Dateline July 17, 2013, Washington to the Redwood Forest

Out of Coeur d'Alene, twenty miles through the rest of Idaho, and on to Spokane. Both of John's parents grew up in Spokane before meeting in Seattle at the University of Washington. It had been so many years that we took a pass on visiting old home sites and the golf course where John had his first lesson, and headed out into what is called the Inland Empire of Washington. We have to admit it felt more like the Midwest. We hit a stretch of highway where the planting fields are actually labeled with what is in them. We made it a game: guess the crop first, check the sign to see how we did.

As we got closer to the Columbia River, John talked about the Ginkgo Petrified Forest, where the family used to stop on Seattle-to-Spokane drives when he was a boy.

The building was as John remembered it. We took a tour of the museum and had a long talk with the Washington State Park ranger who runs the place. We discussed the dates around the town of Vantage where the park sits, and the Ice Age events that left the petrified forest behind and cut the gorge the Columbia now runs through. She also told us about the Washington State Park system and pointed us to one about five miles south. We had been planning to push on toward the Cascades, but decided to give the local park a try.

They had full hookups, which for non-RV campers means electric, water, and a sewage dump. (We wish that could be described more elegantly. It cannot.) As we approached, the camp looked like an oasis dropped into the brown desert. Tall trees protected the area from high wind. The one sign that gave us pause was a "no walk" notice for a section of the park, on account of rattlesnakes. We found a site that looked out over the Columbia River and settled in.

A rum and Diet Coke toast to the park, a hamburger off the grill, and to bed. The site had a clean shot at the satellite, which gave us a few minutes of TV and a quick catch-up on the news of the world. A few minutes was all we wanted.

In the morning we set out for Seattle. The drive up over Snoqualmie Pass was full of memories: John learned to ski here starting in first grade. Down the other side, across Mercer Island (another of John's childhood addresses), and over Lake Washington into the city.

We wanted to see Pike Place Market and the fish vendors. We found a good place to park. It was only 9:30, before the crowds. We stopped first at the Old Curiosity Shop, where John had gone as a Cub Scout. Do things really change, or was it always a tourist trap? There is even a Ferris wheel now.

We walked the shops along the piers and eventually climbed the long set of stairs up to Pike Place Market. It really is a climb. We headed into the market itself. The vendors at the fish counter were throwing the big salmon, just like you have seen in old photographs and films set in Seattle.

It was still too early for lunch, but we wanted to stop at Lowell's, a longtime favorite of John's mother. She used to come down to meet an old family friend, Mavis Leyrer, whose children grew up alongside Carol, Will, and John on Queen Anne Hill. We had a bowl of chowder, which was fantastic, and walked back out to the market. The flowers were gorgeous.

We called John's brother Will to see if we should pick up salmon for dinner. He said no, he had Saturday night's dinner all arranged, and tonight was already chicken.

As we mentioned in the Montana post, we had a part being shipped here for the Roadtrek. We stopped to pick it up. Not in yet. We asked for a good local wine store to kill some time. We were sent to the Wicked Cellars, where we met the owner and had a fun half hour learning about Washington State wines. We bought four bottles. Came back to the parts counter, picked up the part, and headed for the Mukilteo ferry. (We had to use the name. Mukilteo.)

We arrived at Will and Cathy's around 5:30. Will was kind enough to point out that it was cocktail hour. (Thank God. It was 8:30 our time. We thought we might have missed it.) We had wine, then a wonderful chicken salad dinner.

In the morning we cleaned the rig, and Janice set about replacing the new RV part. Will helped.

All went well. The Roadtrek was good as new. We went out to the local fish market, which turned out to be a truck and trailer parked outside the grocery store with fresh seafood. Will picked up beautiful salmon and mussels for dinner that night.

Will and Cathy had invited John and Mary Hoverson over. John Hoverson is a childhood friend of John's from Seattle. He went to Kansas University and was a fraternity brother of John's good friend Mike Baxter, from high school in Topeka. Mike and Kathy Baxter live on Amelia Island, just north of us in Florida.

Will's son Stephen and his wife Lauren came out from Seattle for the evening. We had a wonderful time with Lauren's parents on our Alaska trip two years ago, playing golf until 10:00 at night and then having dinner at the house. A few nights later we met them downtown at Club Paris in Anchorage for some of the best steaks anywhere.

The family deer came to visit during the day. John could not resist a few snapshots of his buddy.

Dinner was tremendous. Will makes the best salmon on the BBQ. A great evening. Sunday was a day of rest, a quiet day with Will and Cathy. A wonderful weekend.

Monday it was back on the road. We took the ferry to Port Townsend at the northeast tip of the Olympic Peninsula. The day was for seeing all we could of Olympic National Park. On the crossing, we passed one of our Navy's submarines being escorted into port by the Coast Guard.

A striking sight.

We drove up to Port Angeles and found the road out to Hurricane Ridge. The pictures tell the story better than words can.

We took a hike around the ridge. There was enough snow left in July to throw a few snowballs.

Driving back down to Port Angeles we started south on Highway 101, around the Olympic Peninsula and through several rain forests, and on down to the Columbia River, crossing into Astoria, Oregon. Astoria is a wonderful old port town with deep heritage. We drove through and continued on out to Fort Stevens, Oregon for the night.

We got an early start in the morning to drive the Oregon coast.

The beauty was stunning, the only complaint being the rain and overcast, which cost us a number of views we know would have been wonderful, based on the ones we did get.

Then there was Bandon Dunes.

The place every golfer longs to play. We arrived in the early afternoon, got out of the RV, took a look, got back in for another layer of clothing. We watched a few groups go off the first tee dressed for winter. The course, what we saw of it, was beautiful. If the temperature had been twenty degrees warmer and the mist of rain not present, we would have been tempted. We did not buy hats or shirts at the pro shop on the way out. There is a personal rule about that: you have to play the course before wearing any trinkets. The one exception we have ever made is Augusta National, where you can only buy the gear if you have attended a round at the Masters.

We continued south down the rest of the coast to Crescent City, California, and the beginning of the Redwood Forest.