsidian and sheen obsidian where flow layers reflect back enticing shimmers of light. Digging deeper I realized Davis Creek in California's northeast corner was the site I was really thinking of, famous the world over for intoxicating rainbow obsidian where the jet black obsidian can simultaneously throw back every color of the rainbow including purples and greens if caught in the light at the right angle. There was surprisingly little information I could gather online but the quick summary is that there seemed to be a long history of private claims, a period of time when it was sent to China by the shipping container for cutting material, closure as the USFS figured out how to manage the resource, then finally in the last few years a permit system. If we could get to the USFS office in Alturas a half-hour from Davis Creek and pick up permits in person we would be free to collect two 5-gallon buckets full of the material (each) should we choose to. There are four sites where collecting is currently allowed (my quick take follows). Rainbow is probably the most accessible but does not seem to have had a large amount of material historically removed; we found none of the rainbow obsidian here, only jet black. Pink Lady has a similar sized digging area as Rainbow but we quickly found some of the namesake pink sheen obsidian in pastel hues and determined there are still large chunks to find there as well. Needles (we did not go) is known for the way the obsidian has broken into long skinny shards; it is not known for cutting material but instead for using the shards in homemade windchimes. Middle Fork Davis Creek is the clear standout with the best rainbow obsidian material of the four sites; despite a 150ft wide by 800ft long open cut indicating a vast amount of material has been removed, this was still the easiest site to fill a bucket and with the best material. 

Anyway from what I could find it sounded like it could be a neat thing to try out to break up the drive home on down the back side of the Sierras and so I packed a few tools, gloves, safety glasses, a water sprayer, and buckets. I thought I had it all figured out but as we drove from Portland I noticed a major snag: the permits could only be collected in person, we wanted to collect on a Saturday, and we would be hard pressed to come off a Wizard Island shuttle on Crater Lake, drive over 3 hours, and make it to the USFS office before their 4:30pm closure on Friday (they are closed on weekends). It was probably the crux of the trip and no small feat that we managed to pull it off (more on that in the previous post). After our exhausting rally to non-stop drive multiple hours to get to the USFS office we somewhat miraculously had our permits in hand. We celebrated with a meal at the town's only old-school diner then drove on to Davis Creek. With a bit of day left we had a casual stroll around the Rainbow collecting site to try to get a feel for things. We found plenty of jet black obsidian but nothing with any hints of color that suggested this was going to be harder than I anticipated. Strangely the obsidian at all the sites was not exposed at the surface, instead requiring people to dig shallow pits to excavate chunks of the obsidian. After grabbing a few small pieces and chips we drove a mile to the Lassen Creek Campground. There were several other campers but we found a whole corner we could have to ourselves, right next to a small creek that we could wash up in. There were a few mosquitoes but for a free campsite with a picnic table and a restroom this was not a bad camp at all. 

Strange loud noises in the night revealed themselves to belong to a group of free-range cattle that strolled casually through the campground in the morning. We eat breakfast and I modified my obsidian collecting plan. Since we were right next to it, I wanted to make a quick 15 minute detour to revisit the Rainbow collecting site to try to remove some of the large obsidian we spotted in fresh overhanging digging pits. I knocked out a couple pieces which were jet black with no sheens and so we drove on the surprisingly well-graded forestry roads to the Pink Lady site. Here there were a couple other people chipping rocks and digging. Our obsidian collection really occurred in three stages. In the first stage we got a feel for the diggings by walking them over, eventually finding small chips of the namesake pink sheen obsidian. Once we found an area with a decent density of pink obsidian and started to get good at realizing the strange angles to hold the rocks to get the sheen to appear, we next started collecting a bunch of fist-sized chunks into a pile. I then tried to chip corners off to provide windows into their interior, which Heather then examined for pink shines. If they passed the test, into the bucket they went. In the final and most advanced stage Heather sniffed out a good place to dig, miraculously managing to find a place between all the other places that had been previously dug and backfilled, and turned up several cantaloupe-sized chunks, each with nice pink sheen. At this point we filled up a 5 gallon bucket to its brim and I awkwardly carried it to the nearest place I could drive the car to load. This was a considerable step-up in what we found at the Rainbow site, and so my excitement grew in seeing what we could find at the Middle Fork Davis Mine site.

