A Travellerspoint blog

Bigfoot, beaten paths, and bubbly: A West Coast Road Trip 2

Mount Rainier to Olympic National Park, WA: Hey, y’all….squatch this.

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Just before Olympic National Park, we passed the Humptulips River and into the town of Humptulips proper. Apparently, it wasn’t bad enough to name one thing Humptulips.

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Because two Humptulips are obviously better than one.

It was at the Humptulips grocery that I found this little gem.

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When I was 7 years old, I saw an episode of “In Search Of” about Bigfoot. All it took was the calm, rational voice of Leonard Nemoy telling me, “A giant hairy creature, part ape, part man. Indians call him Sasquatch. They believe he is as gentle as he is powerful and mysterious. He’s been seen many times in the rugged mountains and deep woods of the Pacific Northwest,” to make me a believer.

When Dr. Spock tells you something, you listen.

And then there were those eyewitnesses. Their passion and conviction was very convincing.

“I seen something up in the woods and I thought it was either a dawg or a bear or something you know just by the way it was movin, an then I got to lookin at it and it was uh ever bit a six foot tall and uh anyhow I got to lookin at it and I kept thinkin Well dang, you know, it was awful tall to be behind that bush and still be able to see it. It were 7 foot tall or better. It purt near smelled like a wet dawg and none of my dawgs had been in the creek or nuthin like ‘at. I ain’t sayin’ it was a Bigfoot, but I'm purty sure it was a Bigfoot.”

How could my 7 year old self NOT believe in Bigfoot after compelling and heartfelt testimony like that?

So, naturally, when I realized we’d be doing some hiking in the Pacific Northwest, I immediately thought we might see Bigfoot. Sightings always seem to be reported by crazy rednecks, so I figured Matt and I had a good shot.

Humptulips confirmed that I had officially entered Sasquatch country.

I was ready to see Bigfoot.

But first, it was time to get to our cabin and get settled in.

With limited lodging options, I was instantly thankful that I had opted for a small cabin located on Lake Quinault instead of a lodge room at the historic park lodge. I wasn’t ready for another lodge room.

The cozy 1920’s cabin was a welcome respite after our day of travel.

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We took in the lake views, relaxed by the fire, and cleaned up in a shower that did not require the use of special sanitary shoes before heading to the Lake Quinault Lodge for dinner.

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Sure, it was typical park lodge food, but the setting was beautiful, the wine was plentiful, and the views of the lake were majestic.

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We ended the day at the cabin, listening to the sounds of the fire crackling in the fireplace.

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After breakfast by the fire, I packed us a trail lunch and we headed out for the day.

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Our destination of the day was the Hoh Rainforest visitor center, about an hour and a half away, but our first stop was at Beach 4 near the Kalaloch Lodge on the coast. I wanted to do some tidepooling.

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Apparently, at low tide, the beaches of the Pacific Northwest become microcosms of the ocean, miniature sea-stacks filled with oceanic wonders, barnacle flanked rocks, and stranded starfish and sea anemones. As the ocean recedes, the ocean habitat becomes visible for a brief period of time, allowing visitors to see what is normally hidden beneath the blue-gray waves.

I forgot all about Bigfoot as I hopped from rock to rock, staring at giant ruby and tangerine colored seastars and bright green anemones. The more I looked, the more I saw.

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The beach itself was an experience worth savoring: it was huge and gray with mossy covered boulders, giant driftwood, interesting rock formations, and pebbles as smooth and colorful as marbles.

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I could have stayed all day…….if I hadn’t slipped on a giant pile of slick snails and submerged my sneakers in water that smelled like a day-old fish.

I needed dry shoes and we still had an hour drive to get to the Hoh Rainforest where we would be doing a 10 mile hike. We needed to get moving.

The Hoh Rainforest is massive. The trail that runs along the Hoh River is just over 32 miles long. We had decided to do the first five miles, stopping at was aptly named “Five Mile Island,” to have lunch before heading back.

Maybe Bigfoot isn’t real, but I went into the forest armed with pockets filled with beef jerky just in case, because, according to the commercials, Bigfoot likes beef jerky.

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I was ready to find Bigfoot.

And this looked like the perfect place to spot him.

