Olympic Coastal Strip, 2000

9/12 Ozette Lake

Things out on the coast are tightening up regulation-wise and I find more fees and a new rule that I must carry a bucket with a lid or a bear proof container and get my stove, fuel and toothpaste and other smellies in there too. It’s a pain in the ass brought on by too many people, too many amateurs letting animals get their food. The bourgeois enterprise of camping equipment now has a new twist, not only all kinds of high tech clothes and gadgets but a special mandatory food container too.

The bought fire wood blazes away amidst the RVs and campers. It’s a chance to get outside with plenty of inside around to go to if things get tough. Having just been to Yellowstone for 6 weeks and been here on the coast before, I know it is the wild sense I am after. The campground stuff is transitory; a necessary evil to be endured before I can toss myself into a whole other world.

Just as dark began to set in, I saw 4 racoons coming through the campground. They headed towards my neighbor’s Volvo wagon, which had the hatch back open. Soon afterwards, the husband let out a cry, “racoons!” and the family was up and running with flashlights, but too late, for the racoons had got a bag of granola, “the best stuff we had...”.

9/13 Seafield Stream beach

I awoke at 6:AM and was hiking by 7 to get to the Ozette River at low tide, low enough to cross. There hasn’t been much rain, so not much angst about a tough crossing. I arrived two hours past the low, having hiked 5.4 miles in two hours. Then it was another 2.1 miles to Seafield Stream, 7.5 miles total in a little over three hours. At the Ozette river it is best to cross down by the surf as more sand is piled up and there is less of a channel.

As you get closer to the coast, the sounds of the sea become more pronounced, the distant roar encroaches, the barking of sea lions begins to fill the air, until you are right there. You start to get excited and walk faster. The smell of salt air beckons. The fog was in close and enveloping all. At Cape Alava, the tide was so far out, and shielded by Ozette Island, you couldn’t even hear a wave nor see any water movement, just seaweed covered rocks and tide pools extending out into the fog. It was as if the ocean was just gone.

You couldn’t see any sea stacks or anything more than 50 yards. Some deer were on the beach, bear tracks, racoon tracks, a dead seal, a washed up ray. In the far reaches of the fog were a family of river otters walking along. They saw me and ran to the surf’s edge and waited there until I walked past. They then ran up the beach and off into the woods towards the river.

It takes a while to get used to the substrate, learning what is OK to walk on and what will bust your ass. With a fresh, heavy pack, a fall would be bad for the arms and wrists. One of the toughest sections awaits, north from here up to the Point of the Arches, but I have another 2 nights before that, time to eat down some weight.

9/14 Seafield beach

Started off with coffee and a walk through the tide pools. The sheer amount and diversity of life is amazing. Later on, a bald eagle flew in amongst a flock of gulls. The gulls constantly put pressure on the eagle, but wouldn’t get too close. A couple of Harlequin ducks paddled the surf. Pelicans fished farther out with gulls following for scraps. Seals, sea lions, sand pipers and different species of gull were about. Then as I poked along the splash line, with deep water close by on a steep beach, all of a sudden there was a sea otter not 20 yards from me. It was way bigger than I expected, the size of a small seal. I got a good look at it, until it noticed me and split PDQ. Other otters were around farther away. A Makah I met in Neah Bay later told me some sea otter males on the coast are over 100 pounds. (2) All the sea otters now are descendants of less than 100 reintroduced animals. I wondered, what is the largest mustelid? The amazon otter, sea otter or wolverine? Past mustelids have been bear size, but now extinct.

Spent almost all day walking up and down this beach, in the tide pools, up in the driftwood, along the high tide line. The Park recently picked up a lot of beach trash and things were noticeably cleaner, with less man made junk to look at. I had previously counted on being able to use large quantities of free string washed up into the driftwood. A Park Service guy in a rubber boat brought in 4 loads to Seafield Stream and some other volunteers humped it all up to a big stash  in the woods near a logging road.

Birds abound, pelicans diving with their signature attack, cormorants fly by, struggling to stay up in the air, being better adapted to life under water. Fog and unsettled weather are blowing in from the south. About 20 gulls are following a sea otter who is trying to eat it’s sea urchin or abalone. The otter swims along upside down and periodically lunges up at the gulls, who persistently pester it in hopes of dislodging a morsel. The otter finally dropped something, after a long chase, and a gull got it, after which the whole pack chased it until it dropped it and it went on as a mad dash until one of them was finally able to gulp it down.

