8/19/12 -- Leaving Lyre River and Beyond

Lazy at Lyre River

We had thought to take a day trip on Tuesday but decided to spend a quiet day in camp instead.  The river was so beautiful and sang to us so sweetly.

Lyre River - "Singing Waters"

We enjoyed a quiet morning.  I read books on my Tablet and Adina meditated like crazy.  We also spent a couple of hours visiting with each other.  The DNR Rangers brought us a huge pile of wood as you can see in this picture.  Doesn’t it look inviting?  Drichab-Anna, that spot behind the chairs was reserved for your tent, for you and Winston.  Percy really misses him.

Sweet Campsite

That afternoon, Adina baked a pear-upside-down cake.  I’d never had an upside-down cake made with pears before.  Adina said that she hadn’t either, but it sounded interesting and besides, we had the pears on hand.  She put it together in our little cast iron Dutch oven and set it on the stones I’d put in a circle.  She shoveled coals under the cake and on top of the lid. 



Laying hot coals on the lid of the Dutch oven (left foreground)

As it baked, she checked the temperature of the cake.  I still say, that’s pure magic.  She knows when the Dutch oven is at 350 degrees and she keeps it there by regulating the amount of coals on the lid. 



Testing the temperature of the Dutch Oven

When I told the DNR Ranger that she was baking a cake in the fire, both of his bushy eyebrows shot up and he said, “Now there’s a lost art, for sure.”  When it comes to baking campfire cakes, Adina is an artist!

We cooked dinner in the fire, called pocket meals.  This is one of my favorite camping meals.  You take all kinds of vegetables, throw in some ground meat and whatever seasons strike your fancy.  Then you wrap the whole mess in tin foil, lay it on the coals of the campfire and let it cook.  Oh, man!  Then we had the pear-upside-down cake for dinner dessert.  It was delicious!

Interuppted!

We were just settled down for a nice evening by the fire when six teenagers pulled into the adjacent site in a battered pickup.  We were a little concerned at first but they introduced us to their two dogs, Hazel and Pepper, and we talked about dogs. 

They seemed like nice kids.  I think they were.  There were six fellows and a girl.  They set up a couple of dome tents, unloaded and stacked a good amount of firewood and started a campfire.  They laughed and joked and were having a good time.  The kids got along well and were obviously good friends. 

They kept their music pretty low.   It was nice enough music so it wasn’t offensive in that way but we’d rather not hear anybody's music while we are camping.   We were camped by the river that the Native people called “singing waters.”   We felt like that was music enough.

 

Then they brought out their guns and started to fire them. 

We are very nervous about people shooting guns in the campsite adjacent to ours.  Or anyplace else in camp.  They were pretty good about using them, pointing them across the creek or where there were no campsites, only forest.  That didn't help any animals that got in their way. 

And you aren’t supposed to use firearms at all in DNR camps, state or national parks. 

We were worried.

About dark, they broke out a couple of cases of beer.  They stayed quiet at first but got louder and louder as the evening progressed.  By the time they settled down at midnight, a couple of the guys who had been best buddies earlier were shouting, swearing and fighting.  The other kids were shouting and swearing at them because they were fighting. 

I don't have anything against a social drink for those who can handle it but not when it gets out of hand like that. 

It was not a restful night.  We have been fortunate that this is the first time the whole trip that we have encountered something like this.  The kids got up at 7 am and drove off by 8, taking one of their two tents with them.  We wondered if they had gone to school.

During breakfast we agreed that we didn’t want another night like that.  Adina organized the inside of the trailer for travel and I loaded the wood and outside gear, then hitched up the trailer.  During this process, the DNR Ranger stopped by.  He was surprised that we were leaving since we’d signed up for several more days.

When we told him what had happened, he was very angry.  He could see that they had trashed the site and left a target on one of the trees.  It was evident where one of the guys had thrown up repeatedly. 

The Rangers found ammunition from the guns on the ground, even right next to our car.  We were relieved that no damage came to our car or trailer. 

