Where the land meets the raw, rugged sea, a valley opens up to embrace it as the river that runs down its spine empties its load of ground rock dust carried from the glaciers high above, the slate-blue waters of the Ho River mixing with the cold, gray blue of the ocean in a froth of foam and fury. Stretching a long finger eastward, the river valley beckons the mighty Pacific to share its bounty and it obliges mightily, sending wave after wave of sodden air rolling up its length. The coursing mass of moisture piles up against the Olympic peaks, which rise abruptly nearly 8000' above the surrounding lowlands, forcing the air to wring itself dry by raining down on the valley in overwhelming amounts. With so much lifeblood coursing down and temperatures tempered by the nearby nourishing ocean, the valley responds by blooming with a copiousness not often seen, yielding a profusion that so overwhelms that the bounty not only fills the confines of the valley, so that nary a bare spot can be found, but it then soars into the sky, with trees growing so large and tall as to dwarf their brethren found elsewhere and to boggle the imagination. This is the Ho Rain Forest.

I awaken about 8 this morning after staying up to 1 am, having become thoroughly engrossed in the novel I was reading (I finished it). I lay about in "bed" for a while, waiting for the sun to saunter up and over the trees. Finally, rays of the morning sun start filtering through the needled boughs and invite me to come join them in another gorgeous day unsullied by the blot of clouds (as is the norm). I oblige.

So up I get. I get all scrubbed and packed, and decide to start my day right with a couple of bowls of cereal - Rice Chex (my favorite). Whilst eating, I am joined by a pretty pair of gray and white birds - species unknown - who give me bent head, quizzical looks. "Sorry guys. No food from me." Seeing that I am not an easy mark they fly off; perhaps to the next camp site.

I drive over to the Visitor Center, park, and gather my "gear" for the today's trek - up the Ho River Trail. I was told yesterday that there is a waterfall about 3 miles in, thus my destination for today. Loaded up, I set off across the footbridge and onto the trail. The way is flat and should remain mostly so. Consequently, this will be an easy hike today. Immediately, I am embraced by the cool stillness of the forest. I am alone with my thoughts as I walk and gaze about. It is calm. It is peaceful. It is quiet, save for the occasional call from high in the treetops. In fact it is so quiet, that often the loudest sound is the clash and clatter of the leaves releasing their summer hold, as they tumble down through the many branches spanning the spaces above in a networked lattice of beefy boughs draped in all manners of feathery mosses - autumn is taking hold as summer takes its leave.

I look ahead of me. The surrounding forest is so grown and overgrown that the path looks as if it is in nothing more than a hole cut through the forest. It beckons me to enter farther and I gladly accept. I feel as if I'm in some sort of enchanted place. I wouldn't be surprised to see Bilbo Baggins himself coming around the next turn, or to hear the strains of, "Hi ho. Hi ho..." off in the distance somewhere. Magical!

Though nominally smooth and level, I need to watch my step as I walk lest the many roots reaching out everywhere in a gnarled and snarled tangle for sustenance and support, "grab" a foot and send me sprawling into the dark, earthy soil. I am in nothing less than a jungle. Were it not for the path having already been hewn through the growth, the way would be, if not treacherous, at least excruciatingly slow. I am thankful for the hard labors done to ease my journey today.

I pass a miniature forest, a forest of ferns, where the open spaces underneath the trees have been filled in, like all "open" spaces are. Ferns with long, wavy fronds arching up from the ground in every direction. I see trees draped with mosses, not just their branches, but also their trunks. Some are so covered that they look as if they're wearing a fuzzy, green warm-up suit. Ferns seem to just sprout from the sides of some trees - more than 30 feet above my head! White mushrooms can be seen, many growing on fallen logs. Others grow from the sides of live trees, looking like sconces that might light your way at night. The sun breaks through the canopy here and there, turning the cool, dark greens of the  sheltered forest into vibrant, bright greens that almost seem to sparkle as the gentle breezes brush by.