A heron came to the stream, where fresh water meets salt. It did not tolerate gulls any where near it and was ever vigilant to drive any close gulls off. The heron caught something and immediately the gulls took notice and moved in a little, causing the heron to go on the attack, still having a formidable pecker, even with a fish in it. When the heron flew off, the gulls harried it a little, just to let the heron know they weren’t scared. The heron is a cool cat, good, slinky moves, good stabbing action, a nice strut. The bird seems adept at procuring food when it wants to.

Crows are smart. They exploit resources all through the beach and intertidal zone, catching bugs among the driftwood or picking hapless invertebrates off the exposed tidal rocks. If a crow is getting too much to eat in front of the gulls, the gulls will start to move in on the crow and try to steal it’s food. The gulls main strategy seems to be to try and steal food, while crows and herons can do just fine getting their own. Crows work as a group, with sentinels staying up in trees off the beach to give warning to others if trouble comes up. A couple of crows were dropping shellfish on the river rocks, a good distance from where they caught them. One crow dropped a shell multiple times before cracking it. As the tide goes out, the crows are right behind it, ready to snag animals left exposed. As the birds all wait for the low tide and the chance to pick around the pools and rocks, they bide their time by eating beach hoppers among the flotsam and jetsam. Herons, crows and gulls all exploit the constant bounty of the beach hoppers. In the absence of a big payday, beach hoppers sometimes have to do.

Sitting and watching for hours brings out a lot of detail that is missed when walking through and trying to get from one place to another. You see a lot. It happens at a different pace than human stuff, just animals doing their thing. The birds are endlessly fascinating, always up to something new. The amount of food it takes to feed all these birds a day, is astounding, let alone all the seals, sea lions, sea otters, fish, and all the other life. It is a big and fast food chain, all unfolding right before your eyes.

9/15 Shi Shi Beach

Hiked up a difficult 3.5 miles to Shi Shi. It is tough going through a lot of rock slides, tidal areas, headlands, rock faces and cliffs with ropes etc. (1) There was a dead whale on one beach, almost all skeleton but still some meat. Before a cocoon of fog descended I was able to see cape Flattery and across the Straight of Juan de Fuca to Vancouver Island and probably part of the West Coast Trail that Dave and I hiked a few years ago.

9/17 Shi Shi Beach

The tide pools at Point of the Arches are absolutely stunning and chock full of life. It is the best tide pool spot I’ve ever seen, as you can get out far enough to see into really deep pools that are rarely left uncovered by water. You are out there walking through arches and passageways and caves that at high tide are rip-roaring channels, roiling with surf and deep, heavy waves.

I’ve continued my quest to be the King of that rarest of treasures, beach glass and to date, have found some green pieces, two white and one blue. Also, yesterday, quite a find, a sea otter skull, complete except for half of the mandible, plus some vertebrae, arm and finger bones. It was right under my nose for days, which lends credence to the idea that beach combing always holds a surprise. You can look for rocks, shells, bones, animals, dead animals, drift wood, flotsam, Japanese trash, fishing gear, messages in a bottle, always something.

The weather has been nice and moody, dark clouds, some fog, a bit of sun here and there yesterday which lasted long enough for me to take a dip. The water is insanely cold. A short dip is all the doctor ordered, just to get the salt on me and commune with that great, immense unknown which gently laps the shore now.

As the shades of night come in and the days exploring and adventures cease, one is left to stand and watch a subtle transition, another day fades into darkness, transfixing me in a meditative state. Heading off to bed I wondered about Steller’s sea eagle and Steller himself. Who was this Steller? Well, the Steller’s sea eagle is from the Russian coast and occasionally strays to Alaska. It can weigh 20 pounds and has a wing span of 7.5 feet. It is the largest eagle in the world, with white markings on it’s wings and tail. It is not endangered but certainly at risk, with less than 5000 animals left.

Georg Steller, naturalist,  was part of Captain Vitus Bering’s 1741 expedition to Alaska. The expedition started a torrent of exploitation and exploration in the north Pacific. Jack London’s The Sea Wolf describes some of the seal hunting in the area. Steller recorded hundreds of species, including the ones named after him, Steller’s sea cow, Steller’s jay, Steller’s sea lion, Steller’s spectacled cormorant. The sea cow was extinct in 1767, the last known animal killed on Bering Island, 25 years after Steller’s discovery. The ship wrecked on Bering Island and the crew got scurvy. Steller staved off the scurvy for the crew by whipping up plant concoctions.  The remaining crew built a boat out of the wreck and returned. Steller died at age 37, 4 years after returning, discredited and sent to Siberia. Others claimed his work as their own, but his first descriptions of animals and the area stand today as accurate. So, there’s a little Steller for you.

