Olympic gold

We were looking for a unicorn, four young friends and I. This did not seem an unreasonable thing to do. We had found the hall where the fairies dance, the throne where the elfin queen sits. We had scurried past an old troll and had walked across a bridge of tree roots that would be the perfect place to raise baby dragons, if you were in the baby-dragon-raising business. Then we stopped in a clearing. Moss covered the trees like the robes of ancient druids, and every inch of space was occupied by something growing — on broken stumps, on the sides of trees, on fallen nurse-logs where seedlings sprouted from fragrant rot like flags in front of a palace. Even the sunlight was filtered green as if through seawater.

For a moment, no one breathed. Then, off in the underbrush, there was the sound of a twig breaking. Under the golden hoof of a unicorn, no doubt. Because we were in the Hoh Rain Forest on Washington’s Olympic Peninsula, and if unicorns exist, this is where they live.

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FOR THE RECORD:
Rain forest —An article on Olympic National Park in Sunday’s Travel section said the Olympic Peninsula includes the only rain forest in North America. The North American Coastal Temperate Rain Forest extends from Northern California to Alaska, including parts of the Olympic Peninsula.

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The peninsula is a place of many extremes. It includes the only rain forest in North America and mountains so high that snow and ice linger through August. The primeval forest at its heart is cradled by a coastline that dips between sandy beaches littered with enormous tangles of silvering driftwood and cliffs that tower over waves crashing like the wrath of Neptune. Beyond, the cold Pacific waters are full of surfers and starfish and king salmon and an endless, glorious silhouette of tiny islands and rocky outcroppings.

Cellphones don’t work here, major newspapers aren’t delivered here, and in summer, time moves differently, taking long, slow steps. Morning and afternoon can blur together as the sun burns through the seaside fog and the day stretches far into night, the sun reluctantly setting sometime after 9.

We came to the peninsula in July, our family — my husband, Richard, Danny Mac, 6, and Fiona, 4 — traveling with friends Peter, Ute, 9-year-old Leah and Emma, 4. It was a trip that almost didn’t happen. A week before our departure, Peter broke his leg. Fortunately for us, he decided that pain and inconvenience were nothing compared with the prospect of telling his daughters they would not be going on the summer trip we had been planning since winter.

Ferries, fog and an octopus

SO early one morning, the eight of us flew from Burbank to the Seattle-Tacoma airport, where we rented two cars and drove directly to Seattle. We boarded a ferry for Bainbridge Island, stopped on the charming main drag to grab some lunch, then drove through the greenery to Port Townsend. In the late 1800s, this seaport rivaled San Francisco for a time. Talk was that a rail line would connect it to Tacoma and make Port Townsend the biggest city on the West Coast. But the railroad never materialized, leaving the Victorian town small and lovely, geared now toward tourists.

We spent the first two nights in Port Angeles, about 30 miles away, because the town is right outside the entrance to Hurricane Ridge, a series of trails in the still-snowcapped Olympic Mountains, and a departure point for ferries to Victoria, in British Columbia.

On the first morning here, we headed up to Hurricane Ridge, but rain threatened, and the guard at the entrance to the park told us that clouds had covered the peaks. Rather than drive 17 miles to see fog, we went back into town.

Port Angeles is a tiny working port, with a brooding waterfront and a remarkably good, though equally tiny, Marine Life Center on the city pier. We spent almost two hours in this museum — which would fit into the ladies’ room of the Long Beach Aquarium — where a trio of knowledgeable staff members peeled back the hide of a “mermaid’s purse” to show the kids prenatal baby skates and provided rapt commentary when the octopus in residence made a dramatic appearance to engulf and eat the crab that had been sitting in its tank for days.

In nearby Sequim (pronounced “squim”), we took a trail through the tranquil woods of the Dungeness Wildlife Refuge Reserve down to the Dungeness spit, a strip of sand barely 100 yards wide that curves like a tentacle five miles into the Pacific. Here we had our first glimpse of Olympic driftwood. On every beach there is inevitably a forest of entire trees, worn smooth and pale by water and wind, stacked in crazy piles like pick-up sticks abandoned by giants. We played a rousing game of “don’t touch the ground” until the children discovered that previous visitors had built forts and shelters among the logs, and then it was pirates and Swiss Family Robinson, while the parents turned their faces into the chilly mist and contemplated the craggy coast to the left and, to the right, eternity.

