*Note this is a work in progress. Enjoy anyway!*
Saturday 27 August – Thursday 1 September 2011
Kate & Talia running along the edge of the Hoh River in Olympic National Park, Sunday evening of the 28th of August 2011.
Recollections and dynamics of a strange and beautiful Family Camping Trip to Olympic National Park and surrounding areas, including the Elwha & Hoh River Valleys including the Hoh Rain Forest, back & forth thru the village of Sekiu, out to Lake Ozette & the Ozette Triangle with Cape Alava on the Wild Olympic Coast, & finally, the Upper Sol Duc. At the time our family was recovering from a series of personal catastrophes and severe financial losses related to the Great Global Recession and a house fire. We felt great disruption and distress as a household. As I look back after nearly 8 years, it’s clear to me now all of us in our own way unconsciously used this grand adventure to reset our blended family. Families are, after all, constant works in progress, and being outdoors in nature was the primary way our family found to heal our relationships.
We looked for light in a dark time. I speak for myself, of course, but share what I sensed in those who lived with me back in those days and nights. Perhaps I am wrong, and being wrong is acceptable. Such is life. As I experienced those years of Hard Times, we searched for anything to give us hope. Ironically, however, we weren’t the type of people to usually waste time “hoping” for something to happen. We took action steps. So for us to hope back in those times was a measure of our collective despair.
Life is messy from birth to death. Struggling to choose freely regardless of our circumstances, we sought to focus on beauty and joy and to let go of dread. This road trip into a spectacular and diverse national park was not a distraction for our family but a trip of purpose to reclaim our fractured identity as a family. We sought to heal amidst nature. There was a drive to redefine what and who we were as individuals, as a family, and as part of a larger network of communities. We sought to anchor ourselves in a national park we all had been to many times in the same way people venture forth to those special sacred places on pilgrimages as physical as they are spiritual. I was, unfortunately, particularly prone towards melancholy and rumination back then as I did not understand depression as disease. These group and individual deliberations were not necessarily conscious intentions at the time but arose from the understandings of hindsight.
Perhaps we forgot the journey itself was as vital if not more so than the destinations, although deep down I sense we all knew somehow the destinations were internal and buried so deep as to feel unreachable. Indeed this road trip of sorts into the Wild was a build-up to an intense Native American Church house blessing ceremony for our then-temporary home. This was the one we had moved into following the losses of our previous homes including one to a devastating fire only to have the “new” house damaged by a natural gas explosion in the house next door. Led by an NAC group inspired by the Rainbow Hoop Prophecy. These events both past and planned loomed over this family adventure into Olympic National Park. At times I felt haunted, lost in what could have been, and at other times I felt joy in the present moment and felt by coming together with others for such a significant ceremony we were in action to accomplish results.
My then-now-ex-third wife Kristina, the mother of my stepdaughter Talia, grew up just outside of it in Port Angeles where she spent much of her youth exploring the national park and surrounding areas with her parents. Her father took her fishing up every stream in the peninsula it seemed. The ONP is also where my then-girlfriend and eventual second-ex-wife Gwen spent the Summer of 1986 back after we began to date earlier in the spring. She worked at Sol Duc Hot Springs Resort during those magickal months. This incredibly varied national park is where the two of us grew into a couple. Gwen showed me the Pacific Ocean for the first time during a camping trip to Second Beach on the Wild Olympic Coast. Years later we had children, first Morgan (now goes by Dylan) and then Kate. We kept returning anyway, Gwen, Kristina, & I, in various combinations with each other, our children, and our friends.
Yes, all six of us experienced many trips to the ONP with our children and sometimes other friends. Camping and hiking trips into the Olympics were a regular odyssey for all 3 of my daughters. Kristina and I wanted to create a sense of continuity and normalcy for the kids, but our different approaches began to clash more and more as we struggled to emerge from the strain of mounting crises.
As such this 2011 adventure proved to be especially bittersweet in hindsight as it was the last journey to the Olympics for this particular Bass (Katayama-Bass) Family. We had many adventures on this one crazy fun trip anyway. All of us felt blessed to have shared these great road trips together as a family with so many wonderful memories of camping, hiking, swimming, roasting marshmallows, and, yes, even arguing. So…Enjoy!
