2010 February 19
Elwha Campground
Temperatures lingered in the 30's at 8:30 AM when I woke. Hence, for the next several hours I remained half in my bag with every layer on: polyester undershirt, thermal, fleece button-up; down jacket, fleece zip-up. In that prone posture I read psalms 3-8 from the 1650 metrical psalter and portions of the sermon on the mount. Fishing out the nylon webbing and elastic bands I purchased at Wal-Mart, I then set to work fashioning a headband for my flashlight. Great satisfaction is derived from being handy.
By noon I was sufficiently willing to venture outside, only because nature required so. My combination breakfast and lunch was a life-first attempt at cooking rice. The experiment went well. Note to self: procure soy sauce, or that spicy siracha with a rooster on the bottle. Too bad it must be refrigerated. Then again, all Washington seems to be one great ice box this time of year.
Having worn the same outfit for several days, laundry now seemed in order. I emptied the contents of my bear canister onto the table and filled it with fresh river water, adding a liberal dose of Dr. Bronners mint soap. Into this piquant broth dove my worst offenders, socks, undergarments, t-shirts. I wrung and hung them on a line from the bicycle to the bear locker, but in vain. Moist forests barely above freezing do not facilitate drying anything.
While waiting for the impossible, I wrote letters, reviewed maps, and called a friend to ask for directions and service times for the Port Angeles OPC. Granted, the ride into town would be almost 22 round-trip, but sometimes keeping sabbath takes work.
Late that afternoon I was happily surprised to see none other than the three cyclists who had crashed my campsite two nights earlier. They had fortunate news for me: DO NOT take the Crescent Lake trail mentioned by the ranger in Port Angeles! They had followed her advice, as I intended to, and found themselves quagmired on paths designed for anything but bicycles, let alone a trailer like mine. Thank You, Lord, for the information.
Evening was peacefully piped away to the pages of Vos's Biblical Theology.
Elwha Campground
Temperatures lingered in the 30's at 8:30 AM when I woke. Hence, for the next several hours I remained half in my bag with every layer on: polyester undershirt, thermal, fleece button-up; down jacket, fleece zip-up. In that prone posture I read psalms 3-8 from the 1650 metrical psalter and portions of the sermon on the mount. Fishing out the nylon webbing and elastic bands I purchased at Wal-Mart, I then set to work fashioning a headband for my flashlight. Great satisfaction is derived from being handy.
By noon I was sufficiently willing to venture outside, only because nature required so. My combination breakfast and lunch was a life-first attempt at cooking rice. The experiment went well. Note to self: procure soy sauce, or that spicy siracha with a rooster on the bottle. Too bad it must be refrigerated. Then again, all Washington seems to be one great ice box this time of year.
Having worn the same outfit for several days, laundry now seemed in order. I emptied the contents of my bear canister onto the table and filled it with fresh river water, adding a liberal dose of Dr. Bronners mint soap. Into this piquant broth dove my worst offenders, socks, undergarments, t-shirts. I wrung and hung them on a line from the bicycle to the bear locker, but in vain. Moist forests barely above freezing do not facilitate drying anything.
While waiting for the impossible, I wrote letters, reviewed maps, and called a friend to ask for directions and service times for the Port Angeles OPC. Granted, the ride into town would be almost 22 round-trip, but sometimes keeping sabbath takes work.
Late that afternoon I was happily surprised to see none other than the three cyclists who had crashed my campsite two nights earlier. They had fortunate news for me: DO NOT take the Crescent Lake trail mentioned by the ranger in Port Angeles! They had followed her advice, as I intended to, and found themselves quagmired on paths designed for anything but bicycles, let alone a trailer like mine. Thank You, Lord, for the information.
Evening was peacefully piped away to the pages of Vos's Biblical Theology.
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Wow, using anatomical verbiage; I'm impressed!