I came downstairs a bit earlier than Rachael this morning, and was surprised to find Sooke Inlet encased in fog. I walked down to the docks and poked around for a few minutes until breakfast was served, and was startled by a pair of seals peeking out of the water just off the shore. They resubmerged as soon as they saw me, but one reappeared and lumbered up on a small rock. The light was too dim for a decent picture, but I still had fun trying. I was surprised to find that if I lightly tapped my foot on the dock it would get his attention and he would look my way.
Over a delicious omelette breakfast, Rachael and I watch the day steadily brighten as the fog burns off. By the time we’re ready to leave it has receded enough that the Olympics are visible through the mouth of the inlet, just rising above the clouds.
We have a hard ride ahead of us, one we’re actually dreading just a bit. There’s not much between here and Port Renfrew, so we appeal to the kitchen to make a pair of ham and cheese sandwiches for the road for us, and they oblige.
Before leaving town we coast down to the waterfront for a last look around. It’s nearing low tide, and we’d been told to watch for seals then. It didn’t take much sleuthing - about a half dozen of them are lying on the rocks or swirling in the shallows.
It was foggy when I first come downstairs, but it recedes quickly. By the time we’re ready to ride the mountains will be in view again. It looks like a B&W, doesn’t it? It’s not though - it came off the camera this way.
We’re a bit apprehensive about today’s ride. There are two concerns. One, we wonder how the road conditions and traffic will be. I’ve never read an account of this, and know nothing other than what I could glean from staring at Google Maps. We’re hoping we aren’t setting off for 45 miles of narrow, winding roads and a steady stream of log trucks and campers.
Two, we wonder just how tough the ride will be. After enjoying yesterday’s flat glide on the Galloping Goose, we’re not so enthusiastic about the very lumpy ride that our GPS route shows us is in store for us.
So we have good news to report on both concerns. One, the traffic isn’t bad at all. There are cars and trucks and campers, but it’s not really that busy. They tend to clump up, and then there are long moments when you have the quiet road to yourself; and the further west we ride, the quieter it gets. By the end of the day there’s really very little traffic accompanying us. Also, the road itself is just fine. It’s a good surface, and even though there’s no marked shoulder most of the time, the lanes are wide enough that cars have no trouble leaving us plenty of room when they pass. It felt like a perfectly safe ride, if not quite a wilderness experience.
Two, the ride wasn’t nearly as difficult as we expected. In fact, our GPS route was just wrong, overstating the total elevation gain by nearly a thousand feet. All day long we watched the elevation profile on our Garmins and were delighted to see one steep rise and drop after another smooth out significantly. It was still a challenging ride, but not the leg-sapping monster we’d built up in our minds.
The fog was still hanging over the Strait of Juan De Fuca when we left Sooke.
The ride surprised me a bit in that for most of the way the Strait is not visible from the road. It looks so close on the map, but views are blocked by dense forest most of the way. It makes you really appreciate spots like this when they come along.
Scott AndersonTo Ron SuchanekOf course! We picked the wrong music for the video. We should start consulting with the Singing Cowboy first. Reply to this comment 4 years ago
We took our lunch break at Jordan River, the midpoint of the ride and the last stop with facilities before Port Renfrew. We passed one or two coffee spots earlier in the ride, but it was too soon for a stop. We ate lunch at a picnic bench outside the charmingly eccentric Cold Shoulder Cafe, accompanied by a curious and probably hopeful northwestern crow.
We had been especially apprehensive about the miles after Jordan River, because Anne Mathers indicated that we’d find the hills interesting. It’s hilly alright, but so much less so than we had expected that we considered ourselves very lucky.
We arrived in Port Renfrew at 3, and not sure of if we could check in to our lodge yet. Before going there, we stopped at a corner and energetically discussed (some might term this arguing) whether we should go to the store first. Our discussion was interrupted by a woman who drove up, lowered her window, and advised us that it was too nice a day to waste arguing by the side of the road. Good point.
There’s a nice snack shop at Jordan River, the last such spot until we reach Port Renfrew. We ate our sandwiches from the hotel here, supplemented with a piece of delicious banana chocolate chip cake for Rachael and spanakopita, of all things, for me.
For a few miles though the road rises up and crosses a large clear-cut slope. Nice that someone has cut down all the view blockers so we can see the mountains again!
We’re staying tonight at Big Fish Lodge, a rustic, comfortable place in a perfect location right on the bay. When our host Bonnie shows us our room she tells us that when the previous guests arrived in this room there were two grey whales spouting in the bay outside their window.
No grey whales for us today, but everything else about the stay was perfect. What a beautiful, wild place this is! We’re so happy to be here. Score one for our decision to sell our home and hit the road. I imagine we would never have come out here otherwise.
There’s not much to Port Renfrew. There’s the restaurant, which is quite close by but quite closed at the moment - Tuesday is their quiet day. Or, there’s the Port Renfrew Pub, about a long mile away if you take the short cut along the beach, as we did. It’s a lively place tonight, and it’s a good thing we arrived early. It’s filled with young, energetic, fit folks, including both the clients and staff. It has a very outdoorsy vibe that makes me think of the pub in Moab where I picked up my Dead Horse Point cycling jersey. Our server, a lithe young woman with long red hair, tells us that she works here (her home) in the summer but winters in Panama with her Panamanian husband. She went down there originally as Canada’s representative a the surfing championship, fell in love, and stayed.
We’re back at the lodge by eight, not wanting to be walking the coast road after dark, and sit around the lodge for the rest of the evening, chatting with Bonnie while she prepares tomorrows breakfast. She’s full of great stories about life out here - bears in the yard, a cougar peeking in the window, extended blackouts. It really feels like we’re at the edge of the world here.
At our quarters for the night, Big Fish Lodge. Look at that arbutus!
When I first stepped out on the beach in front of the motel, a bald eagle was flying overhead, a large fish hanging from its beak. This young one was in hot pursuit, but then gave up and swooped in for a landing not far from me.
A raven I think, but he didn’t take flight so I couldn’t see the shape o his tell-tale tail to be certain. He was too focused on some sea creature he’s been shredding to fly off.
A wall of huge beached trees lines the shore below the lodge. The innkeeper says they wash higher up the beach in the winter, and she has to hire a bulldozer to push them back down again in the spring.
Scott AndersonTo Bruce LellmanAs good a theory as mine. And definitely beautiful. I must have taken fifteen photos of it. Reply to this comment 4 years ago