Family tree hug around a giant Sitka spruce! L2R: Kristina, Morgan, Kate, Talia, & me, William. Foto by an enthusiastic stranger with my Nikon D90. Monday 29 August 2011.
We planned for this trip across several months, altho most of the logistics and supplies came together almost at the last minute. We were a dynamic bunch, an early 21st Century post-double divorce blended family. As such we were rooted in Dragonfly, an urban intentional community birthed from a postmodern, Great Recession brew of communitarianism, polyamory, personal growth and development, and a spirituality anchored in Buddhism, Native American shamanism, and Wicca. Nevertheless we were late leaving, fussing, laughing, and having fun anyway. First we barreled north from Seattle to Edmonds to catch the ferry across the Sound to the Olympic Peninsula. Puget Sound was one of the major reaches of the Salish Sea.
The Ferry Ride Over
Memories of a long-ago ferry ride across the inland sea.
Morgan & Kate Bass. Day 1, Saturday the 27th of August 2011.
Kristina & Talia Bass, First Day.
Talia Katayama Bass on the ferry across the Sound from Edmonds to Kingston.
Looking south to Seattle and Mt. Rainier, the giant volcano that sweeps the sky.
Ferry Passengers with snow clad Mt. Baker, another large Cascade volcano, in the distance.
Upclose shot of Mt. Baker as the volcano looms beyond the Salish.
By the Elwha
I first saw the Elwha River in the Summer of 1986. I even paddled it solo like a crazy fool, bouncing and zooming down its mild whitewater rapids in my red kayak, a Perception Dancer. There wasn’t another human on the river, and thus felt a little bit nervous. I put in just below a tumbling set of ferocious rapids I would’ve kayaked if I had at least one other strong paddler with me, and pushed off into the wild. Was glad to have scouted much of it from the wiggly road alongside its banks. Being alone heightened the thrill of danger, but I was confident and blasted downstream thru low water rapids and skirting logs stuck in the river and zipping around bouncing limbs. What a blast! Was glad to have a successful hitchhike back to complete my shuttle, too.
Sunday morning view down the Elwha River, Day 2, 28 August 2011.
Zooming in before leaving the Elwha Campground. We spent our first night of the trip camping here.
A calm section of the river, Day 2.
As a postscript of sorts, the dams on the Elwha were finally removed in 2014. The river roared back to life as the Elwha found itself. The river road and both the Elwha and Altair national park campgrounds were destroyed during the great floods of November 2014. They were ripped out again in subsequent floods and where we spent our first night is now an abandoned cluster of small islands and sandbars. The area remains closed to all but foot traffic as of 2020.
In the Hoh
Morgan (now known as Dylan) begins to set up the big tent. Sunday 28 August 2011, Day 2.
See? I got this far!
Kristina Katayama Bass entering into a culinary adventure! She is a master of logistics and meal planning for groups, a numbers thing I find myself inept at. Aye, much gratitude for her many skills! Plus she’s tough, insightful, wise, and funny. We did, however, argue way too much over chores and what kinds of food and how much sugar should we all eat or not, but found ways to be with all the chaos and enjoy ourselves anyway. My gifts and skill sets were different as they were more in the realm of trip planning, location and destinations, navigation, daily direction, detailed fiscal management, activity planning, first aid, packing, and I love to drive. My impatience, however, proved my undoing.
The Scrubbing Song.
Grunting with Poles. Or, “Put down the camera, Dad, and help me out here!”
Talia & Kate play along the Hoh River.
Talia & Kate explore along the Hoh River deep within the Olympics.
Water has a magick all its own. Water’s alchemical spirit transcends the elemental bonds of hydrogen and oxygen. There’s something sacred and unnameable yet deeply recognizable being on a wild river beneath big trees and bigger mountains.
Our expansive little campsite at the Hoh River Rain Forest Campground. Evening of Day 2.
Me goofin at a moss covered fone booth…Hey! Where’s el telefono? And that’s an Android fone in my hands from back in this day. Foto by Kristina.
Morgan (left, face to the camera) & Talia (crown to the camera) engrossed in books. It doesn’t last too long, tho, as a fire beckons.
