By the time I made it to the Outer Coast on Sunday, the especially-high tide was at its highest. There was no beach. I sat at the top of the drift behind the first couple of logs, and watched the highest waves sploosh right over the foreground. Whee. In a 9.8' tide, the ocean is at eye level as you sit on the crest of the backshore drift, but since there wasn't much of a swell, those highest waves never washed across or under the logs to flow down into the Rialto picnic area.
I was reading, not always paying attention, so I stayed well back; only once thought, 'maybe I better grab my stuff and retreat...' Never succeeded in catching one of those sploosh events in the camera.
No eagles anywhere along the way. A fabulous red-tail hawk flying low across the highway in front of the car, showing his tail so I'd be sure to know who he was. No elk.
Pretty soon, I'll have to start going to First Beach instead of Rialto, in hopes of seeing the gray whale migration passing by. Thank you, Olympic National Park.