According to the Ranger, that this would never have happened if they still had a campground host there.  Probably true.  They had just lost the campground host who had been there all summer.  The guy left early to accept a job in California.  Good for him, sad for the rest of us. 

The Ranger wrote out an “Order to Vacate” and left it for the kids, assuring us that Rangers would be back to check on things.  Then he gave us more wood, even loaded it into our car.  We gave him a description of the pickup and he headed off to check the high school parking lot to see if he could find it.

It’s really too bad.  Last night, every site in camp was full.  This morning when we left, every other camper had left too.  Those kids spoiled a beautiful camp for a lot of campers.  People just don't realize.

So this morning, we decided to head west – all the way west.  We drove along the north edge of the Olympic Peninsula on a winding, twisting road that followed the line of the coast.  The speed limit was 50 mph, however most of the time, the signs said, “Curves ahead for the next 2 miles, 30 mph.”  Sometimes the speed for these curves was 20 mph and a few times it was 15 mph. 

We took these signs very seriously, remembering the lessons we learned when we lived here before.  It took several hours to drive through Pysht (pronounced “pisht”), Seiku (“see’kew”) to Neah Bay (“Nee’ah”). 

Neah Bay

Neah Bay is on the Makah Indian reservation (Ma kaa').  An archeological dig at Ozette has yielded a treasure-house of Makah history, now housed at the Makah Indian Museum here in Neah Bay.  

Totem at the Entrance to the Makah Indian Museum

Walking through those displays this afternoon was a moving experience. 

This tribe has found artifacts that show that they have lived in this area for 4000 years.  They were part of a trading network that stretched from Alaska to southern California and as far inland as the east side of the Rocky Mountains. 

 

Their story is a common one.  Europeans wanted the tribal lands and so they took them, making and breaking treaties as they went.  They believed that it was their destiny to bring civilization to the Native people so they forced the the people to bring their children to be educated (in English) in schools that would "fit them for society." 

 

They forbade the people to practice their traditional cultural ceremonies, forbade potlatches since they believed that they undermined capitalism, forbade any of them to speak their Makah language.  Now the people are re-learning these elements of their heritage, a heritage that is respected. 

Traditional Makah carved mask
(public domain picture)

Their artisans were and are master carvers. They made folded cedar boxes, beautiful baskets and elaborate masks like the one on the left.  They wore these mask/hats for their ceremonies and dances. 

 

So back in the late 1800's and early 1900's, the government tried to civilize the Makah. 

 

At first, the US government brought an agricultural specialist in to teach them how to be farmers.  That plan had to be scrapped when the agriculturalist discovered that the climate was too cold for farming.  Besides, the soil was poor and they didn't have enough sunny days to produce any crop but a poor grade of potatoes.

 

They the government decided that the Makah should become a fisher people.  This was really silly since the Makah had been harvesting the Pacific Ocean waters for centuries.  They were fishing with gill nets long before Europeans introduced them.  They were expert navigators and took their canoes as far as 40 miles into the ocean to hunt for whales.  That’s right, whales.  

 

Their 20 ft. cedar canoes held 8 men, each of whom went through rigorous physical and spiritual training to do one of the whaling tasks.  For example, only a member of the chieftain’s family could throw the harpoon.

 

The Makah never took whales unless the people needed them.  When a whale was brought to shore, the elders led the people in prayers, thanking the whale for giving itself up to their needs.  They used every part of the whale.  The bones held up their houses and provided a sophisticated system of drainage ditches.  The blubber made important oils.  People ate the meat. 



Photo of the Makah with a whale they took (public domain photo, 1910)

Then the whales began to disappear.  The primary offenders were European whalers who over-fished the Pacific Ocean, not only in taking whales but in taking sea life of all kinds.  The US government had a treaty with the Makah that allowed them to take the whales the people needed.  When the government put a moratorium on all whaling, they insisted that the Makah people be included. 

The Makah spent huge amounts of money to hire lawyers and take the US government to court.  In 1999 they won the right to take a whale.  One whale. 

The commercial fishing industry had a powerful lobby and aroused much protest to this event.  As a result, the government allowed a restraining order on the Makah while the issue was studied. 

