Journeys: Pacific Coast - Highway 101

     I was in the trailhead parking lot for Falcon Cove, OR when a surfer pulled up beside me. I thought it was a chilly morning and wondered how cold he would be in the water. The surfer said it was not too bad and totally worth it. I hiked a short way down to the beach and found more surfers. I studied the beach for a while then decided to hike two miles or so north to Falcon Point.

     The hike was mucky. I bushwhacked down a drainage in search of a waterfall, but turned back when the vegetation became too dense. At Falcon Point I enjoyed sitting atop sea cliffs and watching the waves crash. Sea gulls swooped overhead. On my return to Falcon Cove I came upon a small waterfall down a side trail. I took a few photos there then followed the drainage until it cliffed out just above the beach. There was another waterfall crashing down to the beach's tide pools from the cliff I was standing on and I decided to take a photo of it from the beach.

Waterfall above Falcon Cove, OR.

Waterfall spilling into Falcon Cove tide pools.

     I got the waterfall photo from the beach then returned to my truck. I drove a mile or two up the road to where there was an overlook looking down on Manzanita, OR. It was a great view and I stopped to have lunch and relax from the morning's hike. While lounging, an older gentleman called out, "Whale!" from the edge of the overlook. I dashed to the stone retaining wall. Sure enough, there was a whale and her calf surfacing for air. Then they sank back into the dark sea and continued north along the coast. I packed up and continued south to Tillamook. I saw on the map that there was a lighthouse at Cape Meares State Park and thought it might make a nice photo.

     The view at Cape Meares was great, but the lighthouse was small and there were no good angles for a photo. I was content to stroll around and look down upon Three Arch Rocks National Wildlife Refuge where seals, sea lions, and tuffins hung out. I drove further south to Oceanside, OR and had a short stroll on the beach. It was late afternoon and I decided my time on the coast was up and I would head for Portland to visit a friend.

     Once in Portland and connected to the internet, I discovered I only had enough gas money to drive straight to Bozeman. I did just that two days later ending my trip to the Pacific Coast and Highway 101.

Journeys: Pacific Coast - Highway 101

     It was morning and I was on the road again, finished with the beaches at La Push and Mora. Gray storm clouds were scattered along the coast, some were raining others were threatening. I thought it might be a poor day for landscape photography and was fortunate to find tide pools thriving with wildlife at Ruby Beach. I hiked around in search of the most interesting cluster of green sea anenome and ochre starfish. A dark cloud moved in and it started to rain. I returned to my truck and drove further south. I made a quick stop at Big Cedar, literally a giant cedar tree. It looked as if four massive cedar trees had grown out of one stump. There was an arched opening at the base of the tree and three or four people could have easily used it for shelter. My next stop was First Beach of Kalaloch, WA. First Beach was wide and sandy and stretched north past Kalaloch all the way to Ruby Beach. I hiked from First Beach to Kalaloch Rocks and back to my truck. I took one photo of a washed up rope that wonderfully contrasted the sand and the sky.

Tide pool marine life at Ruby Beach, WA.

Washed up rope at Kalaloch Beach, WA.

     I had no plans of further stops on the Washington coast as I drove south to Oregon. After leaving the Olympic Peninsula the vegetation thinned and I could more often see from the road the flat sand beaches stretching for miles and miles. I stopped on the north side of Gray's Harbor to stretch my legs and walked out a long jetty to photograph waves crashing. These were my last photos in Washington. Soon I was in Astoria, OR in desperate need of a beach to watch the sunset. I stopped in at a gas station and asked the attendant for advice. She recommended Canon Beach a few miles further south. There I could find Haystack Rock and other sea stacks. The golden hour was upon the landscape and I was frantically searching for parking at Canon Beach. Haystack Rock and its smaller sea stacks were excellent scenery and I now know that the rock is a well known place to take photos. The sun was setting and once again I was running to get to a good spot in time. I posted up near a Korean man from Hawaii and his wife who were also taking photos of the sunset. We talked of there vacation and my road trip. The sunset was finished and I returned to my truck to cook another tailgate dinner. I had no idea where I would sleep...again. Eventually I found a wide spot on Highway 101 without any "No Camping" signs.