Rainbow diggings

Pink Lady diggings

A pink sheen prize

The Middle Fork Davis Creek mine already had four cars parked on the side of the road, clearly the place to be. This site makes you pay for your sins a bit by requiring a quarter-mile to (and more importantly from) the mine site. Everyone else we saw here were working holes in the cut face, but we started through our same collecting stages that worked so well at the previous site. Walking around we found no shortage of rainbow obsidian, only requiring us to bend over to pick it up. I got lucky finding a nice 10lb chunk of obsidian to dig out of the top of the cut that had excellent bulleye rainbow patterns. Eventually I found a good spot where someone had recently done the work of excavating a bunch of obsidian, apparently with higher standards than me. Heather and I teamed up to collect a large pile of fist-sized chunks that had not been chipped yet to reveal their interiors. We had a very high hit rate with these, with probably half revealing themselves to have readily visible rainbow patterns. There were a few good ones that I instantly regretted smashing so after a while we left some of the good ones alone. Overall it was very satisfying to chip an edge off a boring rock to reveal a color fire within. I was curious if the other folks there were finding better material than us because we seemed to fill a bucket faster and with less work than them and I was perfectly satisfied with the quality we found. With a fair bit of discomfort I carried the 70+lb bucket back towards the car, requiring frequent breaks. I opted for the direct down the hill intersection with the road that saved me about half the hike back to the car. I laid exhausted in the road while Heather retrieved the car, we loaded up, and somewhat reluctantly began our long drive across the state.

Middle Fork Davis Creek Mine

At final tally once home, we found we had collected 146lbs of obsidian- 10.5lbs from Rainbow, 65lbs from Pink Lady, and 70.5lbs from the Middle Fork Davis Mine! Overall it was a lot of fun to collect and I'm glad we rallied to make it happen. Now I need to figure out what to do with it all...

We left the Davis Creek area in the early afternoon and drove through the most sparsely populated corner of California, a desolate area of farmer fields, dry lakes, and scrubby forests that seemed to be the opposite of the dense ones we saw in Washington. Reno was thankfully easy to pass through compared to Portland or Seattle. The roadside Walker River was in anklebiting mode, a dramatic difference from the last time I saw it when it was raging at a bank-full 6000 cfs. Around 7pm we reached our destination for the night, Buckeye Creek near Bridgeport. As we pulled into the parking lot for Buckeye Hot Springs I could already tell that it might be a struggle to find dispersed camping nearby but I had a few ideas. This used to be a prize low-key hot spring compared to the more popular Travertine Hot Spring nearby, but seemingly this one too has now been insta'd and tiktok'd. As the sun got low, Heather made us quick ramen at the picnic table, then we suited up for a sunset soak. We could see the lower pool was a mad-house and there were a couple groups at the larger upper pool so we opted to soak in the smaller upper pool since we thought we had a chance of "defending" it for ourselves. This actually worked quite well and we got a peaceful soak in a perfectly hot pool and drank blood orange wheat beers as the pastels of the sunset kicked in. Before the light set too low we set off to explore our camping options, finding a ideal space set apart from other people after a few false starts.

Our last day of the trip, we awoke motivated for a morning dip in the hot springs. The population density was suitably low with only two people soaking in the riverside travertine pool and so we slipped into the prize pool with its umbrella curtain of hot dripping water. I struggled to take some photos as my phone would instantly fog. We soaked for over a half hour before hunger and the need to finish the drive set in.

Hunger drove us to stop for breakfast burritos at The Mobil, then Schat's in Bishop for Heather to load up on bread. The rest of the drive was the standard descent through the gauntlet of Adelanto, omnipresent Cajon Pass traffic, and descent into the smoggy hellscape we call home.

We managed a 15 day road trip sampling four national parks (three new-to-me), visited no fewer than six major Cascade volcanoes, and stayed some very memorable places including a fire lookout and a stunning tombolo headland with bald eagles circling overhead. I went through lava tube caves, tree cast caves, and snow caves. I got close-up to several glaciers, snuck in a few hot springs, caught up with a couple friends, and did one of the scruffiest packraft trips I have ever done. Overall we got very lucky with weather, mosquitoes, and dispersed camping. We left much to revisit or check out on a future trip (more Rainier, more North Cascades, Columbia River Gorge, more rivers, etc.), but did pretty well making the most of the long northern days. Thanks to Heather for planning all the food, use of her car, sharing the driving, and as always, the companionship.

