136 miles
Day 32: $0 moochdocking at mom and dad’s
Day 33: $15 South Beach Campground, Olympic National Park

Now, where was I? Oh yes, camping in Washington state. This time I brought Glenn with me.

After a night at mom and dad’s, we headed to the what will probably be the northernmost coastal camping to be had on this trip, South Beach Campground, Olympic National Park. I’ve been here many times. The cut-throat game of Plinko has not changed, and this is still Cougar Country.

Getting there around 10:00am yields a pretty decent spot -next-door to the one I had last year, almost on this same day.

This campground always has a fun mix of giant 5th-wheels, quirky camper-vans and vintage trailers. This is a little off the beaten path, so you get a lot of diehard campers.

Over the course of this day so far, five male baby-boomers have asked me how the Touareg manages to tow my trailer. At this point, I should really make a one-page handout with the numbers.

An older gentleman with leg-braces, a pipe, and a Montana Border Patrol cap tells me he’s been coming here every summer since 1974. He said it used to be a quarry, but officials were concerned that if they continued, the shore might erode up to Highway 101. So for years, it was just an unpaved lot. Free camping for as long as you like. Then, it became an overflow lot to Kalaloch Campground, a few miles north. A few years back, they added toilets, fire-rings, and sturdy cement National Park Service picnic tables, and started to charge a fee.

Oh, and how does that Touareg manage to tow that Airstream?

He’s heard rumors that the NPS may outsource its management to a private company, and become a more traditional reservation-only campground. That would be a shame. Those kinds of campgrounds, by their nature, keep out the type of camper I am, and a lot of more spontaneous folks.

People like this.

A compound of cannabis-enthusiasts with a series of tents walled-up on the road side is on the far end.

A group of teens from what I assume is a Christian camp (the spoken bible blares out their truck) have taken up nearly two sites, walking through everyone’s campsites, screaming “Argo, no!” at their ever-barking dog. It doesn’t work.

“Argo, no!” becomes our response to most things now.

For this area and season, the weather is shockingly warm and sunny. Glenn And Hug E. Pillow soak it up.

Hug E. Pillow has many secrets to tell.

“Argo, no!”

We have a rare clear sunset. Campers tell us of sighting late-night “bio-luminescence” in the waves. Later we look, but it seems more like moonlight reflecting on waves. Either way, it’s beautiful.

We break out the Solo Bonfire stove, and Glenn shows us how he treats his Vandoren clarinet reeds.

With respect.

“ARGO, NO!”