The travels of the Rambling Roses: Beach #2, Olympic National Park, to Hoquiam, Washington Sept 24

67.13 in 5:55.......September 24......After rain all night, and more rain until about eleven AM, we left Forks, and Pam delivered me to beach #2, where we dipped my bike tire two days ago. The rain started to fall again, right on queue. It was about 53 degrees, already cold enough for me without the damn rain, but I put the plastic bags over my feet, and the poncho under my jacket to break any wind and keep the rain out. I don't wear long pants when it's wet because wet, cold, pants freeze leg muscles, so regular biking pants it was. The rain lasted just long enough to get me wet, then believe it or not, with the skies colored 50 shades of gray, I managed to stay dry for the next 3and a half hours. I never rode on dry roads, and most of the time they were really wet. Rain was all around me, and the clouds enveloped the mountains to my left. Every once in a while, the sun would lighten a section of clouds, but it wouldn't break through. Unlike Mike, I drove in rain, sometimes driving rain, from the time I dropped him off until about 10 miles from the campground! Not a fun day! This is the dreariest, drabbest, place on earth right now. I rode about 27 miles to a little town called Amanda Park, where I stopped at a mom and pop store for a snack. A customer told me of a torrential downpour that somehow missed me, and the lady working the store was typically 'unfriendly.' From there, the Quinault Lake and River, I had a little climb, and the rain began again. It rained for about an hour, the temperature dropped to 47 degrees in the wetness. None of this was helped by the drab scenery, which was logged out forests in various states of regrowth. There were sections of rain forest type areas, because I was close to the two other rain forests that Pam and I didn't see, and there was a small section of Olympic National Forest, which wasn't logged, but basically ugly skies, ugly ground, ugly weather, great adventure. I went through a small logging town called Humptulip, which made me smile inside, just saying that crazy name over and over as I rode in the rain. The road, US 101 was in great shape, with occasional logging trucks spraying me as they flew by. Traffic was pretty calm, however, and the shoulder was safe, except for about ten miles along the border of the Quinault Indian tribe. I have heard of at least a dozen Indian Reservations in this Seattle/Tacoma area of different tribes that I have never heard of and can barely pronounce. I just never knew. I rolled into Hoquiam just before dark, cold, wet, but not defeated. The weather may break as far as rain tomorrow, but highs are only about 60-65 for the next week. Boo.