Speeding? Really?

28 in a 20.  Really.  This has got to be the lamest speeding ticket EVER.

Maybe it was the blue plates. Strict enforcement is what he said. The rest of us call it a speed trap.  $189.  Somebody has to pay for those new police cruisers in Quilcene.

We joked about driving a VW bus across the U.S.  We might break down, but at least we wouldn’t get a speeding ticket, we said.  Once again, we were wrong.

Along the east coast of the Olympic peninsula, we found a perfectly good seaside town at Hoodsport. The forecast called for lightening storm, but so far the Seattle forecasts have been wrong every day. Wrong enough that Bode has asked why those guys can’t get it right.  Anyway, we circled around the town, and found a cheap motel on the waterfront with great views.

Outside the locked office was a converted rotary phone. Lifting the receiver called the owners, who were not located on the property. Not to worry, the room is unlocked, and has the registration form in it. They’ll be down later to collect the money.

After the anxiousness of trying to put some miles behind us, this sleepy little town reminds me we’re on vacation. We can slow down a little, and considered staying 2 nights.

While Jason mostly drives, I’m the DJ, navigator, and chef. I’m now gazelle-like jumping over the firewood between the front seats, steering past the edge of the fridge and handing Bode a snack or toy. When we leave, this action is in reverse, starting at the sliding door, throwing the kid in the car seat, jumping over the stuff on the floor to unlock the driver’s door and let Jason in. His door doesn’t unlock from the outside (most of the time), but in the perfect yin and yang of Red Beard, my passenger door won’t lock from the inside, and I usually have trouble shutting it without 3 or so full force slams. More stuff on the to-do list.

There were 2 restaurants from which to choose dinner. We missed the turn for Mexican, so pub grub it was. We sat down and a woman came over and informed us she’d be our waitress, bartender and cook. She said that all the food was great, but then I noticed the kitchen was behind the bar. I heard both the electric can opener and microwave soon after we ordered. She was right, the food was delicious. But the best part? In a game of Name That Tune, Bode correctly identified Green Day’s “Do You Know the Enemy”. I’m one proud mama.

Bode and I headed to the pier the next morning when I saw a seal playing around near the beach. At low tide we saw giant red jellyfish (or jelly-like creatures) on the beach, huge starfish, sea anemones and crabs. Near the steps were huge piles of oyster and crab shells, where guests were encouraged to throw their shells after cooking. I think it was off season, as we seemed to be the only motel guests. The motel was fully equipped with diving gear, and I can see why this would be a great scuba spot. Not for me though. Before the trip I happily sold our cold water diving gear on Craigslist. I’ve decided that I will never dive in cold water again.

No storm ever came through and the the weather was clear. We decided to drive to Hurricane Ridge in Olympic National Park. It was thrilling for Jason and I, nearly a mile above sea level looking at glacier covered mountains. The van drove like a champ the whole way. Bode slept through it. That’s okay though, it would have spurred on another slew of volcano questions and I enjoyed the peace.

It’s definitely getting colder and Jason’s starting to reconsider his footwear options.  We can literally see Canada and flip-flops only go so far.