[Pictures here.  Now geotagged.]

We arose early on our final day - we needed to attain Shi Shi Beach and a water source there before we could rehydrate our breakfast.  The tide was again low so we had little trouble navigating the final gateway to the smooth wide sands of Shi Shi Beach.  As the driftwood at the high-water line was deep in shade at the forest's edge, and would be for hours, we spread a small tarp on the damp flat sand, made stools of our bear canisters, and tucked into a random array of our remaining food.  My policy is never to pack food for your final lunch - by then you'd rather just hold out for the first cheeseburger.

I discovered that my camera had enough power to take a shot - but not to save it on the SD card - so I used the miniscule internal memory to take one final shot of Gen and Anna on the beach (sorry, marked friends/family only in flickr as are all my shots of friends/family - yes, you're missing about 30 pictures out of the set if you're not on my list.)

What can I say about Shi Shi?  It protected its secrets well, and who am I to tattle?  I'll just confirm that it was a worthy destination, though attaining it was strenuous enough that it didn't leave much time to enjoy its charms.  In the end the journey is always the greatest reward, and Shi Shi can be celebrated as the catalyst of a remarkable and magical expedition.

Along the length of Shi Shi we passed a number of tent encampments starting breakfast fires tucked up against the forest. Shi Shi wasn't as deserted as the previous two days had been.  Already we were returning to civilization.  At the end of the beach one final steep climb up a cliff led to a couple of miles of forest trail, gradually straightening, widening and becoming less muddy, and eventually developing into a quite civilized set of boardwalks and bridges before depositing us in a car day-park a mile of paved road from our car.  This trail took us from the wild where time is marked by stride after stride, by tides, shadows, sunsets, and the song of the soul, and returned us again to the precise increments of omnipresent second-counting LCDs, per-minute roaming charges, miles per hour, ferry schedules.  We will learn to appreciate these things again, and ease gently into that world of objective time with a dinner reservation for a seafood extravaganza.

But part of us will always remain in that narrow strip of land between the flat sea and the towering stone along this extraordinary piece of wilderness.

Aug 13th 6?AM

[Pictures here.]

The third morning proved that each new reward had to be earned.  It started easily enough - a leisurely awakening and breakfast still put us on the move with morning shadows stretched across the long stretch of tide-scrubbed beach before us.  (In Shi Shi time that's "long shadows o'clock AM" I think.)

After a few hours pleasant walking the beach terminated abruptly in the final and most rugged set of headlands.  By now the tide had risen enough to block our continued progress.  We were forced (oh poor us) to stop and entertain ourselves on the beach for four or five hours - exploring, reading, napping, roasting tortillas over a tiny fire, sketching, inventing a game involving knocking over the other player's shells with increasingly heavy rocks, and even an impromptu softball game.

At last the waters began to recede and like a time lock grant us entrance into an extended section of seaside boulders.  We began a slow tiring clamber over and around these boulders, choosing between smooth and slippery at the water's edge and rough and dry but steeply jumbled farther up.

This supposedly short but seemingly interminable stretch did eventually terminate in a small cove circled by stacks, and we decided to split our team - some of us going up a a steep incline (assisted by ropes) and over the neck of a small headland, and others taking advantage of the still-lowering tide to skirt it.  I took a panorama looking back into the glaring light at the cove and it's guardian sea stack.

The cove on the far side proved the last passable section for a while.  The scramble had taken us hours and Shi Shi beach seemed to be receding faster than we could approach.

Again ropes appeared to climb the bluffs to a section of trail around this impassible stretch of coast.  The trail wound through the ancient forest, on a spongy bed of needle loam that seemed yards deep in spots.  At times spectacular views would emerge, glimpses down the cliffs a hundred feet or more to rocky coves.  At times you had to climb down those same cliffs to small coves littered with driftwood, and then climb back up the other side.

At this point Shi Shi's protective magic was out in force.  My camera battery began to fade, sometimes shutting down the camera before a photo had been saved.  Luckily I had a backup battery.  Unluckily it was completely dead too.  Now I know why pictures of Shi Shi seem rare!  You have to leave behind civilization and its servants Time and Technology to enter its secret realm.

