Elwha campground is lush, green, and peaceful unless you are here on a weekend. On Friday, the place is packed by seven in the evening. Only a few people leave Saturday morning, and again on Saturday evening the grounds are buzzing with campers and dogs.
The people to the right of us have three Chihuahuas and a Rat Terrier who bicker constantly. The smallest Chihuahua seems to start the fights, snarling and snapping at the others until the noise of squalling squeak-toy dogs reaches a climax and the owners holler at them. The people on the other side of us have two Yorkies, and we round out the little dog loop with our fat pugs. If something sets one yapper off, all eight dogs join in the song as the two Great Danes three sites down lift their heavy heads and think, "what silly creatures."
On Sunday morning we attend a small church in Port Angeles and enjoy the service immensely. It is not often that we find a really good church (preaching is solid and songs are meaningful, not fluffy) and we are warmly welcomed. After lunch and some good conversation, we drive back to camp to feed pugs and Hubs (second lunch).
This is the first day that the mountains haven't been covered in clouds since we have been here, so we take the opportunity to see Hurricane Ridge in Olympic National Park this evening. The road is a steady incline for 18 miles, with many twists and turns, signs for falling rocks, and great views.
Somewhere off in that blue mist are the San Juan Islands, a place I desperately want to visit.
We reach the visitor's center at the end of the road and are greeted by astonishing views of every mountain peak in the Olympic Range.
Snow-clad glaciers grind their steady way over mountains.
|These peaks are called Unicorn something and Unicorn mumble mumble. They were subjected to a forest fire and look forlorn without trees to cover them.|
Diminutive deer forage for food precariously close to the road as we drive back down to sea level.
Evergreen trees are draped in natural tinsel.
What a great way to spend the day!