Canon Beach, OR sunset.

Journeys: Pacific Coast - Highway 101

     It rained during the night. I slept extremely well for the first time in two nights and decided to sleep in as long as possible. I had breakfast and was back at Rialto Beach by 10:30 a.m. I was looking forward to the day's hike and set off. I had the idea to hike to the Chilean Memorial near Cape Johnson where the map indicated there might be a nice cove. About a mile into the hike I came across a headland and a feature named Hole in the Wall. The Hole in the Wall was not so much a hole, but a window through the cliffed out headland looking upon the ocean. It struck me as a piece of natural beauty and thought it would glow nicely in the evening sun. Shortly after Hole in the Wall the hiking changed from sandy beach to headland rock scampering. I came across an older man resting on a rock. He had a Nikon camera and was wearing a silver watch. I asked him how his day was and what he thought about the cove that I was destined for. He recommended a point just south of the cove where he enjoyed taking photos of mussel and kelp beds. I looked out to the ocean and only saw a small island with two miniature mountain peaks connected by a saddle. Where was the point? Oh, the island was the point. The point was connected to the beach by a line of rocks accessible when the tide was out. It was 2:00 p.m. The tide was due in at 4:30 p.m. I debated my odds of being stranded with the old man. He thought I would surely and unfortunately be stranded. I agreed, but replied that it was all part of the adventure then set off directly for the point.
     I reached the rocks leading to the point and began hopscotching my way out. I was standing on a rock halfway to the point when I stopped to take a look around. Lapping water broke my wandering thoughts and I realized that the tide was coming and the passage to the point was closing. Exciting! I  leapt from rock to rock reaching the point in time to turn around and watch my exit disappear under water. It was 2:20p.m. The tide would be highest at 4:30p.m. I wondered how long I would be stranded on the now island, but pushed those thoughts aside and started exploring. I scrambled 50 yards up the steep saddle linking the two miniature mountain peaks. The slippery rocky slope rewarded me with one of my favorite views and photos of the entire road trip.

View from the island/point.

     I lounged in the saddle laying in the grass enjoying the view. It was rather windy in the saddle and soon I was cold. I down climbed to the rock and sand beach lining the perimeter of the island and walked to the west side of the island. There were a few small rock pinnacles and I had some fun killing time and climbing to the top of each one. At the top of the highest pinnacle I sat and watched a small boat bobbing in the waves out past the furthest sea stacks. The waves were so big that each time the boat was in a trough it would vanish from sight! I traversed out a band of rocks away from the island as far as I dared and took photos of crashing waves. I was hungry and clambered up the side of the island to a sheltered spot and had lunch. After lunch I returned to the east side of the island and took a nap on a rock. When I woke it was 6:00 p.m. and the island was starting to block the sun. It became quite cold. My exit was still completely covered in water. I returned to the saddle and sat in the sun trying to stay warm. The wind in the saddle drove me away again and I returned to the beach and stood by the closed exit jumping up and down to stay warm. I could see the tops of rocks re-emerge from the water as the tide slowly went out. It was like watching paint dry. Around 7:30 p.m. I took my chances and started skipping across rocks just poking out of the water. I was 50 yards out when the water surged recovering my escape. Water spilled into my boots and I was immediately soaked. Frustrated I looked at my feet and cursed the ocean. When I looked up again still standing in ankle deep water I saw a sea otter swimming on his back staring back at me. Was that rock on his belly? Seeing the otter lifted my spirits. The surged went out and I hopped my way back to the mainland.
     The sun was sinking and the golden hour was fast approaching. I was far from Hole in the Wall and started to run. I ran all the way to Hole in the Wall and good thing too for I made it just in time. I took photos as the sun glowed on the rock making quite an image. Surprisingly exhausted from laying around on an island for five hours I made it back to my truck and returned to my random trailhead parking lot for the night.

Hole in the Wall catches the evening sun.

HDR sunset near Rialto Beach, WA.

