Soggy, Happy Weekend at Cape Disappointment
A forecast for the worst storm in Washington State since 1962 was on the horizon. With Typhoon Songda breaking up in the Western Pacific and another low-pressure system building, things weren’t looking good for the Washington Coast. But that was a week away, and although the weather forecast was calling for 20-30 mph winds and driving rain, we didn’t care.
The coast is where we go to do nothing. We walk on the beach and gaze upon 4,000 miles of ocean between us and Japan.
We decided to take our travel trailer on the trip. We had our son’s friend with us, and we wanted to make sure the trailer didn’t need any repairs before the winter ski-camping season. We loaded our bikes, KÜHL jackets and flannels, galoshes, Vegas and Denali (our Rhodesian Ridgebacks) and an attitude impervious to wind and rain, and set out for our destination: the end of the trail for Meriwether Lewis and William Clark, where the mouth of the mighty Columbia River empties into Cape Disappointment.
The drive to the peninsula was amazing. Traveling along, over and around the Chehalis, Willapa and Naselle Rivers and countless river deltas and tidal flats, we finally made it to Cape Disappointment State Park.
Once we checked in and set up camp, we rarely saw the boys. They rode their bikes all over the park. We joined them periodically to explore the North Head and Cape Disappointment lighthouses (only 2.2 miles apart from each other); the Louis and Clark Interpretive Center; and firing and observation positions from the Civil War, World War I and World War II.
We even enjoyed a a few games of Frisbee on the beach.
The weekend flew by, and I realized why Cape Disappointment defies its name as the most visited state park in Washington State. With its rich history, amazing fishing, phenomenal surfing, kayaking in the protected waters of Baker Bay, and seemingly endless trails for hiking and running, it has something for everyone.
We’re already looking forward to our next off-season outing at the mouth of the mighty Columbia River.