Olympic Self-Control
... in not giving the post a very tasteless title involving world's largest, Hoh, Fork and over stimulation. You're welcome.
Today I am leaving volcanos, scarred terrains and general disaster-scapes behind and heading for the temperate rain forests and beaches of the Olympic peninsula. The plan is to try and cram as much in today so as to potentially leave tomorrow free for the Euros final, which lands very inconveniently at midday here.
Of course plans rarely go according to …. well plan I guess.
I am vaguely tempted to go and see the Giant Yardbird en route. Americans love to lay claim to the “world’s biggest” as a tourist draw to their towns. I seem to be the anti-tourist in that, although I will feel the draw of a decent ( or even ridiculous ) roadside attraction, I will generally do this in fly-by mode and not buy any cheap merch or contribute to the local economy.
Unless they throw in a sasquatch of course, in which case I’m all in. Maybe I should set up a retirement side-hustle consulting on nerd tourism…
Anyway, the Yardbird somehow seems less legitimate to me than, say, a giant ball of string or a super-sized rocking chair (perhaps because it is not making any superlative claims?) so I pass it by.
I have an appointment with the world’s largest spruce.
The signs boldly declare a world record spruce. Now I can’t confirm whether the McWhirter rule was ever run over it, so I guess we have to take them at their word. I can confirm that it is a big, old tree.
Back on the road and heading to the Hoh Rainforest. This is where the wheels start to come off the plan. I had intended to visit the rain forest, forge on through to check in at the motel in Forks and then head further north to visit Shi Shi beach and Cape Flattery, thereby ticking off a fair proportion of my Olympic peninsula checklist. Obviously a pipe dream.
American National Parks are curious. As mentioned previously, they tend to like a big reveal, but they seem to be designed to stoke anticipation too. It is not unusual to turn off towards a National Park, only to find that there are 10 or 15 miles leading up to the entry point and then another 10 miles beyond to actually get where you need to be. And they tend not to be fast roads. Throw in an hour’s queue and you can see how things start to go off the rails…
Still it was worth the wait. I head for the Hall of the Mosses - huge old growth trees, draped in moss. I have a sneaking feeling that the moss would have looked somewhat more verdant and spectacular if there had been any rain recently rather than the heatwave, but impressive nonetheless.
By the time I get to Forks, I am about ready to give up driving for the day and so set out to explore the town. Forks, it turns out, is the setting for the Twilight Saga. Haven’t read the books. Haven’t seen the films. Won’t be doing the tour. But the town certainly seems to have learnt to leverage it for the tourists. You need teen-angst, vamp, werewolf memorabilia - Forks is for you!
Another thing that Forks seems to have leant into is the caffeination industry. This is quite prevalent around Washington - the little drive through huts for that espresso hit. Often selling Red Bull too. My assumption is that (a) this part of the world has a love affair with coffee and (b) in the US you are always driving long distances so a bit of a boost is probably in order. Of course maybe here no-one wants to sleep for fear of what might come in the night…
Finally, I stumble across a nice bar, whose proprietor assures me that he will be showing the Euros finals tomorrow. He is very pleasant and I can’t hold it against him that he is not sure who Spain are playing. Seems like the die is cast and that tourism will take a break tomorrow (unless I manage to squeeze in an early visit to the beachcomber museum!).