Crater Lake July 11

When researching this road trip I found out that the Cleetwood Cove Trail, the only legal access to the shore of Crater Lake, would be closing at the end of the short 2025 season for multiple years while they rebuilt the trail. If we wanted to go for a swim or explore Wizard Island this would have to be the year. Further, I found out that the boat tours and shuttles on the lake start their season on the 8th of July so we would be confined to check it out at the tail end of our trip. A shuttle to Wizard Island was the first reservation I made for our trip with the rest of our plans working backwards from that booking. It would be nothing like our previous snowy trip to Crater Lake but I was looking forward to exploring it a bit further and seeing it from some new vantages. 

From our Diamond Valley Lake campsite we had a little over a half hour of driving through the north entrance to the Cleetwood Cove Trailhead, which was already buzzing with activity at 8am. We checked in, packed up for the hike down and 3 hours on the island, and started strolling down the trail. The trail was alarmingly steep and seemed to be half anchored in pumice deposits, no wonder that they were looking for a more resilient upgrade to the trail before a major accident happens. At the water's edge we could see the colors shift into the deepest blues as the lake rapidly deepened away from the shore with hard to comprehend visibility. On schedule the boat left the dock, cruising counterclockwise around the lake past amazing cliff exposures of lava flows draped over paleotopography, bedded ignimbrites, and cross-cutting dikes. We slowed through Skell Channel, the narrow and shallow gap between the crater edge and Wizard Island's chunky flow, then landed at the dock on the south side. A notable passenger was a woman in full ski garb with skis that had the other passengers and boat crew flummoxed alike. 

Llao Rock flows and ignimbrite

Devils Backbone (a dike system)

Although everyone had free reign to chose what to do with their three hours, virtually everyone beelined for the switchbacking trail up the 750 feet high scoria cone forming the main feature of Wizard Island. At its top the trail circumnavigates the rim of its crater (the Witch's Cauldron as its known), providing both outward and inward views that shifted. From this vantage the lake water's were remarkably deep blue. Interesting wildflowers (including Dr Suessian puffballs) adorned the slopes of the crater and a dead standing forest made for a fascinating natural sculpture garden. The skier donned her skis and everyone watched and cheered as she took on the only skiable snow patch around, a 100 feet descent into the ferocious sounding Witch's Cauldron, a 10 second ride dodging trees and exposed rocks. I've been known to do an adventure stunt or two but even I thought this was rather silly.

The Witch's Cauldron: double black diamond name, 10 second bunny run

This hike killed more time than we realized initially and we started back down the trail, passing a long line of the next group headed up. Most of the way down Heather made the sensible choice to head back to the dock and enjoy the uniquely pure and clear waters of the lake, while I decided to take the Fumerole Bay Trail to its end, and then do some professional grade scrambling across a rubbly flow to try to reach an interesting green pool I spotted on the flow. Fairly shallow and sitting on black rocks I hoped there was a chance at it being somewhat warm but when I finally reached it I found it just as cold as the lake (pretty and with interesting fish though). Unfortunately I had no time to hang out or swim and after only a couple minutes I worked my way back towards the dock so I did not miss my boat.

Clear waters of Fumerole Bay making the dock appear to float

I made it back a few minutes before the boat arrived and we actually left the island a little ahead of schedule. With Heather and my tight plans of exiting the tour, hiking up Cleetwood Cove Trail, traversing the park, and driving over 3 hours to get to Alturas, California before 4:30pm so we could pick up obsidian collection permits, every second seemed to count. Agonizingly the boats had a similarly tight schedule of when they should arrive at the dock (12:45pm), and so the boat operators stalled by filling everyone's water bottles straight from the lake and a full tour of Cleetwood Cove itself.

At 12:45pm we docked at Cleetwood Cove and as if a starter pistol went off, Heather led the charge at a stiff and continuous pace up the trail, dodging and weaving past the human obstacles in our path. This would be our best chance to gain or lose time since the drive would be more or less whatever was thrown at us (speed limits, slow cars, construction zones, etc.). We made it to the top of the trail in 20 minutes flat which I thought was a considerable achievement. I hopped in the driver's seat and we immediately set out counterclockwise around the rim to exit the park at its southern entrance. At the first cell reception Google Maps had us arriving at the USFS Alturas office at 4:15pm which dd not give us a lot of wiggle room! We passed a few slow motorhomes on the highway but for the most part just kept a steady pace with our eyes on the arrival time, making sure it did not creep closer to 4:30pm. As we neared we made a synchronized roadside pee stop with NASCAR pit crew efficiency and then continued on. We arrived at 4:11pm and strolled in to have two woman and a young kid working the desk casually fill out the permits for them. Despite the odds we would get to collect obsidian! It did seem a shame to have to rush away from Crater Lake but we were both satisfied with the mornings activities and the driving not being for naught. Heather's half-hour swim in the lake sounded particularly memorable.