I come to mile marker 0.9 and a path leads off to the right. Towards the river I suppose, so I break stride and head that way. I pass through a stand of skinny saplings with birch-like bark and a small grassy area where a fire pit has been set up from someone's previous visit. I break out into the open overlooking the wide, gravel strewn bed of the Ho River, which now meanders from side to side within its span, as the late summer water flow is much less than the spring torrent. I walk out for a better view and some pictures, the rocks and gravel clinking under my feet as I pass over them. Looking back towards the bank I see a few trees, maples I suppose, that have already started to don their fall suit of red. I go over and take a few shots. Shooting from underneath, with the sunlight shining translucently through and set against the bright blue sky, it makes the leaves seem to glow. I hope they turn out half as good as my eyes see them today.

Back on the path towards the falls, I glance down at the camera to see how many shots are left on this roll. I'm figuring I should just about be done. "Two!" I look again, "Two?! How can there only be two shots taken?!?" I fear that my camera is broken, "Damn!" Then I think of something and look at the other controls. Sure enough, the camera is set to multiple-exposures. "Rats!" When I first started out I stopped and took a long exposure of the stream I was crossing over, and to do that I put the camera down on the bridge rail and set it to shoot in timer mode so that my unsteady hands won't cause the picture to come out blurry. Taking it off timer mode I overshot and ended up on multiple-exposure by mistake. So now I have 20 or more pictures all on the same frame. Well that should turn out great. Not!

Oh well. Since I'm so close to about 8 pictures that were supposed to already "be in there", I hurry back to reshoot. Se la vive! (Did I spell that right?) I am able to redo all but one of the pictures which was of a big old black slug. I look for it again on the path as I walk back to the main trail, but I do not see it. "I didn't think slugs could move so fast." Then I look again and, "Did you know that slugs have bright yellow guts?" Ooops! My bad! Sorry!

At one spot where I stand aside to let two other returning hikers pass, the quiet is broken by a harsh, chattering sound. Looking around I finally spot a squirrel undulating up a nearby tree. He doesn't stop scolding us until we are all well away from his home. Sorry again!

Now the trail starts getting a little steeper and goes up and down. Not too bad though. Still pretty easy. It comes right up to the river for a stretch which lends a cheerful sound to help me along on my hike. And then I hear other watery sounds on my left. Is it the falls? I spy a bridge and when I step upon it I can see a cool, dark stream cascading down the hillside. I guess this is the waterfall because I know it's been about 3 miles already. Fortunately for me, the bridge makes a very nice and stable stand to place my camera on as the proper exposure in this place devoid of any sunlight is 4 seconds. I take 2 pictures and if they turn out well, as I always hope, the long exposure will result in the waterfall coming out as a cottony cascade down the slick, black rocks. Could be good!

I go a bit farther just to see what's to see and after crossing another, this time single passage, bridge, I follow a faint trail that heads off into the brush and towards the sound of running waters. I hop over a few logs and step under a few low-hanging branches, and come out upon a sun-dappled stream tumbling over a few rocks; a mini-falls. Cool! I shuck my gear, take a drink of water, and set sown for a while to relax and enjoy. And of course I take some shots. After recouping a bit, I gather everything together and start the march back. The return is just as enjoyable, but as is the usual, quicker too. Coming out of the forest at the Visitor Center once again, I head to the car for a change of socks and shirt and of course, a cool and refreshing Coke.

Savoring the day's hike in my mind I head out back to US 101, which I take south back towards Aberdeen. It doesn't take me long to get down there, and while driving slowly through the town (25 mph), I see a street festooned with American flags being flown at half-staff and reality sneaks back in. After gassing up and replenishing the ice in the coolers, I decide to put a few more miles on the truck today by heading down to Astoria, just over the Columbia River in Oregon.

It's soon dusk and I'm thinking, "Well, I don't see any 'Deer Crossing' signs so maybe I don't have to worry about 'em." And then I see a deer by the roadside, and a little farther, 2 more. And then some more. I figure I saw over a dozen deer as I drove the last leg into Astoria. That's one of the problems with driving at night. If you're in deer country it's kind of nerve-wracking. (Fortunately, I am blessed with steel.) That plus all the bugs that come out in late afternoon and at night. By the time I get to Astoria, my hands are stiff from gripping the steering wheel so hard - in case I have to take evasive maneuvers - and the windshield is just covered, and I mean covered, with bug splat. Yuck!

But I do make it ok and I find a room for less than $50, so I am happy. I get in about 9 pm so I have a little time to kick back and relax before beddy bye. Tomorrow, well, maybe down the Oregon Coast. We'll have to see how cooperative Mr. Weather is.

Sleep well!