The Hoh Rainforest was otherworldly. You could easily picture Bigfoot behind every giant fern or mossy draped tree. Or a dinosaur. Everything was so BIG. We felt so small. Like we had accidentally stepped into some kind of prehistoric world that man was never meant to see.

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At the five mile mark we indeed found ourselves at Five Mile Island, where we spread our blanket on the banks of the river for a sun soaked lunch siesta.

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I kept an eye out for Bigfoot the entire 5 miles back to the trailhead, but I never saw him. I’m pretty sure it’s because I was carrying my good camera.

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I realized too late that he only shows up when all you have is one of those homemade cameras that you make out of a shoebox and a pinhole.

That would explain a lot.

So, I hiked 10 miles in the deep Pacific Northwest wilderness and I did not see Bigfoot. I’m pretty sure it’s a hoax. I just ended up with tired feet and pockets that smelled like beef jerky.

The next time someone mentions Bigfoot, I’m going to respond, “Big Food? Yes, please.”

Big food is a way better prospect.

The drive back to our cabin was an hour and a half and it was already late in the day. We decided to stop at Ruby Beach for sunset and then head to dinner at the Kalaloch Lodge before going back to the cabin for the night.

I had seen photos of the epic sunsets at Ruby Beach.

This was my vision:

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This was my reality:

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The Pacific Northwest was constantly reminding me to leave my expectations at the door and simply enjoy what was before me.

Okay, maybe the beach wasn’t bathed in golden light, with the sky painted in shades of crimson and purple, but there was a beauty all the same.

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We bundled up against the chill, grabbed our blanket, our plastic wine glasses, and our CANS of Oregon wine (you gotta’ love a state that cans wine) and settled in for sunset.

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Because dining options were quite limited in this remote neck of the woods, we stopped at the nearby Kalaloch Lodge for dinner before continuing the drive back to the cabin.

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For the third night in a row, we found ourselves faced with typical national park lodge food…..but they had tater tots covered with cheese and BBQ pork. If that isn’t a southern fried pile of white trash goodness, then I don’t know what is. Maybe I hadn’t seen Bigfoot and my sunset was a little grayer than I had hoped, but I had TATER TOTS, people.

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We drove the hour back through the park in COMPLETE AND UTTER DARK.

I kept an eye out the window….you know….just in case….

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Posted by vicki_h 06:34 Archived in USA Tagged oregon northwest washington napa rainier olympic redwoods west_coast pacific_northwest Comments (4)

Bigfoot, beaten paths, and bubbly: A West Coast Road Trip 1

Seattle to Mount Rainier, WA: Two tickets to Paradise

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The trip didn’t start well.

Our flight from Knoxville was delayed for over 3 hours leaving us stuck in Knoxville until after 11:00 p.m. This caused us to miss our connecting flight to Dallas, leaving us stuck in Charlotte for the night. The worst part wasn’t missing our connection. No, the worst part was that the first game of the UT Volunteer football season was on and all of the airport TVs were set to CNN.

I worried for Matt’s sanity.

Arriving after midnight, we grabbed 4 hours of terrible sleep in a cheap hotel next to the Charlotte airport and flew to Dallas the next morning. It was looking like we were finally going to make it to Seattle when they announced that our connecting flight to Seattle was delayed.

Sigh.

I was beginning to feel like this trip would be spent entirely in airports and we would arrive in Seattle just in time to catch our flight back home.
After much grumbling and more delays, we finally made it onto our final flight to Seattle.

At least the plane had seatback digital drink orders. Yes, please.

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Twenty-four hours after arriving at the airport in Knoxville, we finally landed in Seattle.

Let the road trip begin!

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First up was a 2 hour drive to Mount Rainier National Park.

With only one day to visit Mount Rainier’s 236,381.49 acres, choosing where to stay was a daunting task. I had chosen the area called “Paradise,” because, well, with a name like Paradise, I figured it would have to be at least moderately breathtaking.

I had also chosen to stay at the Paradise Inn, a historic no-frills park lodge. I felt staying at the Paradise Inn would be like taking a step back in time. The rooms are tiny, the beds are hard, there is no air conditioning, no TV, no wi-fi, no Keurig, and no cell phone service, but they do have free cookies and tea in the afternoon.

Basically, we would be staying at my grandmother’s house.

