Port Angeles to Columbia River Mouth

It's the seventh time in four weeks that I'm on a ship. Perhaps I should join the sailors union or some yacht club...
A short 2-hour-cruise exchanges one rugged North-Pacific coast line for another, both very much alike — steep cliffs and temperate rainforest galore.
This ship is bound for Port Angeles, Washington, USA - a not too big harbour town in front of the silhouette of the mighty Olympic Mountains. And its port is another border for me to cross, one that almost leaves me flabbergasted by the ease and relaxed way of proceedings. The customs lady wasn't interested in my luggage but gave me directions where to buy groceries and which road to take out of town, a very pleasant surprise. I suppose they trust the thorough job done by their Canadian colleagues...  

So these are the US of A, home to gangster rappers and the Wild West. The town certainly looked less polished and clean than the ones I had seen on the Canadian side, but a little decay can add charm, right?
Outside Safeway supermarket I left the bike locked with all but the camera bag on(What else can you do?) and went food shopping with mixed feelings. Everything was still in place when I came out, so don't pay too much attention to prejudices, will you?
While stowing away my provisions a man walked by telling me not to be fooled by the present summer weather, it's supposed to be wet and miserable here at all times.
Another guy walked by numerous times, carrying a blue pot flower, which was supposed to be a gift for a friend's birthday("just friends, you know...").
I asked a middle aged lady for directions to the highway, but she was new in town and didn't know for sure but advised me to go that way and then ask again, no young girls though, as they just like to lead on man and can't be trusted, better ask man in shops, they'd be reliable...
Did I mention I love weird people?

I finally made it out of town onto the highway and into the same kind of hills and creeks and lakes that you'd find north of the border, so Washington doesn't feel that much different to B.C. yet. But lets see what the road still holds in store for us, shall we?

The likeness in landscape and vegetation continued: lots of forest and logging industry, hills and mountains, rain forest on a rough and misty coast. Signs of more basic living and even decay(ruins, scrap, rubbish, dirt) continued to be clearly more widespread and visible than in rather wealthy and neat B.C., but I didn't mind.
And there were other, less obvious but to the traveller significant differences to British Columbia: The about one-third lower general price level and availability of wine and beer not only in liquor stores but nearly EVERYWHERE - O evil temptation!

The northwest corner of Washington State is mostly forest and seems to be very sparse populated, there where but few towns or settlements and little traffic — and, being a big fan of lonely roads, I enjoyed that very much.

After circumnavigating the Olympic Mountains on their westside, highway 101 joined the Pacific coast just south of the River Hoh. At first, there was no sea to be seen nor heard, as it was hidden behind a veil of dense grey fog, but omnipresent flocks of summer tourists' cars were a sure indicator for it actually being out there, somewhere. As I continued south though, the sun could claim partial success in battling the wet mess, and soon, through gaps in the wind-beaten coastal rainforest, I was able to catch glimpses of sandy beaches, rimmed by a barricade of bleached driftwood on one side and merging into the leaden waters of the northern Pacific Ocean on the other.

At Queets the road turned back inland, running along the boundary of Quinault Indian Reservation before turning south again. There wasn't much to see of the Quinault Nation, only their name on the signs that marked the paths entering their lands off-highway.

Towards the bays in southwest Washington the silence of the forests is fading quickly. First there's Grays Harbor with the cities Hoquiam and Aberdeen and further south follows Willapa Bay with Raymond and South Bend. Now, those aren't exactly metropolis-like cities, but coming in after spending some quiet time in the woods makes you certainly feel the buzz. By general measures they also might not be considered to be the prettiest places on earth, mainly displaying the rather utilitarian facade of industrial hinterland harbour towns, yet I kept stumbling over charming or odd little gems of beauty while riding through:
A bright-orange custom car was glowing like a sun on wheels in front of a grey house on a grey street under a grey sky. I saw a traveling Bonsai vendor and his dedicated van. Lots of old, tiny wooden houses, each one uniquely displaying the taste in style and colour of their builder or inhabitant, lined the some of the streets.

The mighty Columbia River marks the natural southern border of Washington State. At its mouth it expands and stretches into a long bay. When I arrived it was bathed in the most dramatic of lights: Threatening dark clouds were gathering to block the sky and to turn the waters into lead, but the low morning sun was sending powerful golden rays through the gaps, creating stark contrasts and making the greys glow and radiate. I love that kind of rare but intense illumination, it's like a brute form of poetry.

An impressive, several kilometres long bridge arches across the bay and it feels like it's stretching even farther when you're riding over it on a slow bicycle. It's tricky to estimate distances on a long strait, too. Then, almost suddenly, Astoria and the Oregon shore pop up right in front of you. Behind you it starts to drizzle over Columbia mouth, but you smile, you just discovered a promising patch of blue sky just in the direction you're going. Always stay on the sunny side of the street...