Morgan Hannah snorting up the intoxicating smell of old paperbacks.
Talia being a Tater Tot.
Talia, Morgan, & Kristina Bass. Singing. Well, 2 outa 3 singing, anyway.
Sometimes there’s nothing like a good campfire to warm the soul.
Morgan ( R ) & Kristina ( L ), a powerful stepdaughter – stepmother duo. I’m glad my daughter and wife, well, oldest daughter and third wife, and the other 2 kids get along so well together, rough patches & relationship challenges and all.
Temple of Salamanders.
Singing in the Smoke…L2R: Talia, Morgan, Kristina. Day 2.
Early on the 3rd Day.
This family loves to eat! While I’m more of a minimalist, long-distance backpacker these days, I do miss these family camping trips. Oh my, we fussed & argued over things like “too much sugar” and camp chores and clashing likes & dislikes. Our love, friendship, & community kept us grounded. Yes, we had so much fun! These were formative years for my children.
The Hoh. As clouds move in, too.
Water & Sky & Big, Wild Trees beckons.
Morgan, age 17, soon to enter Roosevelt High School as a Senior.
Now we all gotta clean up!
Talia, age 10, still in middle school.
Kathryn, age 12 & then 13 in about 3 more months. She & Talia like to share music via 1 pair of earbuds.
Too sleepy. Still gotta do yer chores, tho!
Earbud joy.
Dayhikes and Rambles into the Rain Forest
Finally leaving camp to explore the Hoh some more. Monday 29 August 2011, Day 3.
Pausing to ponder the messiness & miracles of life via the dance of mind & water.
First we go check out the rain forest museum inside the visitor center.
Kate & Kristina.
Strange faces!
The 10 Essies have certainly changed over time. No matter, however, as the essence of these Essentials remains unchanged. Pics by our kids.
Husband & Wife are focused on … something, hmn, quite fascinating.
Wapiti Skull & Rack of Antlers…all that remains of past glories of a life in a wilderness threatened by human expansion.
Rain forest swamps in the valley lowlands alongside the great River Hoh.
Talia’s in front with unknown man in the middle; William’s in the back left, Kristina’s on far right in the edge of the picture. So, who took the shot, Kate or Morgan?
The Hoh Rain Forest draws us in deeper…
…and deeper.
Inquiries.
Down below our eyes & feet…
Talia.
Layers and layers of life makes death seems invisible.
Where Life finds many, many ways…
The Wild Hoh.
Empire of Moss & Fern…
A quiet invitation to disappear into the Wild…
Curious kids. Not very excited. A little tired already. But in awe of the biological immensity they find themselves within and without any words to speak. L2R: Kate, Talia, & Morgan Bass. Day 3.
Mommastina & the Butterfly.
Ahhh, one of these classic “painful moments” even in the lives of a 21st Century Postmodern Post-Multiple Divorce Post-Polyamorous Blended Fambo…a series of attempts at one of those, ahem, “Family Portraits,” also known as a “Family Group Shot.” Aye, well, Hell’s Bells, baby, Enjoy!
Our eyes are different in every picture.
Time to look at trees and moss again!
Yep, time to look at trees again.
Two lovers mating upon a nurse log in an orgy of Life entangled & fed by death, but, lo, we all felt enchanted by such visceral & silent intimacy.
Katie usually does not want to go hiking. She balks. She resists. And she’s an amazing and wonderful blend of grumpiness, humor, and grace. She doesn’t wanna go, no way, Dada!, and then…she goes! And goes!
Where faeries abide…perhaps.
An orgy of botanical delight as life feeds on life amidst the ebb and flow of darkness and light.
Organic interpenetration. No Ancient ruins needed.
Following the Sun into shadows of tall, shaggy trees.
Leviathan of wooden life moving thru time while rooted in place.
Growing and twisting everywhere life can.
Whoa! Seen too many scary movies to stick my hand down in there! Hey, anyone remember Stephen King’s wicked 1979 short story, “The Crate,” adapted by zombie maestro George Romero for the 1982 horror film, “Creepshow?” The tale of a prehistoric, otherworldly monster carnivore alive in a old, boxed-up crate back in the dark under the stairs in a seedy college building disturbed me for years. King and Romero were macabre influences upon my early fiction. “Eeeeeeewuh!” as Kate likes to say. So…what’s down in there?