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Thanks to the delayed flight fiasco, we arrived at the park too late to do the short, but scenic, hike we had planned. No matter. We were too tired and it was far too cloudy to hike back to a reflective lake anyway. We noticed it growing cloudier and cloudier as we entered the park.

This would be a good evening to do nothing more than relax in our room and catch up on some rest.

This would have been possible if I had paid better attention when I made the reservation and hadn’t put us in a room the size of a shoebox. Mind you, I didn’t realize we would be arriving on 4 hours of sleep when I booked the room. I figured our accommodations didn’t really matter.

I was aware that we were staying in a historic lodge and that, just like the lodges in Glacier National Park, they were less about frills and luxury and more about utilitarian practicality.

What I didn’t expect was that our room would be so small that we could barely squeeze between the tiny twin beds (yes….TWIN BEDS) and the wall. Matt could lie on his bed and touch both walls at once. This didn’t stop him from lying down and instantly falling asleep, feet hanging off the end of the bed.

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It was about an hour from dinner, so I let Matt sleep while I decided to clean up. I felt horrific and I needed a shower. Unfortunately, I had also failed to notice the fine print on my room reservation that indicated we did not have a bathroom.

WE DID NOT HAVE A BATHROOM.

While they did not offer private bathrooms, they did provide a complimentary pair of size 14 foam slippers for the shower as a pathetic consolation. I found myself sliding down the hall in a bathrobe doing my best not to lift my feet but instead to simply shuffle them along the carpet like a 97 year old man headed for a game of pinochle, so that my giant foam slippers didn’t fall off.

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When I found the shower, I was not surprised to find that, much like my room, it too was absurdly small. I am not a large person, yet even I found it entirely claustrophobic. It is important when sharing a communal shower not to let any part of one’s body touch any surface, but this is practically impossible when the shower stall was designed for a Lilliputian.

Apparently, everything in this lodge was tiny with the exception of the bath slippers.

To add horror to an already uncomfortable experience, my NBA sized foam slippers started to grow in the shower, much like those Magic Animal Growing Capsules we used to get when we were kids. You know, the little things the size of a peanut that we would drop in water to watch them get bigger and turn into something? My slippers were the size of small Volkswagens by the time I finished my shower.

I was forced to abandon my slippers in the shower, because they were too large and heavy and WET to step out of the shower with. Instead, I was forced to stand there, dripping and cold and naked, while I created an intricate maze of towels on the floor, using significantly more than my allotted share, I am quite certain, to ensure I could get to my clean, dry socks without my feet touching the tile.

I managed to get dry and dressed without compromising my cleanliness and fled back to the safety of my tiny bedroom.

Dinner was by the large fireplace in the dining room, looking out the windows at views of the fog enshrouded peaks surrounding the lodge. The food was typical lodge fare, decent, but nothing to write home about. But it was warm and it allowed us to escape the tiny capsule of our room for a couple of hours. We lingered over blackberry pie and spiked coffee, finally realizing that it didn’t matter if it was only 9:00 p.m., we were exhausted and really wanted nothing more than to go to sleep.

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What our room lacked in size, it made up for in comfort. The beds were soft, warm, cozy nests of tranquility. At least until I woke up at midnight from drinking all that coffee and suddenly remembered the bathroom was down the hall.

Sweet heavenly Moses.

I made it through the rest of the night without incident and I woke up excited to get this vacation turned around by doing an awesome hike.

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We only had one day to hike in Rainier, so I had chosen the Skyline Trail. The descriptions made it sound perfect.

“If your schedule allows you time to hike only one trail at Mount Rainier National Park, we recommend the Skyline Trail, If there’s a single day hike inside of Mt Rainier National Park that offers a little bit of everything to visitors, it’s the Skyline Trail at Paradise. This 5.5 mile loop is an excellent chance to see many of the beautiful treats of Mt. Rainier all at once; from the summer wildflowers to the year-round glaciers. This hike yields close-up views of Rainier, multiple waterfalls, alpine meadows, and the opportunity to catch a glimpse of neighboring peaks Mt. Adams, Mt. St. Helens, and, on a clear day, even Mt. Hood.”

I couldn’t wait for those epic and sweeping views.

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I looked out the window and saw….fog.

I wasn’t worried. It’s always foggy in the morning in the mountains. By the time we had a good breakfast, I knew the sun would be peeking through.