Shi Shi beach has two competing factors. One is the attraction of the Point of the Arches and two is the easy access from the north end of the beach through the Makah reservation. The minority of people play by Park rules and lug it up here through some of the most difficult hiking possible, carrying the required bucket. The majority show up, sometimes in big groups and dot the north end of the beach with garish tents and parade up and down the beach, at night torching off big fires. The north end folks don’t have tide tables nor buckets and are skirting the Park’s efforts to monitor access and educate users on how to respect the resource. Because of this trend Shi Shi will become part of the quota area soon and you will have to make reservations to even go there. In the off seasons, reservations are probably not necessary as not enough people can break away from their work-a-day life.

You can’t blame folks for wanting to take an easier way in to a great place. Still, after hiking in from the south and expecting a modicum of isolation, it is somehow not right that the beach is filled with yahoos. It detracts from the potential wilderness value. Even among wilderness enthusiasts, not all will have the same or even similar attitudes towards a great resource like the Olympic coast. It is not realistic that all users will just turn into John Muir upon arrival. The Olympic coast is now so popular that a guy just has to put up with lots of people. Off seasons offer the best chance for isolation and if you can tolerate stormy weather, that will weed out even more people. (3)

Up until 1982, when the Park Service acquired it, the Shi Shi area was just Clallam County land. Most of the rest of the coastal portion of the Park was created by FDR during WW2. On Shi Shi beach, hippies had a driftwood house settlement, which was all torn down and burned by the Park. The hippies used to come in by the north trail and also through logging roads that are close to the beach. The place is known and has a history of easy access use. It has probably also been exposed through backpacking, outdoors magazines, as a top ten secret.

People, people, people. What to do? What to say? The bulk of the back packing scene is a bourgeois enterprise. It starts to get to be about stuff and gadgets and “quality” gear rather than those things being solely a means to an end. The end being the possibility of being inspired and transformed by nature on it’s own terms. It would be nice if the Park could just clear everyone else out when I am there.

The swell has picked up and even though the high tide of 7.4' is the same as yesterday afternoon, the waves just washed to within 30' of my tent, cause for enough alarm for me to bag everything up inside so I can move it fast. It’s not the big, spectacular waves that get you, but the cumulative effect. I’ve only got 10 more minutes until the high and then it will start backing off. The coming high, at 4:30 AM tomorrow is 6.4' and if it is not too stormy, (4) I should be able to stay put. I’ve never taken a wave, but have seen folks who have, all huddled around smoky fires in the driftwood with all their stuff hanging and rippling in the wind, sort of like a post-nuclear survival scene. I saw one guy get caught by a breaker while already carrying his wet sleeping bag on the outside of his pack. He got sucked out into the surf and was rescued by his buddies. Other folks sleep too close to rivers which in heavy rain, rise up and swamp them at night. The surfer from Oklahoma on the Lost Coast was woefully unprepared for the rigors of beach camping and got rained out bad, abandoning a lot of his gear in a makeshift driftwood shack as he bolted after days of inclement weather. Then, of course, is our famous Vacation of Terror in Mexico, when the tide came in on Mark’s truck and we had to abandon it for the night after jacking up the engine on the hibachi and sticking a potato in the tail pipe. I write all this with a watchful eye towards the beach, half expecting to be slightly combed off and get a tent full of sand and sea weed. The ocean is licking at my tent.

The power of the ocean is worthy of serious respect. This morning on Point of the Arches, I went out into secret, deep places where the high tide would have been well over my head and the splash zone was 20' over my head. Now the area is covered with deep water, heavy surf and big, rooster tail foaming white splashes. The sand spit leading out there is covered with breakers and mist.

Life crawls up the rocks as far as it can and still be nourished by sea water. Then there is a zone of about 10 yards where nothing but anonymous slime grows, a transition zone where the boundary of sea and land life merge and above, the land plants start. Sitting here now, as a member of the human species, a young species as far as species go, our whole line only around 2.5 million years old, reflecting on how my distant ancestors in the family of life somehow crossed that barrier of salt to fresh water, sea to land, crawled out and started the history that eventually led to me sitting here, is just a thought beyond comprehension. How vast the time! How many the steps and days through the millennia, and yet there is the connection. I came from that life out there in the intertidal area.

