Everywhere except just on the Olympic Coast and in the mountains, low clouds, patches of thick fog, an 'Air Stagnation Advisory'. It's so foggy at the moment here in town you can barely see the street lights. Cliff Mass explains it all, including a great satellite image. And at the ocean, it's paradise.
All the drift had been shifted, thrown over into the back side of the barrier dune; huge new logs nearly buried already in freshly thrown cobbles; lots of fresh red drift on the shore. Madrone, red alder, cedar. The tide was coming in. I wore knee boots so I could be down in the swash zone and not have to run from every wave: within two minutes of hitting the beach I'd gotten careless and the water was over my boot tops. A few minutes later, composing a portrait of a red alder log with my back to the ocean, it really got me, wet to the waist and boots full to the brim with water. It was hard to mind, the day was so gorgeous. So much beautiful sunlit foam.
At the corner of the Rialto Beach parking lot, where for a moment the sightline is all the way up the Bogachiel River to the Olympus massif, there were the snowy mountains on the horizon in the same clear sunshine. Stopped by the river overlook to look for a seal, and saw him. A strange raucous squawking flew by and landed on the branch of a tree lying by the river: great blue heron. I'd thought they were silent. Imagine so beautiful a bird with such a strident voice. Sunshine continued all the way to the east end of Lake Crescent, where the fog was pouring down over the divide separating it from Lake Sutherland as evening came on. It was late, I was in get-home-before-dark-in-thick-fog mode, and didn't backtrack for a place to take a photo.
Boots spent the night on a chair by the heater register, and are nearly dry inside. Good thing. I think I have to go back today.
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