The issue is still aparently being studied.  The Makah are still waiting for the right to take one more whale. 

It seems to me that there is something wrong with this picture when some countries are sending out floating factories to kill and process whales and the Makah are not allowed to take one whale a year.  Or ever.  My opinion, folks.

Today, according to the fellow at the Museum, the Makah who fish the seas are limited by government regulations in all fishing, limiting them to a few hours each year instead of many months.  Many of the elders have died.  Middle aged Makah have moved away.  Many young people have left to find work.  Fewer than half the Makah people live on traditional tribal lands. 

Still, there is life here.  People are working to teach their children about their heritage.  The Museum is trying to educate tourists about their culture.  Some men have learned the ancient arts of carving.  Some women are learning to weave baskets in the traditional way.  Children and adults are learning their ancestral language. 

We visited Neah Bay twenty years ago and it was a pretty depressed area then.  Now we both thought the town was more lively. 

Beyond Neah Bay

We picked up some supplies in Neah Bay including a stop at The Take Home Fish Company, a little hole-in-the-wall where the owners smoke their own fish.  One light bulb gave the room poor light.  We watched them process the day’s catch, we bought some smoked salmon about as fresh as it comes, smoked by people who really know how to do it. 



The Take Home Fish Company in Neah Bay (from an unnamed website, public domain)

We Have Reached the Pacific Ocean!

About 3 miles beyond Neah Bay, we found the Ho-Buk RV park and campground where we are camped tonight.  As we rolled into camp, the fog began to roll over us.  We have truly reached the West Coast at last. 
 


The fog rolls towards us

We bundled up and took a walk on the beach even before we got the trailer set up.  It was so exciting to be by the Pacific Ocean again. 

One fellow was out surfing, wearing a wet-suit against the biting cold of the water.  The waves were at least 6-footers today.  He wasn't very skillful at surfing but least he was out there trying.



Surfer in wet suit breasting the waves of the Pacific Ocean
If that wave looks like a wall of water, it was.

On our walk, we could see Cape Flattery, the most northern, most western point in the contiguous United States.  The next land to the west is Japan.  The next land to the north is Canada.

It was pretty foggy all the way here, and the fog only lifted for a couple of hours.  In this picture, you can see the bottom of Cape Flattery in the distance, crashing waves and a sea of sea gulls.



Cape Flattery (the top is lost in fog), wild waves and a sea of sea gulls

I couldn't believe how close the sea gulls let us come.  As I approached, most of them sauntered off, not very concerned at all.  One gull took off and I caught him in mid-air!  We may have to frame this one!



Sea gull in flight

We love the ocean, its beauty and its power.  Tonight, in honor of our ocean home-coming, I wrote this poem.

Ocean

some say that humans
came from the sea
Native people call the sea
Grandmother Ocean

That feels right
Her power is challenging
enticing, enchanting
welcoming

I feel that power
pounding
through my feet
into my bones

halts me mid-stride
like an electric current
energizes me
like a wind-up bunny

fascinates me like a candle
beckoning a moth
my heart beats the rhythm
of her waves

After our walk, we set up our folding chairs and little table in the lee of the trailer and feasted on left-over yams and the smoked salmon we bought today.  We love smoked salmon anyway, and tonight, it never tasted so good.  We topped our meal off with pear-upside-down cake.  

Wild waves in the fog - 4 pm in the afternoon
Does it look cold?  It is, but what a great feeling!
This is the view from our campsite!

We have always thought that it was romantic to sit by the ocean, bundled up against the damp cold, sharing a simple meal, listening to the waves.  Tonight we discovered that it still is.  Uh-huh!

Now as I write, I hear the surf pounding the shore.  We are cozy in our trailer, listening to the thundering waves of the Pacific Ocean. Aah!  After all the beauty and wonder we have seen on our trip, we get this too?  How fortunate we are!

Tomorrow we will begin following the coast south.  We’ll go along the Olympic National Park and – well, that’s for the next blog. 

Stay tuned!