No bloody crate back in there! Just lots and lots of spider webs.
Aloft, woo HOO hooty HOO! Cuz, lookit, Owlers, the closer to the Sun life grows the more death there is.
Looking downstream on the mighty Hoh. The river eventually flows out of the mountains and into the ocean.
Morgan Hannah, my beloved eldest daughter back in late August of 2011. What’s on her mind while squinting against the Sun?
Tired and about to have another, “Oh, William” moment.
The wild riverbanks of the Hoh at low water.
Talia & Kate. Two stepsisters more sister than steppies.
Looking for … Bears? Salmon? Sasquatch? Or just watching the waters roll…
“Time passes,” many often say. Really, I wonder? Or do we pass thru time? Or both?
And that’s the answer!
Mountains and rivers…all the way to the sea.
Talia, or little dewdrop from Heaven, whom I nicknamed Tater Tot from TaTa. She’s my Li’l Butterfly, but her Momma sometimes called her Sitting Buddha Baby as an infant, then Sweet Pea and then simply, Boo. Sometimes.
DaDa, or, the Author. I don’t remember, unfortunately, who took this series of pictures.
William Dudley Bass at home on the trail in the middle years of his life.
Three Sisters Yoga Woga! L2R: Kate, Morgan, Talia. Day 3.
All of these girls have taken dance classes. Kate was for a time a competitive figure skater and quite a swimmer and soccer player. Morgan grew up to be a long-distance backpacker and did extended portions of both the AT & the PCT. Talia left gymnastics to become a serious and gifted dancer. While I may have climbed more mountains, kayaked more rivers, paddled thru more swamps, and driven across more American states and Canadian provinces, each one has been to far more countries and big cities than I have traveled to. Yes, all 3 are very different people, each brilliant in their own unique way, messy in others, but out here they’re simply having fun in the summertime goofing around among these mossy trees, giggling, and laughing.
Three young examples of Homo sapiens, a species of social mammal, on Planet Sol 3.
As still as trees!
Uh-Oh, Kristina gets in on the fun. C’mon, getcher foot up, yer right foot there…chin up, now, Love! No worries, really. I’m merely taking pictures of all the fun while grinning.
We are Joy!
Sweaty running woman zooming by distracts us all, but especially Dad. Just for a coupla seconds, tho.
The show goes on!
See? Ta DAH!
Lookit! Again!
Back on the Trail.
“Hey, wait for me!”
Love these river trails along the Hoh.
Climbing up from river’s edge.
Too tired to stand up straight. But we’re almost back to our campsite!
Family of deer along the way back to camp. Bambi still rocks!
Under the Giant
Giant organisms rooted in space while traveling thru time.
All 5 of us at the base of this magnificent spruce. L2R: Morgan, Talia, Kate, William, & Kristina. By a fellow explorer of the Olympics.
The tree sweeps the sky.
It’s so TALL! So HUGE!! Oh, shoot, my big mouth makes my glasses all crooked.
Titans of the Forest.
Kristina, my lover, fellow traveler, & 3rd wife, stepmother of my 2 daughters and mother of my stepdaughter. What a goddess she was to me! Well, aye, sometimes, anyway, because, hey, life is messy! I love her regardless of circumstances.
Godzilla hide.
Talia, a Dewdrop from Heaven, at the base of the giant tree.
Yeah, that’s me, the author here. Gaaah, I even look a wee bit normal here!
Yeah we love rubbing all over sticky bark behind a half a million other people, but we don’t care cuz we love this tree!
Professor Big Willy D lecturing whoever can’t get away about, well, I don’t remember, but probably about really weird tropical parasites & scary, itchybutt worm infestations.
Sekiu & Clallam Bay
Looking out across the fishing village of Sekiu into Clallam Bay & the Salish Sea’s Strait of Juan de Fuca. Tuesday 3 August 2011, Day 4 of 6.
Sekiu Point beyond the marina. Sekiu is a regionally renowned fishing village where Salish Sea stretches further west to the Makah Nation and beyond to the Pacific Ocean.
