April 29th--Bruceport to Fort Canby

This morning was not unlike the last, as i got up at a decent hour and then went for a hike down the trail to the beach. The flora were not unlike those at Rainbow Falls, with less of the plants characteristic of the rain forest--less Trilium and Devils Club--but more of the berries and flowers: Salmonberry, Thimbleberry, Ferry Bells, Salal, etc. There were also more horsetails.

I was feeling rather low energy from my sparse dinner of sardines, which made me more hurried, in order to get to breakfast, and more sluggish, because of the lack of energy. I discovered when i got down to the beach that my camera was suffering from a similar problem. I hoped that the batteries would last long enough to take pictures at the beach and back up the hill to camp. Despite the many attempts at capturing the beautiful early-morning view of the mudflats, the batteries did last.

The beach was at the outlet of a small creek, and i attempted to bushwack for a while up the opposite side i had come down. This was unsuccessful, as it appeared that the beach was actually at the confluence of two separate washes, and the way i was going would probably put me way east of the park. I went back to the trail--which was actually a wide road, though blocked in several places by fallen trees--and hurried back to camp before i passed out.

I made my usual morning gruel, cursing the alternately warm and freezing weather as intermittant clouds passed before the sun. The stove was difficult to get started as the winds up on the bluff were quite strong, and difficult to escape. Having on previous days noticed that cooking the gruel in the big pot went pretty quickly while simply boiling water in the smaller cup actually took more fuel, i decided to just try to boil all of the water first in the big pot. This plan backfired as it became clear that the gruel heated up quicker because of the greater volume of solids to absorb the heat. This little experiment wasted a great deal of fuel and time, unfortunately. After finishing breakfast, cleaning up and packing, it was nearly noon before i got on the road. Once on the road, the cold snaps were easier to handle, but i quickly became overheated when the sun was out, so i shed some layers.

The debris-ridden shoulders of Hwy 101 were still a bother, though i had a great tailwind. I decided to forgo the latter in order to avoid the former, and see some sights besides, by taking a detour to Bay Center, which lies on a rock in the middle of Willapa Bay, connected to the mainland by pasture land created behind a dike. The wind was strong, but not difficult to deal with once reaching the outskirts of Bay Center. There was a store and a few square blocks of houses in Bay Center, with a county park. Past the houses and at the top of the hill was another county park, also with a campground. For whatever reason, the park was "closed" (meaning the bathrooms were locked and nothing was being maintained). This would have been a great place to stay the night before, had i known about it, though many of the roads and campsites were torn up by earth-moving equipment.

Coming down the other side of the peninsula was pleasant enough, passing through the community of Rhodesia Beach. The roads were rough, though relatively free of debris.

Once back on the main road, though, i was quickly put in a bad mood by clearcuts flanking the road, debris on the shoulder (including a lot of tree bark from logging trucks) and yahoos in pickup trucks screaming unintelligibly from their cabs. I spent an inordinate amount of brain energy contemplating my revenge on the latter. They aren't actually particularly scary (in fact, the totally indiscernible yelps that come out of these vehicles, followed by the sight of puppy-like rambunctious gesticulations in the cab, are kind of amusing more than threatening), but they are deeply offensive. It amazes me the extent to which i can put up with endless amounts of bullshit on city streets while at work, but on tour on the open road, the mildest slight to my sensibilities throws me out of sorts for hours.

In any case, after miles and miles of fuming over yahoos, clearcuts and road debris, i was put at ease near the southern end of Willapa Bay by rolling hills through wildlife preserves alongside beautiful estuaries. Things became somewhat less pleasant on the approach to Ilwaco with increasing headwinds, more traffic and proliferating Tsumami Zone signs. On top of this, the roads then became unexpectedly hilly, the short, steep hills being quite numerous. The traffic thinned out after Ilwaco as i continued along the Columbia River toward Fort Canby and Cape Disappointment. After reaching the campground and reading some maps and picking up some literature, i continued on toward the Fort and the lighthouse. I explored the old batteries for some time, then sat down to eat some carrots with peanut butter. Despite the advancing hours, i decided to hike the .75 miles to the lighthouse. The trail went past Dead Man's Cove, which was quite pretty, then joined the old road from the Coast Guard station to the lighthouse. This was one of the busiest parks i had seen for a while, and i was a bit flummoxed by this. I spent only a short time at the lighthouse, partly to avoid people, and partly because i still had plans to make it to Fort Stevens, a mere couple of miles as the crow flies, and easy to see from the lighthouse, but about 30 miles away taking the road east past Ilwaco and over a bridge to Astoria, then back west to Camp Stevens. By the time i made it back down toward the campground, though, i decided to just spend the night there.

I went down to the beach for a bit and checked in with Ron to assure him i'd be at the beach house as scheduled on the 2nd. At the campsite, i talked with Adrienne for a while and considered whether or not to go the couple of miles into Ilwaco for dinner. After the experience cooking in the morning, i became reluctant to use my stove. Eventually, i decided to just eat some sardines again. Inevitably, this just put me to sleep.