Poor Peter and his leg were stuck in the car while we cavorted on the spit. So in deference to him, we visited the Olympic Game Farm, which promised car tours revealing lions and buffalo and bears. Imagining a tourist trap with one flea-bitten buffalo and a washed-out zebra, I was surprised by the size of the place and the tremendous number of amazing (and amazingly healthy) animals — herds of Roosevelt elk, dozens of bears, buffalo that licked our windows and numerous peacocks that fanned their gorgeous tails whenever a peahen came near.

Next stop: Hurricane Ridge

We had planned to go to Victoria the next day. Originally we were going to leave both cars in Port Angeles, but because of Peter’s leg we decided to take one. Alas, we did not realize how early you had to get a car to a ferry dock to ensure getting on — 15 minutes before departure was not enough. We were given prime parking for the next ferry, but this left us with one car and four hours to kill.

Rationalizing that vacation time is more valuable than money, we rented another car and drove up to Hurricane Ridge, where the clouds hung over the snowy peaks like a silken silver canopy. We had plenty of time to walk a couple of miles amid the splendid firs on the easy loops, the kids found a big patch of snow to play in, and we watched deer graze in a meadow across from the visitors’ center.

We made it back to the ferry with time to spare, and an hour and half later we were in sunny Victoria, where we spent the evening and most of the next day visiting the famed and fabulous Butchart Gardens and exploring the charming city streets.

The ferry put us back in Port Angeles close to 10 p.m., which made the 70-mile ride to our next destination — Ocean Park Resort in La Push — a dark and anxious one, because we had no idea what the place would be like, having discovered it on the Internet.

At the Quileute Reservation

THE resort is owned and operated by members of the Quileute tribe; La Push is on the Quileute Indian Reservation. Although the tribe has rented out ocean-side cabins for many years, it recently decided to try to make the resort a true source of income, adding a group of lovely new units. At $210 a night for two bedrooms, these were a bit pricey for us, so we reserved one two-bedroom cabin, which we figured would be big enough for the entire party to eat and congregate in, and one studio cabin. The studio cabin, which included a sleeping loft, turned out to be a mistake. It was not very clean, and to get to the loft, you had to ascend a ladder built into a wall, which made it too dangerous for the children.

The two-bedroom cabin was immaculate, large and comfortable, and when we woke up in the morning, we discovered that the huge picture window and front porch looked out over a tangle of wildflowers and raspberries to First Beach, which was one of the most beautiful beaches we had ever seen. We traded in the studio cabin for another, very rustic but serviceable.

“Resort” rather overstates the situation. There is a small store for groceries and sundries in the nearby RV park, as well as a rustic motel with en suite units, and new cabins that were quite lovely, but that was it as far as amenities. Not that we cared. There was a small playground down the street, and two long wooden boats being carved, and a small harbor, bristling with masts, where fresh fish was available and a restaurant if we didn’t feel like cooking.

First Beach was a destination itself (though if you tired of it, Second and Third were a short drive away and equally glorious) and was close enough that we could keep track of the kids from the porch, which meant there were times when the adults were, gasp, alone.

One day was devoted to the Hoh Rain Forest, which was about half an hour away, and Ruby Beach, which, to the children’s disappointment, was not strewn with precious gems. (I was disappointed too, having read that the sand had a pinkish cast. Maybe it would in the sun; on the misty day we visited, it was regular-looking sand, though the beach itself made up for this by being beautifully romantic, even in the company of four kids having wet-sand fights.)

On another day we explored Sol Duc Hot Springs, which is also deep in the rain forest. There is an adjacent “resort” of small cabins, but the hot-springs-fed swimming pools and hot tubs are open to the public. We discovered several masseuses on duty, so after a short trek through a sylvan meadow, the fathers watched the kids play in the water while the mothers went on a hike to the unbelievably picturesque Sol Duc Falls and then got very good massages.

