We went on an adventure. A quick two night camping trip to Orcas Island in the Saun Jaun's. This is part two.
The night was cool, the frogs loud. I woke four more times than usual and fell asleep to the sound of tarp rustling, as it had all night long. The campsite looked the same when I emerged from the tent the next morning, bundled four layers thick. The room-temperature butter was hard and food was cold as soon as it came off the grill.
The trail curls long and slow around soft bends, like wisps of steam on warm cocoa. The forest is old and pocketed with trees covered in rough deep cut bark, dressed like armour. Small saplings grow wherever their roots take hold, pining for the sporatic rays of sunlight. An old tree with the girth of several hundred years lays decomposing on the ground. It's once straight trunk, now warped and worn rolls with the motion of the hill. Hundreds of plants take life from the 175 years we count.
Wild roses with thin thorns grow in small clusters, lining the path with tiny pink flowers, their five petal blossoms flutter in the wind. Petit white flowers cover the steep hillsides tumbling over the path, stately purple hollyhocks stand tall where the landscape levels momentarily. A small deer with a freckled hind lopes through the bush, scared.
The water is crystal clear in Mountain Lake. Below the surface lays another world, an underwater forest. Trout swim through black limbless trees, can they see me looking?
Wet towels tugs at the clothespins, the wind snaps at my neck. Our lunch was eaten quickly before our ascent. We drove to the top of Mount Constitution where the boasted views stretched in the far distance to Canada, "flat and boring" one gent called it. Some islands curved like soft blue brush strokes on canvas, others seemed to dot the ocean like dripping paint. The breeze at the top of the mount were like no other, the heady scent of woods and ocean that only the freshest air can have. Air that fills your heart with exhilaration just to be alive. I drank it in.
It was a town consumed by flowers. Thick bushes of chamomile and intoxicating speckled roses hung about to woo my eye. Children with green cammo scarves adorning their heads laughed and hurried about brushing daisies in their step, deep in the throws of a scavenger hunt. The shop door hung open, purple hydrangeas fell over the fence inviting us inside. The air was gay and the sun shone down at last, leaving the town with a bright cottage-y impression.
Trip Details:
-We ate breakfast in Bellingham the first morning at Harris Avenue Cafe. It was stellar, a must visit for the breakfast crowd.
-We drove down Chuckanut Drive, with a stop at Taylor Shellfish Farm, for our dinner that evening. It was a splendid drive.
-We stayed at Moran State Park, in the Mountain Lake campground.
-The walk/hike (not a hike at all) was the Mountain Lake Loop.
-The ferry was the Anacortes-Orcas Island route
-On our way home we had pizza at La Fiamma, we had a fantastic dinner. Super love!
The night was cool, the frogs loud. I woke four more times than usual and fell asleep to the sound of tarp rustling, as it had all night long. The campsite looked the same when I emerged from the tent the next morning, bundled four layers thick. The room-temperature butter was hard and food was cold as soon as it came off the grill.
The trail curls long and slow around soft bends, like wisps of steam on warm cocoa. The forest is old and pocketed with trees covered in rough deep cut bark, dressed like armour. Small saplings grow wherever their roots take hold, pining for the sporatic rays of sunlight. An old tree with the girth of several hundred years lays decomposing on the ground. It's once straight trunk, now warped and worn rolls with the motion of the hill. Hundreds of plants take life from the 175 years we count.
Wild roses with thin thorns grow in small clusters, lining the path with tiny pink flowers, their five petal blossoms flutter in the wind. Petit white flowers cover the steep hillsides tumbling over the path, stately purple hollyhocks stand tall where the landscape levels momentarily. A small deer with a freckled hind lopes through the bush, scared.
The water is crystal clear in Mountain Lake. Below the surface lays another world, an underwater forest. Trout swim through black limbless trees, can they see me looking?
Wet towels tugs at the clothespins, the wind snaps at my neck. Our lunch was eaten quickly before our ascent. We drove to the top of Mount Constitution where the boasted views stretched in the far distance to Canada, "flat and boring" one gent called it. Some islands curved like soft blue brush strokes on canvas, others seemed to dot the ocean like dripping paint. The breeze at the top of the mount were like no other, the heady scent of woods and ocean that only the freshest air can have. Air that fills your heart with exhilaration just to be alive. I drank it in.
It was a town consumed by flowers. Thick bushes of chamomile and intoxicating speckled roses hung about to woo my eye. Children with green cammo scarves adorning their heads laughed and hurried about brushing daisies in their step, deep in the throws of a scavenger hunt. The shop door hung open, purple hydrangeas fell over the fence inviting us inside. The air was gay and the sun shone down at last, leaving the town with a bright cottage-y impression.
Trip Details:
-We ate breakfast in Bellingham the first morning at Harris Avenue Cafe. It was stellar, a must visit for the breakfast crowd.
-We drove down Chuckanut Drive, with a stop at Taylor Shellfish Farm, for our dinner that evening. It was a splendid drive.
-We stayed at Moran State Park, in the Mountain Lake campground.
-The walk/hike (not a hike at all) was the Mountain Lake Loop.
-The ferry was the Anacortes-Orcas Island route
-On our way home we had pizza at La Fiamma, we had a fantastic dinner. Super love!
Thanks for reading us your story. Your creativity and literary talents shine again. Thanks for the adventure! -Love mom
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