This week’s topic for the #NatureWritingChallenge is a memorable rainy or snowy day on public lands and the truth is that I could write volumes on this topic. I live in the Pacific Northwest, right? Most of my memorable experiences on public lands are in the rain or snow. That’s all we get around here. At least, that is what we want to everyone who doesn’t live here to believe.
When I think about camping or hiking growing up, most of the scenes my mind conjures are grey, wet and glistening. Blue tarp camping, anyone? Rubber boots, puddles, wrinkled fingers and hair plastered to my skull. Ah, good times.
I thought about writing about several of these times but it turns out the one that sticks out most in my mind happened just this weekend as we adventured in the Olympic National Park. And really, it wasn’t even my memorable rainy day. In fact, if I am honest with myself, it was really not my best self.
We had been spending the long weekend camping along the coast, mostly at the beaches. And most of that time the weather had drizzled, rained and soaked us. It was glorious. And the best part was how empty everything was because no one in their right mind comes out in these kinds of conditions.
On our third day, we took a drive up the long road to the Hoh Rainforest and visitor center. I had driven along Highway 101 multiple times but I don’t remember ever turning off and driving into the Hoh, although it may have happened when I was a kid and I don’t recall.
After passing the sign for the park, stopping and watching a bald eagle sit on a fresh catch in the the Hoh River and slowing down for those people getting out to take pictures of elk just a few feet away along side the road, we made it to the large parking lot and the end of the road.
I’ll admit, by the time my husband and I were getting out the car, we were both muttering about those darn “tourists” and I told him the statistic about how 97% of national park visitors never leave pavement. That was most certainly not us.
We only became more uppity in the visitor’s center where signs about how you weren’t supposed to get so close to the elk were plastered everywhere, didn’t you know they can charge at you? And a woman came in and asked the ranger behind the counter in broken English, repeating herself several times until the ranger understood her question, “When is the best season for visiting here?” I muttered under my breath, “Now, because there are less tourists.” Didn’t she appreciate all the beauty that was around her right now? Did it have to be sunny or have more leaves on the trees?
There are three options for hiking from this parking lot, two short loop trails and one long one that takes you miles into the heart of the rainforest. I had wanted to come in and get a taste of what was here, so we only did the two loop trails. I was telling myself I was only “playing tourist”, I was planning to come back and backpack. I was different than everyone around me, I was one of the 3%. I was a real hiker.
The Hall of Mosses was stunning and the sun made a brief appearance to brighten the greenery draping elegantly on the branches as we walked along. Then, we sauntered over to the Spruce Trail to visit the Hoh River hoping to spot another eagle soaring in the air looking for dinner.
We had the trail to ourselves for the first half of the loop but on the return, we played leapfrog with another couple.
They were decked out in matching bright yellow rain-suits with the distinct creases of packaging that I imagined they had just picked up in Forks at the hardware store. Clearly, they were not from around here. They must be tourists. There was even one point when the gal shrieked as she slipped on a wet step (her partner caught her well) and I thought to myself, “Yeah, its slippery out here. Watch your step.” And not in a kind way.
As we passed them and they passed us, I could hear them talking and laughing as if in their own little world. I found myself slowly becoming just a bit jealous. What a good time they seemed to be having, almost like they were in an amusement park. At one point, they actually began singing! I didn’t understand a word but I recognized joy when I heard it.
By the time we were back in the parking lot, I found myself carrying the burden of humility. I was so full of myself and thinking about how much more I surely appreciated the forest I was walking in when clearly I was not experiencing it as fully as this young couple was. I had to stop and take inventory of my poor attitude.
I know that I am not alone in these thoughts, we see them all the time in forums and on social media. Those darn tourists. Turns out, maybe the tourists will end up being the better stewards and champions of our public lands, especially if they are finding it like this young couple. I may love my public lands, but they were enamored.
Maybe we could use a few more tourists on public lands…
This post was written in one hour for the #naturewritingchallenge. Check out Twitter to learn more or see my other posts from the challenge here.
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