Newberry Volcano July 10

After some weird late night noises (bigfoot or deer grunts?), we awoke to our quiet and calm spot in the woods, a little damp from overnight rain. We detoured briefly to Trillium Lake and waited for a few minutes hoping for the shifting clouds to miraculously disappear and give us the famous view of Mt Hood. Below is the best I did as brief narrow windows shifted across the mountain, requiring your brain to fill in the gaps to paint the collective view. Oh well.

We drove on to Newberry National Volcanic Monument in central Oregon, which Heather and I were both looking forward to checking out for the day. Though it doesn't get the same attention as almost any other Cascade volcano, this complex shield-shaped composite volcano has a half million year history of eruptions spanning the full range of compositions from basaltic to rhyolitic and eruptions from explosive tephras to effusive toothpaste lavas and is actually the largest of all the volcanoes in the Cascade arc. It's most recent eruption was about 1300 years ago. Key features today include two caldera lakes, shoreline hot springs, cinder cones, obsidian lava flows, and flood-formed waterfall gorges. Our first excursion was to drive to the top of Paulina Peak, which offered a commanding view over the obvious expanse of the double caldera rim and of its lakes, lava flows, and craters over a thousand feet below. Like the Spirit Lake area of Mt St Helens there were no specific drone restrictions here so I reveled at the opportunity to get some nice vantages over the Big Obsidian Flow and its interesting spring-fed lakes at its toe. This provided just enough time to dry out the tent before we returned down the hill.

After some navigational confusion (we managed to drive to the end of the campground northeast of East Lake and started hiking before I realized we were not on Paulina Lake!), we parked at the Hot Springs Boat Dock for a quick jaunt over to the lakeside East Lake Hot Springs. There were two distinct hot spring areas, the second one more appealing than the first but still a little too hot, shallow, and algae coated to linger all that long. Still it was a nice spot with an osprey calling from a tree above, ducklings floating past, and fisherman lazily casting offshore.

Next we continued over to Paulina Lake to hike to the more popular Paulina Lake Hot Springs. Annoyingly rules had changed so there was no hiking parking in or beyond the !0.75mile long! campground so I dropped Heather off at the end, drove back to the start, and got a casual run in through the campground. With that nonsense out of the way, we then had a very scenic 1.5 mile hike along the lakeshore. The clear and colorful waters were very memorable, even if they would be overshadowed the following day by the incomparable Crater Lake. We jaunted across the rocky trail, rock hopped a brief swampy section, then crossed the base of an obsidian flow to gain the bay with hot springs. We saved checking out an isolated deep pool for the way back (people in it), and continued on another 0.3 miles to the main hot spring beach.

The hot springs were busy with a half-dozen groups that had boated or hiked over to the springs, but thankfully there were nearly twenty pools to choose from along the shore, hand-dug into the rounded scoria pebbles. We walked past the other groups to take up residence in a very nice log-lined pool furthest along. The temperature, clarity, views, lack of bugs, and pleasant scoria floor made for a world-class hot spring in my estimation. We enjoyed the pool for a good long while and I had a brief dip in the lake before we began walking back.

The day was getting on but we squeezed in a couple more short stops including the short hike onto the toe of the Big Obsidian Flow, a moody contrast between the rough glassy terrain of the flow, the calm waters and forest beyond, and the shifting shadows from clouds overhead. On our way out of the Newberry Volcano we stopped at Paulina Falls, an interesting twin cascade over an amphitheater into a bouldery gorge below.

Towards the end of the day we left Newberry Volcano, overall greatly impressed at the variety of recreational activities, scenic wonders, and superb geology. A short [in the scheme of many long drives we had for this road trip] 1.5 hour drive brought us to the windy shores of Diamond Lake. We were immediately relieved to notice the lack of an apocalyptic level of mosquitoes (as on our last visit here), and celebrated the day with a cold beer at South Shore Pizza, before navigating the maze of the adjacent campground to our reserved lakefront camp spot.

I'm sure there are some nice things to do around Mt Hood that we missed out on but overall we fit a lot of things into the day and really thought Newberry Volcano is an underappreciated Oregon gem. The wind settled through the night and once again I slept well in our cozy rooftop perch at the edge of Diamond Lake.