An osprey came out of the forest earlier, snagged a fish in the surf, got swamped by a breaker and flew back off with it’s prize. I walked a 6.5 mile round trip up the beach and back. The weekend warriors were gone, except a young couple with a cute girl who asked me “if it is high tide here, where is it low tide?”. (5)

9/18 Seafield Stream

Yesterday went by like a puff of smoke. Time slips away as I catch the rhythm of the place. Low tide was at 10:10 AM today and I left at 8:50 AM, leaving some breathing room by walking into the low. I wanted the extra time as it was raining, heavy mist, all wet and windy and I had to do the difficult section again. I was somewhat leery of slippery slopes and wet ropes covered with clay, but nevertheless determined to give it a shot.

As I was packing, the formerly aloof crew of folks up the beach came by loaded to go, hiking out the north side. I knew they had come in from the south. The prettiest girl asked if I was going out and could I give them a ride to Ozette? She said the hike back south was too “gnarly” and they were hitching. They were all friendly, unlike before when they didn’t need anything from me. They seemed surprised that I had come in that way and was now going back with some weather raining down. Them bailing out gave me a pause for reflection, “should I do it?”. Sure, I can always bail out and come back.

As soon as Joe Gnarly gets going, the sky opens up with rain and I run to the trees for cover. Then, catching a chill, I headed around the point, into the wind and the slimy tide pools and rocks. After a couple of steep, gravelly beaches and more tidal areas was the first rope and small rock face. Dramatizing it all is the pounding surf and large swell through hundreds of islets and sea stacks, churning, roaring, spray, combers lapping the sides of the stacks and big rocks. The mist, the wind, the wet, slippery substrate, alone.

The first rope was a piece of cake and up above, a towering view of hidden coves and impassable headland beaches. Nature rules completely here. I had the thought that this nature here is tremendously powerful. Unlike a grizzly with big teeth and claws and it’s own volition, the nature here simply waits for you to make a mistake. If you err in judgement, the hermit crabs will be waiting to eat your soggy flesh as it drifts back in forth. It would be your own fault.

The one rope I was scaredest of turned out fine but there was an area just off the rope with the trail muddy and narrow, highly exposed above the rocks about 25' below. that done, a couple of more lagoons of gravel and slime, ups and overs through exposed tree roots and mild ropes, past the beach with the eaglet in the grass and to the last big rope. It is a long way down. You can’t look; you just have to start down and take each boot placement carefully. It is all fine and doable, exposed, yes, with a heavy pack and steep, clay mud. Going down was quickly done but then, at the end, about 10' straight down with a steep roll out below. The only way to do it wet is to go straight over the edge on the rock. Going off to the sides and the dirt, you would slip and the rope would pull you back into the middle, into the rock.

The final hurdle is the big, slimy, jumbled rock slide, a labyrinth of pathways going to dead ends and places where a guy with a pack cannot get through. (6) Below is the surf, above, steep cliffs, the only way is to go through the pile. There are rocks of all sizes, from house size to bowling ball size, but the traction is good if you stay high. I had to take my pack off three times and lower it, toss it or place it, just so I could get through and not risk having the pack throw me off balance or drag or catch on something. A frame pack s no good for this hike. At one point I straddled a crevasse 30'deep and tossed the pack onto a ledge, stepped back and then jumped.

I was glad to be through and hoofed it down to Seafield stream, arriving 3.5 hours and 3 miles later. It is a good walk down to the Ozette river from here and while it would have been fun to watch the tide push back the river, I didn’t want to commit, thinking the tide would the water brackish and undrinkable. Down there you only get your water out of the river at low tide, and then, far back inland to get away from kelp and shit.

Here I am. A vigorous surf fades off into the mist in all directions. As I was setting up my tent, one pole had a problem which I really couldn’t fix without pliers. Out of the woods came an old hippy there, with a Leatherman tool, which I promptly used to good advantage. I conjured him up and then he was gone. Night and fog have enveloped all, a mantle of mist has descended, even seeming to muffle the surf. The trees look especially mystical off in the distance shrouded in fog, lonely sentinels bearing silent witness to countless eons of time.

I spent the afternoon ensconced in my plastic shelter, eating and watching the surf and birds fly by. A piece of plastic for cooking shelter is essential gear here, in addition to your tent. Saw my first oyster catcher birds, with the long red bills. This place has the ability to close off all other reality except one’s own, be it through thick blankets of fog or by hiking through rough and alien tidal zones and rugged headlands. .