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We hit the plentiful breakfast buffet with gusto. A day of hiking must always begin with a feast of carbohydrates. At least that is what I tell myself as I shovel forkfuls of pancakes into my mouth.

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Each time I looked out the window, in between bites of sausage and pastry, I was almost certain it was getting foggier.

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No one ever hopes for a rainy hike in the mountains. No one wishes for wet shoes or soggy backpacks or muddy trails. Everyone knows that vacation hikes are supposed to take place under blue skies, with gentle breezes and abundant sunshine. It’s supposed to be this, for goodness sakes:

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Not this:

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Apparently, no one told the state of Washington this. We pushed our hiking time back another hour, lingering over the breakfast buffet with an extra trip or two, hoping the skies would clear.

Despite a brief moment when the sky teased us with a glimpse of blue, the fog simply kept rolling in, thicker and heavier with each passing minute.

We waited ten minutes. Fifteen. Maybe the fog would lift? Eventually it became clear this was not just a passing cloud. This was here for the day.

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Unfortunately, our extra trips to the buffet had sealed our fate. We couldn’t skip hiking now that we had filled up on two extra plates of bacon and blackberry waffles.

We were going hiking in the fog.

To be honest, hiking in the fog wouldn’t have been so bad. Fog adds and eerie quiet to everything, making the forest deep and mysterious and beautiful in its own way.

It was when the steady, slow drizzle began to fall that it really turned a slightly unpleasant hike into total suckage.

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We were too far to turn back, and, if I am honest, we still held that glimmer of hope that everyone faced with crappy weather on vacation holds to - that inane hope that maybe, just maybe, it would still clear up at some point.

We were fools.

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I trudged through the endless fog and drizzle, silently cursing every review I had read of the stunning views this trail offered.

“This is one of a very few trails that offers wonderful vista virtually every step of the way.”

“The views go from wonderful to breathtaking.”

“Your trip along the Skyline Trail will be filled with views of cascading waterfalls, mighty glaciers and subalpine meadows brimming with colorful splashes of wildflowers.”

Liars.

Views...no. Splashes...yes.

We slogged down wet trails, through waterlogged wildflowers, past giant snowfields, and up slippery slopes. While the hike was supposed to be dominated by stunning views of Mount Rainier, this was the only glimpse of Rainier that we got all day.

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It’s like Mount Rainier decided to peek through one tiny hole for one tiny moment just to flip us the bird.

Several hours into the hike, we reached Panoramic Point, a 360 degree view of …………...absolutely nothing.

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The view was – not there. It was hidden in thick soupy fog. There was no view. We did see a marmot guarding the summit, however, and that was pretty okay.

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The hike out was uneventful, slipping and sliding down the path, stumbling over wet rocks and roots, and passing the occasional marmot. At that point, I didn’t give a rip about seeing Mount Rainier, I just wanted dry socks.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed. I had been prepared for jaw-dropping views of the mountains, a stunning look at Mount Rainier, and alpine vistas that stretched for miles. What I had gotten were damp feet and a serious wedgie from wet hiking pants.

Despite not getting the magnificent views of Mount Rainier that I’d anticipated, I was reminded of something I continue to learn in the wilderness: I am not in control, nature is, and any effort wielded to make things anything other than exactly what they are is wasted.

Wishing never makes the rain stop. Hoping and praying won’t make the sun shine. Fog is fog, rain is rain, and the views are there or they aren’t. The hike shouldn’t be about the destination. What is it they say? It’s not about the destination, it’s about the journey? Wasn’t that what this entire vacation was about?

Cliché? Maybe. But true. My reward was found in the time spent in God’s creation, listening to the sound of my boots crunching on the gravel, hearing my heart beat in the silent wilderness, breathing the fresh air deep into my lungs.

Okay, whatever. My true reward was simply burning off enough calories for pie.

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We changed into some dry socks and headed out of Mount Rainier National Park toward the small town of Ashford, WA where juicy burgers and blackberry pie a la mode were waiting.

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It was worth every, wet step.

We set off for Olympic National Park with renewed vigor. Okay, maybe it was just pie-belly, but pie-belly can often be mistaken for renewed vigor.

We headed west, equipped with happy hearts, Trader Joe’s snacks and an iPod full of tunes.