North Cascades July 8-9

We awoke and soon set off from Douglas Fir Campground. Despite being so close to the main road it ended up being peaceful, the only noise being the fast-moving riffles of the North Fork Nooksack River a stone's roll beyond our campsite. As we were about to leave, a chubby white rabbit casually hopped into our campsite, seemingly a rogue pet without a care and the whole world to eat. After convincing Heather to let it be we drove on up the road to Artist's Point at the roadend, which had only just opened a week before. Snow, snow everywhere, this parking lot was at 5000' elevation but felt like it could have been three times that. From this ridge vantage we had views of Mt Baker to the southwest, craggy Mt Shuksan to the east, and peaks on the Canadian border only 10 miles to the north. While Heather enjoyed the sun and views in the parking lot, I put on my yaktrax and jaunted along to Huntoon Point for more great views of icy mountain faces. An oddity on the return was a women in seafoam green taking photos of her cat Olaf in matching ski googles. We stopped to walk the boardwalk around Picture Lake which had picture-perfect views of Mt Shuksan (frontispiece). We got stuck behind a slow road line painting truck that needlessly killed about a half hour before we were allowed to continue on. We stopped briefly at Nooksack Falls.

Weighing options and with bad weather on its way tomorrow, we settled on a half-hearted jaunt to the visitor center and along the main highway through North Cascades National Park. Warm sun allowed us to dry all our gear at the visitor center before continuing on. We made brief stops at Ladder Creek, the Gorge Dam, and Lake Diablo before turning around. The sights all paled in comparison to Artist's Point and it was clear we would have to put in many miles to get some classic North Cascade views, which with rain on the way we weren't ready to invest in. Like Rainier, it would have to be another time.

In the mid-afternoon we drove south several hours to meet up with my friend Steph and kid for square pizza in Portland (great to catch up!) before driving to Mt Hood to disperse camp south of Trillium Lake. We had a few mosquitoes here but plenty of solitude. The rain did not hit us until after we had settled in for the night. 

Olympic Coast July 6-7

Similar to California's Lost Coast, I was delighted to find out that Olympic National Park has a wild coast of seastacks, rocky headlands, and sandy beaches that could be traversed as a 17 mile backpacking trip with appropriate permits. The full trip would require a costly shuttle, careful planning to navigate several low tide only crossings, and about half of it climbs up and down steep headlands on ropes and ladders instead of traversing all beaches. The more I looked into it the more it became obvious that a quick overnight jaunt into the northern end would allow us to sample the best part of the coast and take in the thousand offshore islands that make up the so called Giants Graveyard. I looked at the tide charts and determined the night of July 6th would work best with our schedule (a 2-5pm low tide window to enter and a <10am window to exit). Toleak Point further south sounded like the more popular camping (it was!) so I got us a backcountry camping permit for Strawberry Point, with its rock headland connected to a  forested terrace by a strip of sand between (tombolo in geomorphic terms). Further dirt suggested the northern trailhead was prone to break-ins and the headland between Third Beach and "fourth beach" was not the most pleasant travel. Diving deeper I found out about a secret unofficial trailhead that started in the forestry near Scott Creek that would cut the 9 mile round trip hike to Strawberry Point down to a comparatively chill 5.5 miles. I had high hopes for this trip but with the backcountry permits capped at 99 persons per location and being 2 days after Independence Day, I also was a little worried campsites would be competitive and the wilderness experience diminished. Happily it all worked out way better than I could have imagined, and despite being a mere 18 hour backpacking trip, ended up being an easy highlight of our road trip.

We got off the Hoh River a little before 3pm, giving us a rather tight window to pack things away, drive an hour, repack for our next trip, and start hiking to cross narrow points on the beach south of Scotts Creek within a low tide window of 2-5pm! Despite this recipe, it wasn't even our fastest or most stressful transition between activities on this road trip! That would come later on a mad dash between Crater Lake, OR and USFS office closing time in Alturas, CA.

We drove 1.5 miles down the subtle, unlabeled forestry road to where it convincingly turned into a trail. We parked in the one large pullout, surprised to not see any other cars here. We efficiently packed on the grass, being way less selective compared to our previous backpack trip. For this one we'd pack White Claws, camping chairs, and a hammock, among other luxuries (and bear canister grrr). We finally stared hiking around 4:15pm, fairly close to the 5pm end of the tidal window. I assumed the NPS' tidal cutoffs were very conservative (correct), but worried the later we arrived the more grim the remaining camp options. The forest was a quite pleasant stroll downhill, across a couple small creeks, a steep uphill climb of 200ft to gain the coastal ridge, then a root or rope clinging descent down to intersect the official trail. A thousand feet further and we exited the forest onto the beach near the mouth of Scotts Creek.