This fish goddess needs rescuing! She may represent an unconscious dilution of the long-forgotten, prehistoric, Nommo extraterrestrials.
Queen of the Nommo in disguise, the amphibious fish people from possibly Sirius. On the run from the reptilian Draco? Or sexist, sad-funny whiplash jokes embalmed in wood?
Kate Bass, age 12 & soon to be 13, sitting in our minivan at Sekiu. I love this girl of mine whom I chose to adopt sight unseen.
Kathryn Elizabeth Hughes Bass, Tuesday 30 August 2011. Day 4.
Arriving at Lake Ozette
Kristina in quiet, commanding surrender. Day 4.
Ancient Lake Ozette, Olympic National Park, Washington.
One of a grove of western redcedar trees, sacred to the Native people of the Salish Sea tribes.
Fallen giant. Or giantess.
The invitation of a fallen giantess.
Daredevil Katie.
There she goes again!
Whoa!
Owwwch!
No worries. Always more to explore. Ohhh, what’s down under here?
Kato! Well, at least one doesn’t have to worry too much about ticks, chiggers, poisonous snakes, leeches, fire ants, & roving swarms of angry killer bees out here in the Olympics.
Kate.
Kristina Katayama Bass. How I loved this ferocious and generous woman!
Kristina, Goddess of Lakes ringed with Western Redcedar, Bridge between East Asians, Euroamericans, & the Native Coast Salish people.
Late afternoon goddess glow on the lake shore.
Lake Ozette, ONP.
Camping at Lake Ozette & Rambling around the Campgrounds
Talia slurping molten marshmallows. Tuesday evening of Day 4 of 6.
WHOA!!!
Yeah? Let me see! Oh, cool.
The morning after. Day 5 dawns upon the last day of August 2011.
Early morning rambles around the Lake Ozette Campground and along the lakeshore there.
Everyone else in my family are still asleep.
If one expects the grandest views to be only those from the top of a bare mountain summit on a clear day, then they shall feel disappointment amidst the shackles of expectations. Sometimes one must look close to experience the beauty in little things.
Cougars, raccoons, and black bears live here. They are plentiful, altho we didn’t see any.
Early morning sunshine illuminates this stretch of road in the national park. Sad to say I don’t see any black bears galloping across.
Hmn. What happens if I venture into those dark woods? Will a sasquatch stomp me into the mud with big, hairy feet? Will a red-haired, pale-skinned forest giant with double rows of teeth in its mouth snatch me up for breakfast? Or will a cougar stay still as it observes me in silence?
Clouds glide in across the sky and shadows fall upon the land.
I am present to fear, my own fears, fears born of my imagination, fears overblown yet primal fears wrapped around core truths.
The Lake Ozette ranger station emerges from slumber.
Where the lake becomes the river and where these waters flow towards and into the sea.
The interplay between light and shadows intrigue me. Such is the influence of the late, great mountain photographer Galen Rowell. Or rather, the influence of Ron Roman, my close friend from my NOC & AT days who introduced me to Rowell’s work and taught me a few things with my comparatively simple & inexpensive nonprofessional cameras. I need to get a tripod, tho. My last was destroyed in the 2010 house fire, and my composition sucks without it, LOL.
Trasfixed by changing light.
Dawn abides in the forests and swamps around Lake Ozette.
Day Hike out to Cape Alava & Back
The Ozette River flows out of the lake and meanders thru coastal forests and plains towards the Pacific. Wednesday 31 August 2011, Day 5.
William by Kristina. On the Bridge over the River.
I’m drawn to water even tho I’m a Taurus.
Yay ya!
See? I am happy. So very happy. Indeed I’m excessively happy.
Kristina upon one of the many boardwalk sections thru the swamps and bogs of the Ozette Triangle trail system in Olympic National Park. This particular trail goes from the lake out to Cape Alava on the coast and is about 3 miles or 5 kilometers long one way.
I love this woman. She was my mate and companion along with Gwen from December 2001 thru February 2004 and with her alone thru August of 2012. Love is messy. Love is wonderful. Deep love, however, is a choice beyond the rise and fall of temporary emotions, thoughts, and feelings as such come and go with water and wind. Love anchors the invisible and holds the tangible together in oneness. Until we allow all to fall apart. I for one had to learn the practice and skills of letting go and letting go again. Change is constant.