Now, entirely dark, fog collects on the trees and rips languidly into the sand as the sounds of surf roll away. there is always a background roar, punctuated by the hissing of long breakers and the occasional clap of a big wave. The sounds grow louder, then softer, as if great herds of giant bison were running wild and willy nilly and rock slides were coming down and a few jet planes were taking off to boot.

9/19 Seafield stream

Coffee time has arrived once again, after a fitful 10 hours sleep and a nice big shit down in the kelp debris. With fog, it is dark by 8: PM and light at 6:30 AM. I have been resting well with nights full dreams and surf. My hiking clothes are in a garbage bag, drenched and cold. Today’s main challenge will be to put that stuff on and get a head of steam going to warm up. Then, cross the Ozette, round Cape Alava and back to the campground, 7 plus miles.

Yesterday’s fog was thick, almost like rain, yet still, it did not break the surface tension on the pools in the stream. You could see it in the air, it would get you wet in a hurry, yet it was too fine to be classified as rain. Today the fog is much finer, a higher quality of fog, you can’t see it in the air.

The gulls like to hang out at the mouth of streams and rivers. If you see a large gathering of them on the beach, you know there is fresh water. The birds can bathe and also, the water temperature of streams and rivers is much warmer than the sea, and thus, more comfortable to while a way the hours standing in. The gulls always stay very near the water and are skittish. They are robust birds and do well but at times, can be prey too.

Ah, the fog is breaking, I see a cloud! Some slight lifting of the mantle creates a whole new aspect. The mind can wander out farther, come out of it’s shell to contemplate larger spaces and possibilities. Oh, the broadening horizon closes back up, the momentary suspense of expansive opening drifts back to misty aloneness. Out there somewhere is a big world but for now all that matters is this space, this coffee and the chance to let the hustle and bustle all just fall away, gone in the seamless hiss of endless breakers.

This trip is well worth overcoming any angst one might have about getting wet or dealing with challenging substrate. The cumulative effect is very relaxing and peaceful. Alone, the business of the mind slips and slips until after a week or so, all pressure evaporates and one is left to just experience the wonders of the coast. I would only, at least two weeks after Labor day. I would avoid Shi Shi beach on weekends and avoid Sand Point and Cape Alava altogether, except to walk through. All the hype about racoons has turned out to be for naught. I didn’t need a bucket or bear resistant container. The racoons just don’t mess with me. It would be nice to catch a full moon or new moon tide during a trip and to have the lows running in the early morning to start and getting progressively later during your stay. Tide charts and information can be gotten off the NOAA website. 8' tides will cover most of the beaches and 12' tides rock the driftwood. 7.5' tides get pretty far up the beach but still leave spots right out on the beach, unless there is stormy weather and big swell. It is better to set up a tent on the beach and not under trees because the trees constantly drip foggy dew, but with the possibility of a big high tide, it would be better to get a site off in the forest.

Back at the campground, the mystical magic still lingers in my mind yet I am back among the bourgeoisie. The racoons are waiting for the next unsuspecting RV with a door open to the riches of special bourgeois tastes. The women tend the propane stoves and the husbands drink beer. It is all placid and wonderful by the mist enshrouded lake. No one drifts far from their picnic table scene. It is all the adventure of being outside while having all the comforts of inside just a step away. The crows caw, giving all good opportunistic animals the word, “they’re here, again, those stupid two-legged things with great food, mobilize the forces and get ready for the night!”.

I’m left to go on from here. Something cast a spell on me out there and while it is difficult, the rewards far outweigh any trepidations about taking the place on. 

Appendix 1: Upwelling and tidal zones

Upwelling brings nutrients to upper layers of water, the phytoplankton bloom, zooplankton eats it, crustaceans, small fish and squid eat zooplankton, larger fish, sea birds and marine mammals eat the latter. Upwelling areas change seasonally and also depend on undersea topography. Fog is formed by moist air’s exposure to the cold sea water which has just upwelled from the depths.

