On the Washington coast, one of the most important considerations is the tide. This time around low tide was late in the morning meaning we got to start relatively late. As much as I love a good alpine start, I rarely turn down a leisurely morning before hitting the trail.

The coast is a series of scalloped bluffs. You hike close to the water line to take advantage of harder sand until you reach the point and then scamper around when the water is at its lowest. Trying some spots at high tide mean you might get wet. Other spots are completely impassable.

Our first challenge was "Hole-in-the-Wall" just a few miles from the trailhead. The tide wasn't quite at its lowest, but we were impatient to continue up the beach so we scrambled a little higher along the rocks. Slick, but there were plenty of holds so we made to the "hole" and through the short tunnel to the other side of the bluff.

On most of our adventures, the number of other hikers decreases slowly as we get farther from the trailhead. This was different. At each headland, there was a dramatic reduction in the people continuing on. Go past Hole-in-the-Wall, reduce by half. Go past the next headland, reduce that by half. By the time we got to our bay, called Chilean Memorial, there was no one. We picked the best site (aka: a patch of sand above the seaweed) and made camp.

Even though we had started late, there was a lot of daylight left. We snoozed, played games (dice games are awesome: Yahtzee, Farkle, and the Settlers of Catan dice game), and defended a rock from the encroaching tide. Yes, we realized it was futile. Yes, the rock was eventually overcome by the rising waters. Yes, it was still fun.

What wasn't fun was that high tide was at about midnight. During a moment of cellular coverage, I'd sent a message home with a picture of our camp. "OMG! Won't you get wet when the tide comes in?" Pfft. No. I mean, I don't think so. Why'd you have to ask that? So instead of sleeping soundly through the night, both of us were paranoid we were going to be swept out to sea. (Spoiler alert: We were fine.)

Since this adventure followed my traditional three-day pattern of hike in one day, day trip for one day, and hike out the last day we slept in. Actually, I tried to sleep in and told Lilly to leave me alone even though she was awake.

There weren't a lot of options for middle day adventures, but when the tide went out we continued north along the beach. At a minimum, I figured we had to go up to Cape Johnson and John Peak. It was a whopping 161 feet above sea level (for reference, our house is at 630 feet above sea level) so no risk of getting in to the death zone, but towering compared to camp at five feet above sea level.

Along the way we passed a number of long distance hikers on the Pacific Northwest Trail. Our short three day trip was nothing compared to the two month trip from the Olympic Peninsula to the Rockies. The hikers we talked with described 20 mile days with packs half the size we carried. They definitely had the right idea when they were making the miles, but we had all the luxuries we needed for a short three day adventure. That's why we had Coke and popcorn with dinner.

After being dry throughout the previous night's high tide, in spite of the warnings from home, we slept well and woke early. As with all beach adventures, our timeline was dictated by the tides. We hustled across the rocks and through piles of wet seaweed in order to pass through Hole-in-the-Rock at low tide. We made it just as the tide turned and the sun was coming through the mist.

As cars were coming into the parking lot delivering their dayhikers to the trail, we packed our gear into the trunk and headed home.