The swampy forests in late summer.
Ahlstrom’s Prairie. The Ozette Prairies were rich in bog cranberries and played important roles in the complex relationships between the Makah people, White settlers, and even the Japanese.
Boardwalk trails across the bogs and off to the ocean.
Kristina on the up & downs near the edge of the sea. Our children are way ahead of us, darn it. We middle-aged parents are too slow for their wild, young feet.
We see the Pacific! Woo Hoo!
We still have a ways to go.
Above Cape Alava the westernmost point in the contiguous Lower 48. It’s also the western terminus of the Pacific Northwest Trail as it stretches out from Glacier National Park near the Montana-Canadian border.
Gazing into wild magnificence rich with nearly-forgotten history.
Ozette Island is so close yet remote and dangerous to approach. The island and surrounding offshore rocks and islands are part of the Flattery Islands National Wildlife Refuge and thus part of the Olympic Coast National Marine Sanctuary, a vital and spectacular region already under assault by those who want to roll back such protections.
So beautiful! Wait. Whoa. Is that Morgan, Kate, & Talia way down there? On the beach?
Nope. It’s another family exploring the rocky seashore.
Beautiful campsites in the grassy meadows and small woods on the banks just above the beaches. We wished we’d brought stuff to camp here for the night. I finally got to camp there, however, when I returned in July 2018 with Dylan (formerly Morgan).
Weaving along the seashore. Hiking means stooping beneath downed trees and clambering over rocks and stepping around tidal pools and climbing giant driftwood rootballs.
Talia, Kate, & Kristina with Morgan barely visible in the distant center.
Backpackers.
L2R: Kathryn Elizabeth, Kristina Jean, Talia Kristina, & Morgan Hannah.
Two sisters and a raven.
Expanses of death drying in the sun await to nourish the living. I find it beautiful, altho not what my deceased mother once imagined for romantic getaways and family beach trips to the Atlantic shores of Virginia & the Carolinas.
Morgan adds a layer and trucks it!
One of my kids took this foto of me carrying the pack and of Kristina in purple.
A sea lion! We quickly realize from the animal’s sounds and movements it is clearly distressed. Something’s wrong.
Our fellow mammal drifts back out, and we do not know what to do.
The kids are sad. We understand the beast is either sick or injured but is dying.
The sea lion is too weak to keep its head up out of the water and breathe. We feel both sadness and guilt as we elect to push on further down the beach.
Morgan found a swing left hanging on the beach! Felt incongruous after the sea lion episode, but, well, here we go anyway.
Now Kate wants a turn. I’m staying out of it.
YAY!
Kate’s gonna have to wait.
Butt scraper!
Hey! This is fun!
Stuck in the sand draggin’ that butt!
Standing up to swing! No mo butt scrappin’!
There she goes. Somewhere. Somehow.
Talia takes a turn.
Glee!
The magic of childhood.
Bird of Dinosaurs.
Morgan celebrates hiking this far. She stands below the closed Ozette ranger station and rescue center. We’re actually out of the national park and on the Native reservation. This is Makah territory, and their ancestral town lays buried under mounds of sand and logs after its destruction by a long ago earthquake & tsunami. An archaeological dig closed to the public is back out of site.
“Yay! Look at me, Dad!” Already she is the swiftest hiker in our family, and in four more years would go on to tackle large portions of the Appalachian Trail as “Weasley” and then part of the Washington PCT as she struggled to recover from a significant hiking injury. I’m more proud of her than she’ll ever really know.
At the entrance to the Ozette Memorial, a Makah building far more temple than museum.
Sacred darkness keeping the Ancient mysteries safe from destruction by light as sacred memories are preserved in stone, metal, wood, shells, and bone.
This old plaque from a previous century or two spells with the olden spelling of “Osett.” How would the Makah spell and pronounce Ozette? The Makah name itself came from other nearby Coast Salish tribes and means “people generous with food.” The Makah word for themselves is, in English, Qwiqwidicciat, for those who live on the cape or people of the point. The Makah were fishermen and whalers, warriors and gatherers, builders and artisans, people who shared stories and built seafaring canoes by hand.
