Chapter 1 part 2 – Grayland Washington

by William Bossen Photography

 

Sunday, September 26th, on our way south we pass through the industrial logging/fishing town of Aberdeen.  As you enter the grungy city the welcome to Aberdeen sign states, “Come As You Are”. And guess what??????  Yes, it is Kurt Corbains home town.  Did you ever wonder where he came up with those lyrics?  Well, now you know.  Other than that, it was a dismal town on a damp and ever overcast day South of Seattle.  However, you never know what lies ahead when you are on a road trip and our next stop seemed to materialize out of a David Lynch film.  As we entered the forgotten coastal town of Grayland, we could feel a tangible heaviness in the air and the rain turned into a thick mist.  The road was covered in deep pot holes with occasional danger signs for motorcycle riders.  We passed trailer after trailer covered in Spanish Moss slowly decaying and rusting in the thick forest and coastal rain.  Ancient hippies of a bygone era washed up and wet seemed to be the only destitute residents littering the roadway with driftwood sculptures and broken glass.  Oops, I forgot to mention the younger residents, which all seemed to be meth heads, but why bother mentioning them.  We heard that they had been raiding the local state parks and stealing food and belongings from retirees in RVs.  Why were we in Grayland to begin with?  Well, it is a town along highway 101 and it has a state park smack dab on the very gray ocean with YURTS!


About 6:30 we drove into Grayland State park, hoping to find a warm cozy and dry YURT, but instead we found a 300 lbs camp host in yet another run down trailer dressed in a food stained shirt whose dog had taken on an uncanny resemblance in appearance to her.  She sped around like a bat out of hell in her park assigned golf cart in search of the ranger.  We followed tow in our vehicle, until she identified the other park hosts, a remarkably charming and cleanly dressed couple in their 70’s who also were speeding around in their golf cart and ended up escorting us motorcade style around the parking lot to find the ranger to secure a dry YURT. Sadly to say, after speeding around the very wet and increasingly gray campsite and making a few phone calls the camp hosts announced we would have to pitch a tent.  We smiled at each other, grabbed 3 large bundles of wood and looked for a camp site where we could nestle our little water proof tent under a canopy of trees.


Monday, September 27th, I woke up and thought the sun was shining and announced to Will I wanted to take a walk on the beach.  I thought I saw sunlight filtering through the tent and unzipped the door, a much to my dismay I was met with pouring rain.  We mustered all out Northwest juju, shrugged our shoulders, and packed up our very wet camp as quickly as possible. We were determined to drive south and find sunny skies.  We were on a mission to chase the sun, or shall I say, find the sun.

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