We drove literally like a half hour from Seattle to Edmonds, where we'd gotten a motel next to the ferry that would take us to Kingston. There was some pool time, plenty of wi-fi, and even reusable tableware. (At the risk of sounding like a crazy head, I actually brought plates and silverware so we could just say no to the Styrofoam most motels favor for their "continental breakfasts." Nobody said environmental activism was easy.)
Oh, and while trying to find some restaurant we'd Googled, we found this little burger joint that Chris Pratt has apparently eaten in and you know what? It was delicious. We ate outside and savored our burgers (except Johanna ordered calamari). It was fun.
We were on the ball the next morning because we'd heard the ferries leave RIGHT AT DEPARTURE TIME and if you miss yours, tough luck, you have to wait for the next one. Since our motel was approximately a quarter mile from the ferry, getting in line was easy. We were one of the first ones there because that's how Eric rolls. So we waited a while.
But! Eventually we boarded, parked the car and went above deck (I'm sure that's the correct boating term) to check out the sights. We learned that ferries move fast. We also learned that it's quite windy at the bow. Yes, there were some Titanic "I'm king of the world!" moments because: boat.
|JUST LIKE THE MOVIE.|
|Trying not to get blown overboard.|
It only took about 30 minutes to get from Edmonds to Kingston. The girls had a complete ball. While I spend much of the trip sipping coffee from a bench, they were running around having a grand ol' time. I was slightly afraid Johanna would end up overboard somehow because, well, this is Johanna we're talking about, but! We all arrived safely. We spent approximately five minutes in Kingston--just enough time to get out of town and head for Hurricane Ridge.
Hey, fun fact, I get kind of car sick on windy roads, so this trip wasn't necessarily an easy one for me at times, and wow, getting to Hurricane Ridge was interesting. I solved this problem by closing my eyes and drifting off. I can't sleep for crap at night in a comfortable bed, but throw me in a car and I can sleep like nobody's business.
It turns out Hurricane Ridge is quite beautiful. We had a picnic lunch, then walked to the visitor's center, took some pictures, hit the gift shop, took some more pictures, took a hike, met a deer and--you won't even believe this--took pictures. Well, there's not much else to do there.
|We named her Pip.|
|My snuggle bunnies!|
|The altitude was getting to me, obviously.|
And then we headed for Port Angeles.
So you guys, here's where our story again gets sad. We'd heard from one of Eric's coworkers that Port Angeles is like a mini Astoria, but I can only conclude that she was drunk because nope, not even close. You'd think a town that was basically the gateway to Vancouver, British Columbia, would have something going for it. But you'd be wrong.
It turns out that Port Angeles is kind of grimy and dingy and windy and cold. We got to town in plenty of time, checked into our "Euro hotel" (Abby loved it, I was kind of grossed out by the falling plaster) and walked around. Not a whole lot to see. Well, there was a wicked awesome bookstore and a rather fun candy shop. There was an organic coffee shop. There was the restaurant Bella and Edward had their first date (yes, I'm talking Twilight). There was a Dairy Queen (Johanna is still taking about the huge ice cream cones she, Abby and Eric got). The pizza shop we ate at had bugs crawling around in its window display of pasta that we noticed after we started eating. Not a big confidence builder, that, but it kind of seemed par for the course.
I don't even know what else to say about Port Angeles. It was there and we survived.
|Um... my only photo of the town.|
Next morning! There was an organic bakery across the street from our hotel, but wouldn't you know it, it was closed when I went to procure my breakfast. (Eric and the girls opted to eat oatmeal in our room's kitchenette. Except it wasn't oatmeal I could eat, thus my singular adventure.) So I walked around a little and found that organic coffee shop I mentioned above. The coffee was organic; the food was not.* The owner, who was very nice, suggested I try the organic market down the street. Problem solved! Sipping on my very yummy vanilla latte, I walked to the market... to see that it didn't open until 8 a.m.
It was 7:33. You know what? We may have decided to mosey the hell out of Mt. Rainier, but we got the hell out of Port Angeles. We were just... done.
And were in Forks by 9 a.m. I'll tell you about that on Wednesday. Because! Forks!
*I wasn't being snobby. It's just that I've got a sensitivity to artificial colors, flavors and preservatives, and I was trying to keep my shit together. Literally.