Journeys: Pacific Coast - Highway 101

     I jerked awake. Pale morning light was just illuminating the trees around my truck. I turned the key and fired up the engine breaking the silence of the dense forest around me. It was four miles of winding dirt road to the top of Mount Walker on the eastern edge of the Olympic Peninsula. I was searching for a good angle for a sunrise photograph. The summit of Mount Walker had two lookouts. Neither provided the view that I needed for the sunrise. Disappointed I quickly and recklessly drove down the mountain and south on Highway 101. I found a pull out by the water of Dabob Bay and took a few photos of the sunrise. Not the sunrise over a distant Seattle I wanted, but it was still beautiful to watch the sun wake the world up.

Sunrise over Dabob Bay, WA.

     Today I would start the meat and potatoes of the road trip, driving Highway 101. From Mount Walker I would drive along the north coast to Neah Bay. From Neah Bay I would turn south and search for scenery on the west coast. I had grown accustomed to the sweeping valleys and mountain ranges of Montana and was hampered by the dense vegetation that choked either side of the highway as I drove along. The occasional clear cut would provide the narrowest of vistas. The first town of note I came to was Port Angeles. I had this vision in my head that I would be hopping from quaint fishing town to quaint fishing town, each perched on a cliffy cove overlooking the crashing sea. Towns peppered with pastel houses clustered on rocks and beaches where fishing boats motored back and forth. Port Angeles was not the town I sought. It was industrial and unappealing. After Port Angeles I passed a road sign for Crescent Bay and Salt Creek and decided to pull off to investigate. Crescent Bay was shaped in an appealing crescent, obviously, and there was a nice sea stack on the east side. I hiked around for a bit taking a few photographs then returned to my truck. Exhausted from poor sleep the night before I unintentionally fell asleep in the driver's seat while looking at a road map. I awoke a full two hours later. The parking lot had been empty when I arrived, but now it was full and there were many people out walking. I finally had some breakfast on my tailgate and finished looking at the road map. A man parked beside me agreed that I should head to Neah Bay.

     It was a twisting slow drive. The route actually leaves Highway 101 for 112 which brings you to Neah Bay and Cape Flattery, the westernmost point in the contiguous 48 states. As I was driving 112 overlooking the north coast I again had visions of a quaint fishing village to be found in Neah Bay. Although there were fishing boats, all docked and lazily bobbing, Neah Bay was run down. What caught my eye the most were all the handmade "don't do meth, booze, or teen pregnancy" signs tacked up on light poles. I stopped in at the Makah Tribe's museum and purchased a recreation permit so that I could visit and hike to Cape Flattery. If I had been disappointed by the lack of quaint fishing towns along the north coast Cape Flattery was the diamond in the rough. The hike was short and the view breathtaking. The cape ended at the sea in steep and dramatic cliffs with waves crashing against the rocking releasing hollow booms. My adventurous side wanted to find a way to the bottom of the sea cliffs, but I stayed on the trail and took photos from the designated view points.

Looking south from Cape Flattery.

Sea caves at Cape Flattery.

     Back in the parking lot I cooked lunch on my tailgate and planned my next move. I still was not sure of any specific destinations on the coast and decided I would drive down to Forks and find a place to ask for information. Other than being the home of the Twilight novels, Forks is just another non-quaint coastal town. They did have a grocery store and an Ace Hardware store where I stopped in to talk to one of the cashiers about the Forks area. Nathan was very helpful and pointed me to the first, second, and third, beaches of La Push and Rialto beach of Mora. It was only about one hour until the golden hour and the sunset and I decided to drive to the beaches of La Push. 

HDR sunset at First Beach, La Push, WA.