At last we left the lush highlands and descended into a wonderland of stacks, arches, and caves called the Point of Arches.  We crept along the seaweed-slickened tidepools, entering one cove through a portal bored right through a headland.  Our slow and strenuous progress (over four hours to go under three miles) without much break was taking its toll, and with the sun minutes from sinking and more slick rocks ahead we opted to stop for the night right where we were - one headland "shy" of Shi Shi Beach itself.

After a scramble to set up tents on the sand as far from the tideline as possible (which wasn't much) before dark fell completely, we took stock of our surroundings.  A more beautiful place could not be imagined, even after the high standard of the previous night.  House-sized boulders were plopped into a narrow strip of sand, backed by cliffs dense with overhanging vegetation, and rocky tidepools filling the cove at the evening low tide.  Each end of the cove extended westward in a series of sea stacks (I count 17) far out into the water, framing a fantastic sunset that stretched out for almost an hour.  My camera revived just long enough to take 2 parts of my planned 3-shot panorama.

The stars emerged brilliantly again, and after an awesome dinner (recipe follows) we roasted the remaining marshmallows by a cozy fire with our backs to the cliffs, our faces lit by the firelight as we gazed upward and outward, pointing out satellites and Perseid meteors to each other, and at last climbed into our tents and gratefully slept our exhaustion away.

Jon's freezer bag Pulao: Put 1.5 cups of minute rice in a freezer bag with a few tablespoons of raisins.  In a dry skillet toast a few tablespoons of sliced almonds, a tablespoon of dried onion, about a teaspoon of Madras curry powder, half a teaspoon of salt and garam masala, a dash of cinnamon, cloves, and chile powder.  Add this mixture to the bag.  To cook, pour in 1.5 cups of hot water and let it sit for a few minutes.  Top with some chicken from a foil packet or can.  Season liberally with hunger and exhaustion and a good view, and enjoy!  Makes enough for about two people.

Aug 11th ??PM

[Pictures here.]

I love the fact that I don't know what time it is, and could only guess accurate to a couple of hours based on the fact that the sun set some time ago.  Our progress took us increasingly into magical places, where time itself seemed to flow in waves like the tides that measure our journey.

But back to the day's beginning.  After a leisurely awakening and breakfast, an even more leisurely clamber over some of the small sea stacks and tidepools made accessible by the negative morning tide, and an extended repacking and goodbye to half our number, I was stunned to find that the midday high tide had returned to fill the rocky bay.  At last we started down the beach. The tides are the only reason to pay attention to clock-time at all, as many of the headlands we skirt will be blocked during mid-afternoon's high tide.

The clouds, perhaps lightened by the few sporadic attempts at drizzle during the night, had given way to a warm sun.  My pack felt heavy (it was nearly double my ultralight ideal of 24 pounds) and the beach was narrow and rocky.  We regularly encountered snags fallen across the width of the beach like whale skeletons, and we were forced to squeeze between these decaying ribs.  This only heightened the fact that we were free from trails and just walking on untracked sandy beach.

Seals (or more likely sea lions) sunned themselves on the tips of disappearing rocks until no rock was visible at all - just a seal floating on top of the calm water, holding head and flippers high to keep them dry until the tide irresistibly steals their claims.

A foretaste that we were in store for a steadily increasing dose of wilderness magic came as we approached a headland and came upon petroglyphs of orcas - smooth half-inch grooves in the face of a rock where the headland and beach meet.  The ancient markings looked practically fresh compared with the ancient landforms surrounding us.

Gen led us on a steep almost-trail toward the base of some rocky monoliths called Wedding Rocks.  The hands-and-feet path failed to place us at the summit, but instead wound between two of the monoliths and then stopped abruptly.  The narrow fern-filled gap was only a few feet wide, and faced a precipitous drop down the far side.  This summit proved just big enough for us to remove our packs and gobble crackers and cheese for lunch.  Our food is all stored in bear canisters, which are round and just the wrong size to get a bear claw or jaw around.  And also just the wrong size to handle with human paws.  We were careful not to let any of our canisters fumble away from us and down hundreds of feet on either side!

