Kayaking Sequim Bay & Dungeness Spit

On Sunday we decided to worship with a kayaking trip out of John Wayne Marina (named after the Duke himself) on Sequim Bay.

We rented doubles for a couple hours, and caught the tide at low, which always brings better views of wild sea critters.
We saw a lot of good sized crabs, like this one. I even got one to grab my paddle with it's big pincher (anyone know the real name of those mean-lookin' claws?) and I hauled it out of the water for a few long seconds before it let go and splashed to safety.

I decided this one would be a little tastier after cooking for a while.

Plenty of dive-bombing gulls to watch out for.
I think I had the best view in the Bay.
We also saw quite a few GB herons.
We cruised through some old pilings before heading back to the docks.
That night we took a short walk out on the Dungeness Spit, a pretty neat little area that sticks out a few miles into the Straight of Juan de Fuca.
View of the crew.
Sunset shot of the chicks.
Abigail put up with a lot out here - it was cold and windy, and the spray from the ocean was enough to chill the bones. If she could talk here, she'd have said 'Shiver me timbers! Guys, I'm sure this is fun for you & all, but maybe could we come back and check this place out on a warmer day?'
Yeah for being back at the warm car!
Thanks for being a trooper, Abee Joy!

Hurricaine Ridge

Log Bed

Every once in a while I get the hankerin' to work on a manly project. I remember fondly things like chopping wood out behind the chicken coup on the dairy growing up. And helping Dad built calf hutches in the commodity shed. And building that 'raft' to float down the canal out of those blue 55 gallon drums (not sure if I ever asked if I could use those, Dad. . .sorry). There's something about producing something with your own hands, sweat (and sometimes blood) that simply gives you a sense of satisfaction.

We had these logs delivered to our house a couple of months ago. They were hand picked by a 'lumberjack' that I know. They come from five different Red Cedar trees that are roughly 80 years old, having grown at high elevation just NW of Mount Rainier under an existing canopy of trees. Therefore they've grown slowly, and their rings are tight, making them a bit prettier. Or so I'm told. Here Matty asks, 'uh. . .this project isn't going to take away from play-time with me, is it?'

We stripped them (the logs, that is), and let them dry for a month.

The first layer (cambium) was pretty easy to remove. But I had to use a draw knife to get down to the deeper layers to show the grain.

Most carpenters measure twice and cut once. I measured about 16 times. . .then thought about it for a while. . .then measured a few more times. . .then cut. . .hoping to only need to cut once. It may have taken me a little longer, but it worked pretty well. Most of this was done by hand. Not a lot of fancy power tools except a drill. Melis helped a ton with sanding, holding the logs in place while I whittled away, planning the dimensions, and hauling the logs around.

One of our favorite parts about this project was actually the smell of the freshly-cut wood. Cedar smells amazing! After using the chisel to make the tenons (pegs), I'd often pick up one of the wood chunks and just take a sniff. Looks like I sniffed one too many times here. Here she is. Although it's not quite done yet. We still need to add the vertical smaller logs on the head & foot boards. That's why they call it a foot board. There's feet on it.
Some of the detail.
There's still a lot of work that needs to go into it - most of the logs aren't sanded very well yet, and then we'll add a clear coat. But it sure feels good having it set up now!

Logs for the bed: a little over a hundred bucks. Eight-inch lag screws to hold it all together: $1.25/each. Making your own bed with your bare hands: priceless.

Camping was in the works for this weekend. But with Melis helping out with Music & Drama camp at church, we needed to be back on Sunday, which meant just a quick overnighter was in order. Evidently everyone else in Washington had the same idea. When we called to reserve a campsite a few days ago, we found out that the only way we would get a campsite was to run into the middle of camp yelling 'BEAR' at the top of our lungs, hoping people would leave.

So no camping meant hiking. After consulting a few hiking books and websites (I love trails.com - it's too bad they make you fork over some dough to use it), we decided on the Glacier View trail on the west flank of Rainier. We knew snow was a possibility, but we got a little more than we bargained for. Thanks to a detailed topo map, a gps, Kristin's navigation skills, and a dog with a nose for the trail (and birds, and squirels, and baby's bottoms), we were usually able to keep our feet near the trail.
We followed a large meadow for a while, but when it became obvious that the trail was on the other side of the river running through it, we had to get creative on a place to cross. Matty thought we were being a little picky.


Melis almost ended up as wet as Matty just after I took this picture, and I nearly threw the camera down going to help her. That log that her walking stick is planted on. . .not very stable.
Goat Lake was a small lake we came to that was still frozen over. We got a late start on the day, and planned to have dinner up here. But there weren't any grandiose views. So we decided to forego dinner in hopes of reaching a place with views.

The crew at Goat Lake.
We climbed and climbed until we were sure we should turn around given the time, but I kept asking for 'just 5 more minutes.' This is what we were rewarded with.

There were Avalanche Lillies all over, but this flower growing right out of the rock impressed me.

Kristin looking towards Mount St Helens, visible in the distance. We stayed at the 'top', near Gobblers Knob for 5 whole minutes before bustin' a move back to the car, racing the setting sun.

Abigail was a champ. She sang sweet songs of praise to God out loud (sometimes very loud - but they were all happy) for most of the first half. At the halfway mark she got a little grumpy for a while, but after a diaper change and a bottle she just chilled most of the way home.

In front of Mount Beljica.

We made her carry that pack, which she wasn't a huge fan of, but if that was the cost of going hiking, she'd do it any day!
We got back to the car just as the sun was setting.
8 miles round trip, plus a little extra due to some minor navagational difficulties on the way out, getting back just before dark. Perfect timing.