     On the way I discovered that the third and second beaches required hiking and I did not think I could make the hikes before the sunset. I drove down to first beach, which required no hiking, and parked next to an old man looking for whales with a pair of binoculars. The man suggested I hike north from Rialto Beach the following day. I tiptoed around on the jetty guarding First Beach looking for good angles. A large island and a few sea stacks just off of the beach providing a nice foreground for a Pacific sunset. A seal surfaced beside the jetty and snorted at me. The seal continued to play by the jetty and I continued to look for that magical angle. Satisfied, I returned to my truck and ate some food while preparing my gear and waiting for the sun to sink further. The sun was nearing the horizon, but had yet to really blaze the sky with color. I returned to the jetty and composed a few shots for an HDR showing the green seaweed on the rock in the foreground. I climbed back up to my tripod at the top of the jetty and bumped into another photographer. He was an older gentleman staying in a nearby RV park. We chatted and snapped photos. The sunset was gorgeous and I was starting to really like the coast despite the salty air. With the sun asleep I realized I still had no place to sleep. Skunked at Rialto Beach, which had obvious "No Camping" signage I settled for a random trailhead somewhere in further inland in Olympic National park.

Journeys: Pacific Coast - Highway 101

     Paul and the other boys of the house were up early. I found no sleepy solace on the couch in the living room. After breakfast at Betty's Diner with Paul I returned to the house to edit photos and research destinations in the Pacific Northwest. Editing went well, but research went poorly. Maybe "scenic places in Washington" or "Washington photography" were the wrong query strings to plug into Google. I left Polson bound for somewhere on the Olympic Peninsula. 

     I took the scenic route from Polson to Coure d'Alane, ID through Thompson Pass, MT. It dawned on me while I was driving up to Thompson Pass - mainly because of posted signage on the roadway - that the pass may still be snowed in and might have to backtrack 30 miles to get back to I-90. The pass was open. I was back on I-90 in eastern Washington and the landscape transformed into desolate flat farmland. Hours later I caught sight of still snowcapped Mount Rainier towering in the hazy blue sky. To north I could make out a jagged mountain range and directly in front of me was Snoqualmie Pass. Once over Snoqualmie Pass the traffic intensified and suddenly I was in Seattle. I frantically checked the map while keeping an eye on the road and somehow wound up going the right way, south to Tacoma. Night fell as I left Tacoma for Bremerton. At 10:30 p.m. I was stopped with other motorists at a drawbridge over the Hood Canal. We did not move again until 11 p.m. By the time I hit Highway 101 I was exhausted. I drove south into Olympic National Forest and pulled into a trailhead parking lot. It was after midnight. I promptly fell asleep in the driver's seat.

Journeys: Grand Teton National Park

      I woke at 5 a.m. The sky was clear and I was immediately excited to take photos. I noticed frost on the windows of my camper top. I leapt out of my sleeping bag into the cold and tapped on the window of the Europeans' car. They were awake. We wasted no starting our cars and heading to the Moulton Barn. I think we all needed the comfort of our car heaters.

We joined a few other photographers at the Moulton Barn. I could have used one more layer in the cold and wrapped a blanket around my torso before heading out to set up my tripod. I stamped my feet and waited for the sun to rise. Thomas had set up our cameras near each other and discussed composing the shot. Carsten was already off in the distance trying as many different angles as he could find. Finally the sun made its appearance casting a golden glow on the barn and the mountains. Thin blue clouds floated above the Snake River and I happily snapped away. Three minutes later Thomas was happy and we packed up. It had been three days waiting for those three minutes of perfect sunlight.

The photographically famous Moulton Barn on Mormon Row.

We drove to the Oxbow Bend and took photos of Mount Moran reflecting in the river. A bald eagle arced through my shot showing its full wingspan. I was too slow. By the time I realized what the black speck was drifting through my diopter he was gone. Thomas wanted to move to Pilgrim Creek for more photos. Once there, Thomas decided Pilgrim Creek would be better shot in early morning light. This was the end of my trip to the Tetons and my visit with Thomas and Carsten. Carsten brewed a final pot of tea and we said our goodbyes.

Mount Moran reflected in the Oxbow Bend, WY.

The route through Yellowstone was still closed and I returned to Bozeman via Teton Pass into Idaho. In Bozeman I realized I was fresh out of plans, but still had over two weeks before I had to be anywhere. A road trip was in order, but where to? I could go south to Utah, New Mexico, or Arizona. No that did not appeal to me. What about the Pacific Northwest? I had never been there. I called a friend, "Yeah, drive highway 101." he said. "You'll love it." It sounded like a good idea. I stopped at my camper and spent 30 minutes repacking my gear. It was 6 p.m. when I left Belgrade headed for Polson three and a half hours away. My timing put me in the Flathead Valley during a gorgeous sunset. The Mission Mountains glowed in the east and the Ninepipes Reservoir mirrored the brilliant sky to the west. I took a spontaneous roadside photo of the sunset over the reservoir then pushed into Polson weary from driving.