Sated and cooled, we descended from our tree-top viewpoint, availing ourselves of conveniently located ropes for the final scramble to the beach, which proved a bit wider and softer than our prior ones.

This beach widened even further at Cape Alava, where the water, protected by sea-stacks so large as to be given island names in their own right, became as still as glass.  What sounded like a motor we finally concluded was a constant hum of crowds of sea lions half a mile away.  The luminous mid-afternoon light reflecting off this mirrored surface, and the glowing of the humidity-laden air itself, provided an amazing foreground for the dark gray and green rock and forest formations offshore.  This magical glow would persist for the next two days - giving every step and action a fairy-tale quality.

Around the corner of the Cape, the beach remained wide and soft, tempting some of us to hike barefoot in the edge of the murmuring surf.  Time continued to ebb, flow, pause, to be measured in thoughts and light and feelings rather than in our everyday objective numerical quantities - a cause, or an effect, of an otherworldly aura that settled over the afternoon.

The tide was receding enough for us to skirt another headland, but a series of ropes leading up and over a narrow neck engaged our sense of adventure.  The far side of the headland increased still more in beauty and interest as the cliffs rose on our right.  Sea stacks rose offshore capable of inspiring Japanese gardeners to retire in humble awe.  As we approached the mouth of the Ozette River, seagulls and shore birds massed by the thousand.  The river felt warm and clean as we forded it's modest flow with little risk.

As the north side of the river was our planned destination for the night, we headed up the beach to see what camping spots we could find, and immediately came across a spot more perfectly situated than we could possibly have envisioned.  It lay just behind the highest driftwood, with a view westward to the ocean and the Ozette River mouth, framed by a spectacular cliff.  The sheltered eastern side sloped down in a gravelly slope down to the penultimate bend in the Ozette River.  The camp site itself was a grassy patch between these two views, backing up on the north side to a point of forest. The spot was equipped with a fire pit, well placed logs for benches, and even a charmingly crude driftwood table.  We knew instantly we had found one of the best camping spots ever.  The universe had shown us where we belonged after a day far more strenuous than the mileage would suggest.

A quick dip in the cool river, a long stone-skipping competition, delicious hot soup cups for dinner, and a stroll down the beach surrounded by wheeling flocks of shorebirds, followed by an extended sunset, would have been sufficient to cap the perfect day, but we exceeded that definition of perfection by lighting a cheery campfire, roasting marshmallows, and watching the slow emergence of brilliant stars (a rare Washington treat.)

It was clear from the camaraderie of our party, the humor, and the frequent pauses to simply feel the wonder of being here, at this time out of time, with each other, that this was destined to be one of our most precious backpacking memories.

The closer we get the more the ancient landscape heightens our senses and lightens our spirits, in a way I've experienced only sporadically on other expeditions.  Does this Tolkeinesque spell flow from the reclusive Shi Shi Beach, concealed behind an impressively craggy headland a few miles north?  I would not be surprised to encounter elves tomorrow.

Aug 10th 9:30PM

[Pictures here.]

I think it must be about 9:30, but since I haven't brought along a watch, I have no confirmation that it's not much earlier or later.  Dark fell some time ago, but here at the western-most point of the continental US and the Pacific time zone, and with Canada lurking just out of sight to the north, and with a sky darkened by clouds, I don't know if my sunny California estimate of dark at 8:45 holds.  The surroundings of tall firs and rainforest ferns, salal, huckleberry, abutting a coast of perpetually damp tide- and kelp-blackened boulders present an exotic palette to my summer-desiccated California senses.

