Where Is The Metric Button?

 In about a week or so I have to be back in Spokane, get the van with a name secured and get on a jet for home. But in the meanwhile, I can just take my time getting there.

I spent my last night on the Washington coast in Kalaloch campground in  Olympic National Park  just of 101.  It was dry camping, with no hookups, and in spite of the rain my solar and batteries kept everything going through the night, with power to spare. The only questionable thing was my fresh water supply, was at 25% of I don’t know how much, so I used it sparingly, and have been keeping it to 50%, of I don’t know how much.

Picnic In The Rain Forest

You really shouldn’t complain about the rain in a rain forest, but it really really rained, and rained hard.

In the morning  highway 101 turned east,  for most of the 1540 mile north south journey of 101, this is the only place where it runs east west.

I pulled into Crescent  Lake. In the parking lot deer were munching on what deer munch on but down on the shore the view was spectacular.

Crescent  Lake

I could have stayed here all day, except I wanted to get up to Port Townsend to search for the Western Flyer, that was the boat Steinbeck chartered when himself, his wife and pal marine biologist Ed  Rickets sailed to the Sea Of Cortez.

The shop where the boat was being restored was locked up. Some locals said the restoration was complete others said it wasn’t and still others didn’t know anything about the boat, Steinbeck, or what country Mt. Rushmore is in.  If it is back on the water it will be at  Monterey bay, Moss Landing. That is also where  Phils Fish Market  is and they make the best  Cioppino on the planet and I might finally get to see the boat if it's there. 

Port Townsend is still a great little town to be in.  It even has espresso. and  accommodations for the night were easy to find  at Fort Worden State Park.

The park was full hookups for only $45.00 and since I was packing wastewater, I needed a drain. I could have chosen the forest camp or the beach. I chose the beach because I thought it would be more interesting to walk around, and it would have been except for the gale force winds that rocked the van so much in the night I thought I was back in the hurricane in Ft. Lauderdale.

What Good Is A Coastal Fort Without A Cannon Battery

In the morning the wind was still blowing, so I headed to the ferry  terminal and back to the mainland. I had never seen anyone denied boarding before but the head purser came off the boat to inspect a semi that had leaked oil all over the deck on a earlier voyage.  With the driver they inspected the truck and when the purser spotted the oil leak, he said you ain't sailing until you get it fixed.

The van with a name had no such issues and got a primo spot on the bow. 

It Felt Good To Be Back On The Water

When I got off the ferry I could have gone and looked at the tulips, but it was probable now to late so I headed north. Being this far north in Washington I decided to go to Canada.

Passport conveniently in hand I proceeded to the border, and fortunately didn’t have to wait in the mile long queue of trucks waiting for entry.

I waited at the gate behind a car where the driver was showing the immigration officer his phone. Maybe it was a cat video, I don’t know.

When it was my turn at the gate, I handed the officer my passport. She proceeded to ask me questions like when I was last in Canada. Where was I going. Why was I going there. Do I have guns, how many meters in a kilometers,  why is the sky blue, and when she got to when did I leave home, she left me no choice  but to start at the beginning of the trip, sitting in row two of a 737 800 (no peddles) drinking boxes of water that my pal doesn’t like, and eating a sweet potato omelet served with roasted  potatoes, who does that? Taking a cab in Portland to the van, doing some errands  Driving to the locks, and then to them dang tulips. Kicking around for a few days before Spokane, then eating the best Broasted Chicken on the planet…. at Maxwell House. At some point she handed me back my passport, closed her window and maybe retired. I don’t know, all I know is I couldn’t remember where the metric button is, and exactly where I am, in new territory is the same place as the fold on my atlas page, but Ha the well-stocked on-board navigation library just happens to have a primo map of BC. The metric button is on the steering wheel, and I am heading east on  highway 3 at 100 kmh.