Posted by vicki_h 12:16 Archived in USA Tagged oregon northwest washington napa rainier olympic redwoods west_coast pacific_northwest Comments (3)

Bigfoot, beaten paths, and bubbly: A West Coast Road Trip

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When I was a kid, we didn’t take a lot of vacations. We didn’t have a lot of money for travel, and there were 3 kids in the family, so when we did head somewhere, flying was out of the question. “Vacation” meant loading up the car with suitcases, a large brown paper bag of sandwiches, and some 8 track tapes.

Sure, we spent as much time getting there as we did actually enjoying our vacation destination, but I remember that time in the car as much as I remember where we went. Maybe more. My brothers and I would sit in the back of the brown Buick and play “I spy” out the windows and eat Little Debbies while Mom and Dad listened to Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass. We would fight over who had to sit in the middle, with their feet on the “hump,” because mini-vans and cushy SUVs with DVD players were not part of our 1977 reality. We ate scattered, smothered, and covered hash browns and pecan waffles at Waffle House and stayed in mom and pop motels along the way. We talked and laughed for hours on the road. We fell asleep in the floorboard with the sound of the road beneath us.

As an adult, Matt and I don’t have the luxury of time, and “vacation” means picking a location and getting there as quickly as possible so we can start enjoying our destination.

Like us, the time of road trips has come and gone for many people. Most people would prefer to hop on a plane and get to their destination in a few hours, instead of wasting days in a car.

We’ve lost the beauty of driving down the beaten path, stopping at the small towns along the way, and finding what secrets they have to offer.

With modern travel and busier lives, the simple pleasures of the road trip have been left behind for some of us. But should they? Maybe it’s good for the soul to slow down and take the road less travelled once in a while.

That’s why Matt and I decided to road trip our last vacation.

We have both wanted to see the Pacific Northwest and what better way to do it than by driving Highway 101 from Seattle to northern California?

The easy part was deciding on a road trip. The hard part was choosing an itinerary. That area of the country is packed with so much to see.

Should we just focus on the big national parks? What about the coastal islands? Do we go north to Vancouver or south toward California? Should we make it an urban trip and visit the big cities of Seattle, Portland, and San Francisco or go small and try to see things like the world’s largest frying pan and Jake the Alligator Man? There were so many options my head was spinning.

After much deliberation, we decided to focus on hiking and parks, because that’s our thing. We would start in Seattle and end our trip in Napa Valley, spending the last few days recovering from all the hiking by drinking copious amounts of wine in the golden sunshine.

Even with the trip we chose, we could only make so many stops. There were too many things to see and not enough time to see them all. I can hear you now, “You mean you didn’t stop at the Tillamook Cheese Factory??? Are you insane?” Despite my insatiable love for all things cheese and my almost overwhelming desire to have my photo taken next to a giant fiberglass cow, we simply did not have time for the cheese factory and some other hundred stops that would have been awesome.

Sorry, cow. Sorry, cheese. Sorry, Jake the Alligator Man.

We had to choose what we thought would be our “best of the best” and the rest would have to wait for another trip.

The itinerary was set.

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We’d start in Seattle and head to Mount Rainier National Park. From there, we’d head west to Olympic National Park. Next, we planned to drive south along Highway 101 with stops along the Oregon coast until we ended up in northern California, where we would leave the coast and head for the sundrenched hills of Napa Valley.

The trip was epic. It was one of those trips where every single moment buzzed with life and beauty and gratefulness. The view, the company, the weather, the world — it was all magnificent.

I’d love to share it with you.

Want to go on a road trip?

Posted by vicki_h 10:56 Archived in USA Tagged oregon northwest washington napa rainier olympic redwoods west_coast pacific_northwest Comments (0)

Tally Ho! A Vacation Within a Vacation.

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We enjoyed our side trip to Eleuthera during a previous visit to Abaco so much that we decided to repeat it on our most recent trip in August.

With 3 couples, Ocean Tally was the perfect place to sneak away for a night. With only 3 private cottages, our group would basically have the place to ourselves.

When I contacted Annette at Ocean Tally, I was delighted to find that all 3 cottages were available for our stay, but was heartbroken when she told me that the bar and restaurant would not be open.

No matter - it was still worth the trip!

