When we plan our camping trips, replete with hiking and canoeing, we always factor in the weather, the driving distance, and the pleasure of finding a fantastic new location. So, when we decided to camp in the Olympic National Forest, we hoped for great weather - in the 70's, clear and sunny; a driving distance of only a couple of hours; and a lake that offered great paddling - 12 miles around the lake, five hours of paddling. 'Arms' that just invited exploring, beaches and bluffs that offered camping for those who wanted to portage their equipment. We drove into the Lake Wynoochee Campground discovering that three sites remained available - two in loop A and one in loop B. We checked out the one site in loop B and found it cramped and dark, so we secured site #3 in Loop A.
We unloaded the van and positioned ourselves in a sunny little nook...right between two sets of birthday crowds, three guys on one side and a woman at the other site. As we set up, about noon, the sounds were cheerful and fun. The three guys - Dave, Mickey, and Jet, were barbecuing burgers and telling fishing and hunting stories, each one out-shouting the other. They've known each other for years, and get together once a year to stay connected. The woman on the other side of us was having a birthday celebration also but it had skidded into too many drinks, a surly boyfriend, and a birthday gift she didn't want - a ragged, second-hand boat that he'd bought 'just for her'. She let the whole campground know of her disappointment. Really vulgar words were exchanged, and he unhitched the boat from his truck and drove off, but not until after someone pulled a knife. The sheriff was called, and the birthday party ended on a real sour note.
We had hoped for a little peace and quiet, but as the night wore on the party crowd at the far end of the campground got more wild and loud. The camp host didn't intervene, and the music and racket lasted until 3:00 a.m. Well, I slept through most of it since I've got some hearing loss. But, George laid awake for several hours listening to the music and the guy's stories - stuff about fishing, hunting, bear stories, guy stuff. The following evening he went to bed early and I tended the campfire for several more hours. Dave, Mickey, and Jet had a few more beers, stories got louder, more dramatic, and again packed with so many adventures that I had to stay up - just to hear how the stories ended! Fishing in the Bering Sea, working the container ships, working heavy duty equipment in the mountains, outwitting the cops, all the pranks they did when they were younger - why, these guys could have written a best-seller.
There are campsites all around Lake Wynoochee, however you have to portage your stuff by canoe or backpack in on the trails. Given the noise in the campgrounds, this would have been a better choice (if we didn't have so much stuff).
Wind along the shoreline. 
Resting after lunch. 
Afternoon shadows. 
George took a wrong turn on the way home, and we discovered this logging road. It sure was better than the dirt road we came in on - a road that was having major repairs, with all kinds of big earth-movers and bulldozers lining the shoulders. The campground host said more people will be able to drive up to Lake Wynoochee once the repairs are made. George and I will not return - we prefer solitude, the open vista of eastern Washington.
When we left for our camping trip, I wondered what would be the most memorable, the hiking, the canoeing? The food? (Moroccan meatballs on a rice-blend; gnocche with onions and sauce; strawberry crepes, pizza.) Pancakes, bacon and eggs, lots of vegetable hash, sliced apples, grapes. Hot cocoa.
But, none of that was as memorable as those campers who brought the intimate details of their lives to the campground. Dave, Mickey, Jet. I still think about them, the guys telling their stories.... and the blond gal getting picked up the next morning by her dad. Later, when we left, that ragged boat was still parked in campsite #1, and not a soul around.