Ninepipes Reservoir, Flathead Reservation, MT

Journeys: Grand Teton National Park

     I woke at 5 a.m. to check the weather. Rain drizzled down. Awake again close to 9 a.m. the weather had calmed. We emerged from our tents and rekindled the fire. To the north a snowstorm raged over Mount Moran and we could see it was blowing our way. We stoked the fire even more and Thomas continued his bear attack dialogue. The snowstorm hit and quickly blew south of us. We decided to break camp and return to our cars. At my truck I checked the weather on my phone. It was supposed to be sunny tomorrow and remain clear for the next few days.

We decided the day was a wash. We made a plan to check out the Oxbow Bend then return to our campsite in the Bridger Teton National Forest and wait for better weather in the morning. I told Thomas of the famed Moulton Barn on Mormon row that faces east. It is a classic morning photo with the Tetons in the background and was close to our camp in the Bridger Teton. For dinner we had more beans and macaroni followed by bear attack dialogue from Thomas.

Journeys: Grand Teton National Park

     I woke suddenly at 4 a.m. because a river of snot was flowing from my nose into my mouth. I knew immediately that I was very sick. I worked my jaw and my throat was dry and throbbing with pain. I found a roll of toilet paper in a camping box and steadily blew my nose until the entire roll had been used. I stood outside my truck leaning against the bed trying to sleep vertically. Shortly after 5 a.m. dawn slowly began to illuminate the landscape. The weather over the mountains was quite poor and soon a slight drizzle started over our campsite. I knocked on the Europeans' window and informed them I had a bad head cold and was going to town to buy some medicine. Fortunately the Albertson's in Jackson was open when I got there near 7 a.m. I bought medicine then drove back into the park. I parked at the visitor's center, took my medicine, and fell into a deep slumber in the driver's seat.

It was 11 a.m. when I woke up again. I felt groggy, but the medicine was doing its job and I felt much better. I went into the visitor's center in search of water and found Thomas and Carsten planning a backcountry overnight camping trip. "Charlie! Charlie!" Thomas called out. Thomas directly divulged the details of their plan. After they finished up at the visitor's center they would drive to Leigh Lake and hike a few miles to the west side of the lake and camp. There was a waterfall nearby and Thomas wanted to take some photos since the poor weather and gray skies would not bother the shot. Thomas offered for me to join them and promised he would tell me the best story I had ever heard around the camp fire that night. I accepted.

At the trailhead Thomas and Carsten prepared and set off quickly. I lagged behind sick and groggy preparing my gear at my truck. When I finally got started I was surprised to find a good deal of snow still covering the trail. The snow pack was knee deep in places and although I had my gaiters I wished I had my snowshoes. I caught up with Thomas and Carsten just as they reached the campsite. The Europeans were wearing jeans and tennis shoes and were soaked from the knees down. Building a fire to dry shoes and clothes was top priority. Soon flames were licking awfully close to socks and jeans hung on a line over the fire pit. While Carsten and I continued to scavenge for firewood, Thomas decided to rinse off in the lake since he was already half naked. Fully naked, Thomas danced a jig in three inches of water hooting and hollering at the top of his lungs. Apparently the lake was cold. Carsten and I laughed.

The clothes were drying quickly, but Thomas decided the waterfall was too far from the campsite. Instead we would hike back to the Leigh Lake outlet that dumps into String Lake and take photos. As we reached the outlet the sky cleared just enough to reveal Teewinot Mountain and we took some photos. Next Thomas perched out on a rock in the outlet and took some more photos. We hiked back to camp for dinner and the best story I have heard in a long time. Thomas's 13 year story.