It was a beautiful morning as we flew high over the famed “Glass Window Bridge” on the north end of Eleuthera. The deep blue ocean was separated from the incredible turquoise sea by only a few feet of rock and earth. It was as magnificent as I remembered.

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Landing at the North Eleuthera airport, I was reminded how relaxed and laid back this island was. The airport was empty and quiet. “Customs and immigration” consisted of a nod and a wave and a “have a nice time.”

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Within minutes, we were loaded into a dusty, old minivan – our proud car rental for the next two days. No paperwork, no credit cards, just a cash exchange and a reminder to park it at the airport and leave the keys under the mat when we headed home.

Not wanting to lose any time, we made a quick dash through the liquor store across the street from the airport. We planned to spend the day at the beach before heading to Ocean Tally so we needed beach libations. There was also that business about Tally Bar being closed. Sobriety was not a viable vacation option.

The next stop was the North Eleuthera Shopping Center, on the way to the beach. I had found the description online, “One of the largest grocery stores on Eleuthera, located just outside the Bluff Settlement. They have a good selection of deli meats, frozen food and produce.”

That description was slightly misleading.

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They had a large selection of crocs, flip flops, scrunchies, miscellaneous household goods, artificial flower arrangements, and industrial sized foods. What they did not have a large selection of was chips, dips, and sandwich items. The “good selection of deli meats” was dominated by various types of bologna and a few very suspicious looking packages of ham. We finally found a deli counter, sighing in relief as we realized we would not be forced to buy the 3 lb. jumbo package of chicken bologna we had in our hands.

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Unfortunately, the “oven roasted turkey” left something to be desired.

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I am 99% sure this came out of a can.

It was like a giant naked chicken nugget that had been sliced.

I wasn’t sure it was real meat. It looked like a "meat product."

But, we bought it along with an industrial sized bag of tortilla chips and were on our way.

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We were headed to Ben Bay beach and I couldn’t wait for our friends to see how beautiful it was.

I found myself having a little trouble with the directions.

The directions from Discover-Eleuthera-Bahamas.com: “From the highway turn right, then left-right-left. And there you'll be, at a really pretty beach.”

It should not have surprised anyone in that dusty minivan when we drove past the airport for the fourth time.

I was just about to give up on the beach and start eating the gray-turkeylike-meat-product in the minivan when we finally found the right turn, wound our way through several narrow dirt roads, and found ourselves at the parking area for Ben Bay.

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Unfortunately, we had wasted a lot of time looking for edible items in the grocery store and had wasted even more time driving up and down the same road four times looking for the turn to the beach. We reached the beach shelter just as it started raining.

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Let me rephrase that.

Just as it started POURING. This rain was biblical. I expected frogs and locusts to come out of the sky with it.

I’m pretty sure I saw seagulls and beach lizards pairing up two by two.

You know how people say, “It always rains on the beach, but it only rains for a minute or two and then the sun comes out again?”

Those people are liars.

It rained for an eternity.

So, we did the only thing we could do. We ate our weird meat, almost 6 lbs of tortilla chips, and drank an entire bottle of tequila.

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And sulked.

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But then….it happened….a hole literally opened in the sky.

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I did not see a dove with an olive branch fly through it, but I did see the sun. We were able to enjoy a couple of hours of glorious sunshine on Ben Bay Beach.

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Then it was on to Ocean Tally!

I love Ocean Tally.

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The owner, Annette, is one part beach babe and two parts coastal chic hostess tied together with flowing white linen tunics, seashells, and perfectly sun kissed hair. She is at once casual and elegant. She welcomes you in like an old friend. Her place personifies Bahamian charm. Ocean Tally strikes a sweet balance between a boutique hotel and a bed-and-breakfast, and stands in stark contrast to the cookie-cutter resorts that dominate the islands.

The cottages are bright, airy structures that overlook the dramatic rocky cliffs and out to the ocean beyond. They are stylishly but simply decorated, with billowing white curtains, clean white walls, and crisp luxury linens. Ocean Tally is an oasis of relaxation. It is a perfect, intimate hideaway.

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My only disappointment was the knowledge that we wouldn’t be able to visit her beautiful and delicious restaurant and bar. One of my most memorable beach meals was in that restaurant.

I can still taste the buttery curry lobster….