What stunning views! The thousand craggy islands of the Giants Boneyard lined the horizon offshore as we strolled southward along the beach. The NPS' "sub-4ft tide" pinch point still had heaps of clearance and was hardly noticeable at these tides. Clearly the offshore islands are also pretty effective at cutting swells to the coast, leaving a strange scenario of a very rugged looking coastline but with calm seas. As we approached Strawberry Point a pair of bald eagles rode the winds overhead. Arriving at Strawberry Point we hopped across log driftwood and trash flotsam to check out the camping spot on the point. It was a lot smaller than I expected but miraculously unoccupied. The campsite was very exposed to the stiff northwest winds but otherwise this spot was too good to pass up and we worked quickly to setup a tent to claim this treasured spot. A few other groups walked past as we pitched camp, thankfully everyone was more interested in camping at the next headland of Toleak Point. We move some logs to form an effective windbreak for our tent and set up a hammock in the perfect spot with panoramic coastal views but other than that the spot was already set up for us with a piece of a boat acting as a table, benches, a well-designed firepit, and an artistic log windbreak. Other curios adorning the campsite included a whale skull and a giant half of a buoy (that I later used as a prime windbreak shelter for my JetBoil. A pair of bald eagles nested on a tree overhead and occasionally chirped at each other. And yes a carpet of strawberry plants surrounded. As Heather mentioned the overall effect of the spot was of feeling like we were castaways on a deserted island. With camp set up, I convinced Heather to explore some of our private Strawberry headland and then stroll on down to Toleak Point, before we settled into drinks and dinner. We looked into fairly barren tidepools and checked out a sea cave tunnel, then strolled the beach towards the next point.

It was breezy but otherwise a very comfortable stroll. The clusters of trees on the offshore islands added to the allure and drama. As we neared Toleak Point we passed many, many groups camping. Their sites were nice too but man oh man we got the cream of the crop with our picture-perfect spot and solitude. 

At Toleak Point

Back at camp we set up chairs, cracked drinks, and Heather settled into the hammock as I boiled our water for dinner. As we ate, one then both of our guardian eagles perched on the offshore island chattering away. Backlit islands everywhere and low clouds near the horizon, the sunset was magical. As the sunlight abated so to did the wind. It was a place and time to savor.

I awoke close to first light and unzipped the tent to find a quite different view. It was a gray misty morning and the tide was now truly low with rocks exposed everywhere. I had never seen anything like it. Clearly this uplifted shore platform was a fresh legacy of past Cascadia subduction zone earthquakes that pushed the wave-cut surfaces up into the tidal range. Despite the nice sleeping conditions I knew Heather would be eager to check out the tidepools so I gave her a nudge then went out to explore the rocks along the south side of our headland. As I expected in short order I found way more sea life than the asymmetrically high low-tide the evening before. Crabs and snails were everywhere, sea anemones in fluorescent green and pinks, and starfish in bright oranges and purples. We easily killed an hour exploring the tidepools in a small area and looping through a sea cave tunnel.  

Reluctantly we packed up our camp and left our special spot. On the hike out we spotted several large slugs on the trail. Back at the car, we drove on to Port Angeles craving a shower, meal, and some clean clothes. 

On the way we stopped briefly at Lake Crescent to take in its remarkably blue waters. It was an interesting lake with a post-glacial landslide dam that reorganized its drainage and seems to have an active fault that may also be related. We stopped in Port Angeles, the major town on the north side of the peninsula to regroup. We went for a hot tub soak and shower at their fancy community aquatic center, found a coin laundry to refresh our clothes supplies, then had a very tasty meal at the Hook & Line Pub. We toyed with the idea of going back into the national park for the scenic drive to Hurricane Ridge but a quick Google search and webcam view told me we had seen much better already.

Resupplied, we drove on to head towards Bellingham to meet up with my friend Scott. We had a very nice experience with the Port Townsend Ferry as it took off very shortly after we happened to arrive. In Bellingham we carpooled down to Bellingham's waterfront where food trucks and breweries had a trendy setup between historic rusting tanks and a large BMX pump track. We had a nice pizza meal as at least a hundred people assembled for yoga on the lawn (a dog and/or tattoos seemingly required for entry). The weather was perfect and the vibes very chill, a stark contrast to Riverside I thought.  

After parting with Scott and Jen we drove on up the Nooksack River, finding a nice spot to camp at Douglas Fir Campground without much effort. It was another great day in the books. Strawberry Point is a place I won't soon forget.