On the beach looking out. We’re in the Tskawahyah Island & Peninsula point north of the Osett Memorial and south of where the Ozette River flows into the ocean.
Kristina on edge of point. This is as far we go today.
Tskawahyah Island.
Fierce currents rip around the island.
Kristina begins to head on back.
Stories in sand older than Ozymandias.
One last time before we take our leave.
Morgan’s not ready to leave yet. She’s a Pisces, and she loves the sea.
Aye, Pisces Girl.
We knew we had to pass by the dying sea lion, and we did so only to find it already dead. To our horror we discovered upon closer examination the animal had been shot numerous times with a rifle. We reported this upon our return, and were informed the authorities had attempted to apprehend without success someone or a group of malicious humans who were shooting up seals and sea lions up and down the Wild Olympic Coast. What were the reasons these killers did what they chose to do? Spite? Trophy hunters? Poachers? Pure meanness? Misguided hatred of the Federal government and its system of national parks, wildlife refugees, marine sanctuaries, and military bases? Or of the tribal police? Racial hostility between Whites and Natives taken out on the wildlife? Just a bunch of ignorant, stupid ass dumbshits without any empathy at all for anything? We felt angry, outraged, and helpless. And we’re not gonna shut up about it.
Goodbye sea lion.
On the Roads back to Sekiu & Beyond
Wapiti! We were astonished and thrilled to happen upon this herd of elk while driving from Lake Ozette back to Sekiu early on Thursday morning on our way home.
The King! This great stag or bull elk rules this herd of wapiti or Roosevelt elk.
King of the Olympic Wapiti, Thursday 1 September 2011, Day 6 of 6.
Wapiti herd in the fields of an old ranch along the Hoko-Ozette Road in a new addition to the ONP complex.
A tribe of quadrupedal social mammals on a continent in the Northern Hemisphere of the planet Sol 3.
Kate hams it up on the overlook viewpoints above Sekiu on our way to Sol Duc. The mystery of synchronicity intrigues & delights all of us.
Kate the Great celebrates!
Kate finds herself.
Sol Duc: Ghosts in the Sun
Way up the Sol Duc River Valley at Sol Duc Hotsprings Resort Village. The white minivan in the mid-center’s our familymobile, a 2002 Dodge Caravan. It was the perfect vehicle for our family road trips.
Katie & TaTa at Sol Duc Resort Village, Olympic National Park. Sixth & last day of the trip, Thursday 1 September 2011.
Morgan Hannah in action at Sol Duc.
Morgan in front of the main store & restaurant. In many ways she is a child of this place as this is where her Mom & I spent a magickal month together in love back in the Summer of 1986.
I love these low, forested mountains that rise around Sol Duc. They remind me somewhat of my beloved Appalachians, and indeed the first whisps of Autumn color burn in the sun amidst the dying of August. I first came here in mid to late July 1986 and stayed nearly a full month visiting Gwen Hughes before heading back to my native Virginia.
Feelin’ the Blade. William preps firewood for the NAC House Blessing ceremony planned this evening from after sunset to beyond sunrise. Pinehurst neighborhood, Seattle, Saturday 3 September 2011. Foto by Morgan.
William Dudley Bass
Thursday 16 May 2019
Wednesday 22 May 2019
Seattle, Washington USA
Cascadia
Earth
2019 Postscript:
Kristina & William separated in 2012 and divorced in 2013. They were unable to overcome snowballing financial & health distress from the the Great Recession-era combination of job losses, embezzlement of their investments, loss of homes, illnesses, & then the 2010 house fire. Kristina Katayama & William Bass, however, remain friends. Kristina continues to stay involved with the NAC. She eventually met someone while serving as a volunteer Buddhist meditation teacher and remarried. As of this time, the three Bass sisters remain on the go. Morgan now goes by Dylan Blair & plans to move to New York City for grad school, Kate is a sophomore in university, and Talia skipped high school and is a freshman in college.
Copyright © 2011, 2019 by William Dudley Bass including all images. All Rights Reserved by the Author & his Descendants until we Humans establish Wise Stewardship over and for our Earth and Solarian Commons. Thank you.