I apologize for getting distracted, but don’t judge. You haven’t tasted that lobster.

We all settled into our cottages for afternoon naps under the breezy fans and agreed to meet at the lighthouse later that evening, where Annette promised to have some dinner recommendations waiting as well as a boat to take us to Harbour Island if that’s what we wanted to do.

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What I didn’t know was that everyone had a secret.

When we arrived at the bar, expecting to be whisked away to some sub-par dinner experience, Annette was smiling and pouring champagne at the bar.

“Happy Birthday,” she said.

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With Annette’s help, my friends had planned a surprise birthday dinner at Tally Bar as a late celebration. Annette had endless bottles of champagne and wine, a private chef, and a beautifully set table waiting.

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It was perfect.

Our first course was a salad of fresh greens, marinated artichokes, and toasted goat cheese medallions.

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Then there was wine. So much wine.

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For dinner, we were served delicious herbed lobster tails with black beans, sweet potato cakes, carrots and asparagus.

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Then there was more wine.

The grand finale was a birthday cake.

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I felt like a queen. (Maybe it was all the wine.)

The evening couldn’t have been more perfect.

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We woke up to a beautiful Ocean Tally morning.

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Even though the restaurant was closed, Annette (always the gracious hostess), whipped us up some coffee, juice, fruit, and fresh coconut tarts for breakfast (okay, she might have bought the tarts, but SOMEONE made them with love…I could tell….).

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It was time to head back to Abaco, but not before everyone had a chance to jump into the Blue Hole. We made the short drive, soaking in the last of the views before we had to leave.

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Having shamed myself with a horrible “running man” posture, side slide, and butt splat on my previous jump, I had no foolish intentions of trying to redeem myself with a second go. I know my limitations and considered myself lucky that I emerged from the water the first time with all of my appendages still attached.

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However, Mr. Olympic felt the need to do it again just to prove he could do it perfectly a second time.

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I had no doubt.

And, we had newbies who wanted to give it a try. We had a couple of takers who made the leap of faith.

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Much like that leap into the Blue Hole, our trip to Ocean Tally had been exhilarating and glorious, but over in the blink of an eye.

Our love affair was brief, but intense. I know I'll be back. Until next time, Ocean Tally!

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Posted by vicki_h 09:14 Archived in Bahamas Tagged ocean bahamas eleuthera tally Comments (1)

Oops, I did it again.

I just can't satiate my Guana Cay addiction.

So I dove in for another taste.

How about we just hit the highlights?

The food: If it's battered, deep fried, golden brown, carb laden, and swimming in fat on a paper plate, I'll eat it in the Abacos. Just to keep my mom off my back, I throw in a green thing every now and then.

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The drinks: Because you need to keep your blood alcohol level up to ward off those pesky mosquitoes.

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The sunrises: There simply aren't words.

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The sunsets: So beautiful they make my heart hurt.

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Nippers: Because it's not a trip to Guana without Sunday Funday!

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The Wildlife: Sharks and stingrays and screaming! Oh my!

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Blue water and white sand: Because that is the recipe for happiness, my friends.

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The colors of the Bahamas: Because nothing brightens my day like a little pop of color.

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Good friends and good times: That's what a trip to Abaco is all about.

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Before I go, I want to give a special "shout out" to Shawna Deal of Easy Touch Massage from Marsh Harbour (easytouchmassage@yahoo.com or find her on Facebook!). Us "girls" wanted massages and with no spa on Guana, we were able to get Shawn to come over for a half day to give us in home massages. While Bikini Hut is not, in fact, a Bikini Store, it apparently can operate quite well as a part-time spa, complete with mimosas and Shawna's magic hands. I recommend contacting her if you ever have a few folks that want a massage on the cays or if you are going to be in Marsh Harbour.

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See....I'm not always long winded.

I will tell you one story. On our last day of our week in Abaco, a sign appeared to me in the sky.

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In case you can't all see what is OBVIOUS, it was clearly a giant lobster.

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I took it as a sign that we weren't supposed to leave.

Obviously, Matt didn't agree with me, because I am home now.

Sigh.

Posted by vicki_h 10:46 Archived in Bahamas Tagged islands tropical bahamas nippers abaco elbow_cay guana_cay grabbers marsh_harbour lubbers_landing Comments (7)

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