Intertidal zones:

sand beach/ mud flat

rocky shores:

driftwood/ extreme high tide line

splash zone: very harsh, exposed to freezing, hot sun

high intertidal

middle intertidal

low intertidal: exposed only with lowest low tides

micro habitats: under rocks, tidepools, docks, pilings

Appendix 2: Identifications and notations of what I saw

Class Polyplacophora: chiton

lined chiton: Tonicella lineata/ blue plates, low intertidal to shallow subtidal, preyed on by purple sea star

Class Gastropoda: limpets, snails, nudibranchs, shells made of carbonate lime

rough keyhole limpet: Diodora aspera, low intertidal to subtidal, makes thin, soft mantle to cover shell and protect against sea start attaching feet

whitecap limpet: Acmaea mitra, low intertidal to shallow subtidal, shell white or pink, pink from encrusting coraline algae which is also prime food, foot is very strong

shield limpet: Lottia pelta, high and low intertidal, on rocks and in mussel beds, also on various species of brown algae, including sea palm

plate limpet: Notoacmaea scutum, high to low intertidal, on rocks, has brown tentacles which only able to be seen when limpet is moving, tries to escape when sea starts are detected

ribbed limpet: Lottia digitalis, splash zone to high intertidal, often in shade, one study showed ribbed limpet only goes 3" from it’s established territory, shells matches rock, has a home spot

black turban: Tegula funebralis, rocky shores to mid intertidal, eats only soft seaweed, believed to live as long as 10 years, eaten raw by natives

moonsnail: Polinices lewesii, in sand, gravel, mud, low intertidal to subtidal, up to 165' deep, plows through sand, preying onm clams and other bivalves by drilling a hole in shell, egg case is “sand collar”

Arthropods:

California beach hopper: Megalorchestia calififorniana

crabs

goose barnacle

pelagic goose barnacle

thatched barnacle

acorn barnacle

Bryozoans: moss animals

Cnidarians: hydras, jellyfish, anemones, coral

green anemone

aggregating anemone

red and green anemone

giant plumose anemone, the one that was red and hanging down

Echinodermata: sea stars, sea urchins, sand dollars

-Pacific blood star

-purple star

-sunflower star: 15,000 tube feet, largest and fastest sea star in region, voracious, eats clams, crabs, doesn’t do well when exposed to air, very soft skin

-purple sea urchin

-eccentric sand dollar

Vertebrates:  chordates: fish, amphibians, reptiles, birds, mammals

Fish:

tidepool sculpin

long nose skate

various nasty fish heads

Amphibians:

frogs

Reptiles: garter snake

Birds:

cormorants: sea crows, cor from Latin “crow” , mor from “mar”, or sea

harlequin duck

osprey

peregrine falcon

bald eagle, and huge chick in the beach grass

great blue heron

black oyster catcher

sandpipers

gulls

guillemots

belted kingfisher

crow

wren

Mammals:

harbor seal

California sea lion

gray whale skeleton

river otter

sea otter

racoon

Plants:

green algae:

sea hair

sea lettuce

sea moss

tangle weed

brown algae:

sea weeds/ kelp

flowering plants:

eel grass

surf grass

Lichens: fungi and algae, some in salt spray, others above salt spray

Appendix 3

-Spring time has the most wildlife on the coast, a good time to come might be before the tourist season.

Footnotes:

(1) The big boulder field can be seen from Seafield Stream camp, north and just before the coast goes around the corner. It is a true maze and can be treacherous if wet. Stay high and take your time, go back and try other routes if need be and it is all doable. If you stay too low, you get into big slimy rocks.

(2) The Makah museum in Neah Bay is really worth seeing, especially after being on the beach. At the Ozette village site on Cape Alava, you can actually see whale bones falling out of the bank.

(3) Gear: bring a piece of plastic to use for a kitchen tarp and some p- cord,  you can bring your own container for food as long as it can snap shut, don’t ever leave any food unattended, even for a minute, especially in the high use areas where racoons will be after it in a second, if you have a bucket, you’ll need to hang that too, 50' of cord to hang food recommended

-good rain gear, Tevas, lots of garbage bags, ie, garbage bags inside sleeping bag stuff sack, inside pack, inside Therma-rest bag, extras for wet clothes, wet tent, piece of plastic for ground cloth, all food and other gear zip-locked

(4) If it is stormy, low tide heights may not apply, the tides will be higher and a person has to take that into account when rounding headlands or camping near the high tide line.

(5) To understand the tides and it’s major influences, the moon and sun, read up some and it will make the trip more interesting.

(6) An internal frame pack is best for this trip. Keep food rope available for lowering pack over rough areas if need be.

(7) I shit below the current high tide line and let the surf and animals dispose of it, as per low impact camping recommendations on a wilderness beach. Olympic may not be actual wilderness because of the numbers of people and volume of shit generated, but I prefer to pop that Texan wild and free, and cover it with some kelp until the tide takes care of it. If there are people around, you can shit on a piece of wood in the driftwood piles and then carry it down below the high tide line.