We've come to this remote corner of the country to fulfil a long-standing desire - to backpack into a beach reportedly one of the most beautiful in the world - Shi Shi beach.  Far west of Seattle, behind the craggy masses of the Olympic Range, lies a stretch of coast protected from development by its remoteness and harsh landscape - where the steep temparate rainforest descends sharply to the Pacific.  This stretch of coast alternates beaches and coves with jutting headlands holding their positions against the relentless advances of their salty foe - the seemingly insignificant but constant forays of waves given crushing force by tidal surges twice a day, and compounded by furious winter blasts.  Over relentness geologic time scales, many of these headlands have faltered in their defense, leaving isolated sentinels of rock offshore bravely standing against their ultimate fall.  Among this rugged seascape, nestled just under Cape Flattery - Washington's top-left corner - lies miles of coastline accessible only to the dedicated and adventurous.

I worked in Seattle for 10 years and never managed to explore the length of the beach although once a day hike took us to the northernmost end where a beach backed by rocky cliffs and illumined by a champagne-colored mist charmed us with it's beauty and mystery.  We've wanted to return ever since to penetrate farther into that mist.

This year we had some time for adventure and since I spent a fair bit of time in the Sierras last year going farther afield was appealing.  To spend some time with my daughter (in Germany for most of last year's adventuring) by doing something unusual and challenging, Shi Shi Beach bubbled up at last to the realm of possibility.

Shi Shi presents some obstacles - there is very little trail on this stretch of coast, requiring beach walking, one eye on tide tables to skirt the headlands, fording of a river, and even I've heard some ropes to help clamber over headlands even the lowest tides can't accommodate.  What's not to like?

In our party are my wife and I, my daughter Genevieve and her friend Anna from Germany, and my brother.  For tonight only we're also accompanied by my other daughter, my sister-in-law and her two kids, and another friend.

We're starting at Ozette Lake trailhead, heading generally north for about 20 miles over the next four days.  From Seattle starting with the 9:30 AM Bainbridge Island Ferry, stopping for permits and bear canisters at the Olympic Wilderness Information Center in Port Angeles, most of our party was on the trail before 4, but the car shuttle my brother and I did delayed our start until 6PM - a long day's driving (did you imagine Seattle was close to the Pacific Ocean?)

This first night was a short 1 hour (3 mile) hike though a mossy forest to Sand Point, a popular overnight destination.  There are quite a few campers here (it is after all a Saturday night in August) but we expect to leave almost all behind as we trade the trail for coastal rambling.

We enjoyed foil packets of Indian dishes while leaning against driftwood on the beach.  Though the sky is layered in cloud we watched the subtle shifting of unnameable hues of blue and gray, and a few flashes of orange over the silvery-smooth bay, which turned out to be a satisfying sunset experience even without actually seeing the sun.

Now I'm certain we're somewhere into the double-digits of PM as I scrawl these recollections.  The sleepy murmurs and goodnight songs of my companions have faded away, leaving only the soft crashing of the surf and the strengthening breeze in the fir tops, to lull the wildness to sleep - and to include me in it's mothering embrace.  Tomomrrow, we leave the trail and strike out north along the beach, to immerse ourselves ever deeper into the wilderness in search of the elusive Shi Shi beach.

Just got my first yearly bill from PG&E, reflecting the performance of our solar array.  Good news - right about where I expected it to be!  Here's the stats for those that need encouragement to take the solar plunge:

• Power generated: 13,315 kWh
• Power bought from PG&E: 3,358 kWh
• Annual bill from the power company: $348.00
• Sum of monthly minimum payments for connected meters: ~$50
• Savings: $3,221.14 [1]
• Actual rate of return: 8.95% [2]
• Total payback length: 11.2 years [3]
• Extrapolated payback date: 11 Oct 2017

Notes:

1. This calculation takes into account the sliding price scale for energy over the baseline, and actual changes in the rates and baseline during the year.  Some straight-line averaging was necessary to correlate the readings taken from the meter with those from the power company.
2. Tax free!  And calculated only over the payback period - once the array pays for itself, I will continue to get free energy for many years.
3. Straight-line extrapolation based on assumed fixed consumption, and fixed energy prices.  It is virtually impossible that energy prices won't rise substantially in the next 10 years, shortening the payback period and increasing the rate of return.