(One caveat on this, and any, natural hot springs — be rigorous about telling children not to swallow the sulfur water. All of ours got a little sick the next day, and we regretted not having been more stern about it.)

In the evenings, we made dinner — one night it was Sammy the One-Eyed Salmon, which we bought for $10 from a local fisherman — and watched the navy-blue evening settle down over the waves, occasionally illuminated by fireworks shot off by other guests. We roasted marshmallows on the beach and marveled at the number of stars you can see when there are no other lights around.

The only problem with our trip, besides Peter’s broken leg, was that it was too short. The consensus of websites and travel guides I consulted while planning the trip was that a week on the Olympic Peninsula was ideal, so this was what we planned. But a week amid such beauty was not nearly enough. When it came time for us to leave, we retraced our path along the northern coast, this time in the daylight, and I regretted the places we had not visited — Neah Bay and Clallum Bay, Lake Quinault and Lake Crescent. I would have liked to revisit Hurricane Ridge on a sunny day, and we certainly could have spent another day or two wandering around the rain forest.

Because, if we’d had two weeks, we most certainly would have seen at least one unicorn.

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(BEGIN TEXT OF INFOBOX)

On the peninsula

GETTING THERE:

From LAX, nonstop service to Seattle-Tacoma International Airport is offered by United and Alaska; direct service (stop, no change of planes) is on Southwest and America West; connecting service (change of planes) is on Northwest. Restricted round-trip fares begin at $163.

For ferry schedules and prices from Seattle to Bainbridge Island, visit https://www.wsdot.wa.gov/ferries/schedules ; for schedules from Port Angeles to Victoria, see https://www.cohoferry.com .

WHERE TO STAY:

Best Western Olympic Lodge, 140 Del Guzzi Drive, Port Angeles, WA 98362; (360) 452-2993, https://www.bestwestern.com . This hotel has rear views of the Olympic Mountains, a heated pool, spacious rooms and a great breakfast. Double rates start at $99.

Hotel Strathcona, 919 Douglas St., Victoria, British Columbia V8W 2C2; (800) 663-7476, https://www.strathconahotel.com . Within walking distance of the harbor and ferry dock, the Strathcona contains popular bars and a rooftop beach volleyball court. Friendly staff, but more a college-kid place than a family hotel. Doubles start at $90.

Ocean Park Resort, P.O. Box 67, La Push, WA 98350; (800) 487-1267 or (360) 374-5267, https://www.ocean-park.org . On Highway 110 as you come into La Push. Primitive cold-water cabins and motel units as well as large new cabins with fireplaces. Kitchens. Small grocery and launderette nearby. Units range from $30 to $220, depending on season.

WHERE TO EAT:

Joshua’s, 113 Del Guzzi Drive, Port Angeles; (360) 452-6545. Seafood and steak at this restaurant across from Olympic Lodge. The fish is very fresh. Entrees $8-$20.

3 Crabs, 11 Three Crabs Road, Sequim; (360) 683-4264, https://www.the3crabs.com . This is the place to go for Dungeness crabs, as well as other local seafood. Entrees $10-$22.

Butchart Gardens, Box 4010, Victoria, British Columbia V8X 3X4; (866) 652-4422, https://www.butchartgardens.com . Lovely picnic dinners are available for $8.

Smoke House Restaurant, 193161 Highway 101, Forks, Wash.; (360) 374-6258. Seafood and meat. Wonderful pies. Entrees start at $10.

Kalaloch Lodge and Restaurant, 157151 Highway 101, Forks; (866) 525-2562, https://www.visitkalaloch.com . Seafood, burgers and other fare are terrific, starting at $8.

TO LEARN MORE:

Washington State Tourism, (800) 544-1800, https://www.experiencewashington.com .

Other websites to try are https://www.northwestsecretplaces.com and https://www.olympicpeninsula.org .

— Mary McNamara