About 15 years ago Thomas Salme decided he wanted to be a pilot. He knew he could not afford to go to flight school so he gained access to an airline flight simulator and snuck in practice sessions over the course of a year. When he felt comfortable that he could safely pilot an airplane he went home and crafted a terrible fake pilot's license out of an 8 1/2 x 11 sheet of white paper. He applied to an airline and somehow they accepted his fake license. Two years later Thomas was promoted to captain of a 737. He would fly for 11 years as captain passing all concurrent training and maintaining a flawless safety record. He was finally caught in Amsterdam and arrested. He had flown unlicensed for 13 years. His punishment? Grounded for one year and fined $2,500.00. I told Thomas he would still be in jail if he had pulled that stunt in the United States. Thomas confesses that what he did was wrong, but felt he never put anyone in danger. Two years later Thomas is successfully building a photography career focused on fashion and modeling. A book about his illegal pilot's life is titled 13 Years In Heaven and will be released in Sweden at the end of May. I found it hard to believe, but Google confirmed his story. See for yourself.

Journeys: Grand Teton National Park

     After a backcountry photo shoot and a rock climbing trip did not pan out, I had a random idea to drive to Grand Teton National Park (GTNP) to see what I could see. At a friend's suggestion I took the scenic route from Bozeman to West Yellowstone by driving through Ennis, MT. The Madison River valley is sweeping and beautiful. It was a good thing that Route 287 was flat and straight or I might have totaled my truck while craning my neck at the view. I am so used to seeing the Madison Range from the east and it was so drastically different from the west with the mountains rising straight up from the valley floor. I arrived in West Yellowstone and checked in at the Yellowstone visitor's center to find out whether or not the route to GTNP through Yellowstone was open. It was not. I would have to take the long way through Idaho then over Teton Pass at Jackson, WY.

     As I approached the Tetons from the west I was disappointed because the mountains were banked in with clouds. I crossed over from Idaho to Wyoming and drove north past the National Elk Refuge. The valley was not cloaked in poor weather and I enjoyed seeing buffalo, elk, and moose grazing on the golden grasses in the preserved bottom land. I had no plan of what to do once I arrived in GTNP. I just wanted to explore. The visitor's center was closed so I drove to the only place I had read about, Lupine Meadows Trailhead. The trailhead is the starting point to climb the Grand Teton. I sat on the tailgate of my truck eating food and staring at the clouded Tetons. I wondered what it would be like to be sitting here preparing for a one day attack on the Grand. Is it exposed and scary? How drop dead exhausted would I be at the end of 24 hours of hiking and climbing? How rewarding would it be to be standing on the summit at 13,755 feet? Would I want to come down?

     The shadows were lengthening and the sun was sinking behind the mountains and the clouds. I decided I would continue driving the park road and check the views from the scenic turnouts along the way. This was a photography trip and at least I could do some recon while the weather was poor. As I pulled into the Mount Moran turnout I had no idea that fate was about to slap me in the face in the form of two European photographers visiting the United States from Italy.

     I was sitting in my truck checking the map and watching the clouds gradually clear from the summit of Mount Moran. A silver sedan pulled up near me and two men leapt out with cameras and frantically set about taking photos. One man with longer hair seemed to be "in charge" and he was barking orders at the other man. I could hear their banter from the  closed cab of my truck grinned at their Odd Couple antics. The clouds cleared to a point where I felt compelled to take some photos. I had only snapped one or two when the bossy fellow approached me and let me know he was a Swedish photographer living in Italy visiting America to take photos in support of a foundation owned by the Moratti family, which owns Inter Milan Football Club. His name was Thomas Salme. His quieter assistant was Carsten Boelter, a German photographer also living in Milan, Italy. We spoke briefly of photography then Thomas invited me to camp with them not far away in the Bridger Teton National Forest. I accepted and shortly we were making camp at the foot of Shadow Mountain.

     As night fell at our campsite Carsten cooked potatoes and beans and Thomas started a grizzly bear dialogue that he would keep up for the next three days. Where the bears awake yet? Could they attack us at a moment's notice? Could they tear a door off a car? Could they claw their way into my truck? Would bear spray really work? Was that a bear just out there in the wood line? Needless to say, Thomas kept his bear spray close at hand all through the night.