So, having refueled ourselves in Aberdeen, we started our overnight backpacking trip at the Graves Creek trailhead in the Olympic National Park. The Enchanted Valley (East Fork Quinault River) Trail followed an old road for the first few miles, and descended steeply into the bed of glacier-fed Quinault River. The trail was rated moderate, and true to the rating, it was mostly flat with a few ascents and descents. Until our pathetic backs got used to the load of the backpacks, though, even a slight ascent was a torture.

We moseyed on, stopping now and then for quick sips of water and photographs. The trail had been badly damaged from the severe winter storms that attacked the Olympic National Park. The first three miles were clear of downed trees and re-equipped with foot bridges, but beyond that point, we had to either clamber up the gigantic trees or squeeze underneath them. (In the former occasion, I loathed my shortness; in the latter, I delighted in the same physical feature.) One major creek (Fire Creek) in our itinerary had had its bridge washed out, so we had to tiptoe on the rocks and logs.

The rain forest was stunningly beautiful with golden moss gently covering the gigantic tree trunks and countless varieties of smaller plants on the ground (including dwarf dogwood and numerous fern species). Since we started relatively late around three, the sunlight was low enough to make everything glow with golden light. All along the way, we heard strange hootings--very low "woot, woot, woot" sounds that we heard more with our torso than with our ears, it seemed--from somewhere overhead, and wondered what they were. When we came out of a brush, we came across a big brown bird perched on one of the branches of the brush. It recognized us, but didn't make any attempt to fly away--the bird was truly wild, oblivious of the human presence. Similar indifference to human presence was still intact in the three magnificent Roosevelt elks we came across about half an hour later. The elks were munching on the undergrowth about fifty yard from the trail, and when we emerged, they glanced over at us and kept munching without changing their elegant poise. (The hooting bird turned out to be the blue grouse, which also was the big brown bird in the brush.)

By the time we set up our camp near O'Neil Creek, darkness was quickly descending, and by the time we had our trail dinner of apple sauce, smoked hot sausage and slightly stale bagel, we needed headlamps. (Thus no picture, again.) When we were done, we put all our food and trash in a plastic bag and hung it from a branch of a tree away from the camp, as the ranger told us, to deter the bears.

I poured some water on a towel and wiped off what little sweat and dirt I could, and inched into my sleeping bag, still feeling the grime on the back of my knees and around my face. I could do a two-day hike, but wasn't sure I'd survive the filth of a showerless trip any longer than that. I fell asleep in a while, but could hear some unidentified wild animal strolling around our camp site. As Bill Bryson convincingly documents in his hilarious book A Walk in the Woods, when you are pretty much alone in the dark woods, even a subtle rustle of fallen leaves can sound like a large bear sniffing around your tent. So I had no way of telling what was making the sound, and had to force myself to not mind it in order to fall asleep.

When I woke up around 5:30 (being still accustomed to the Chicago time), the sky was already white with morning sun, and the rain fly of the tent was moist with dew drops. I quickly went over to the bear rope setup, and was relieved to find the food bag intact. I took the bag down, and we sat down on a fallen log by the blue-hued Quinault River. Our breakfast was (slightly more) stale whole wheat bagels, a few pieces of grass-fed cheddar from Whole Foods (which survived the lack of refrigeration just fine), another smoked sausage, and a few dried prunes.

We also had a cup of cold coffee, made with a packet of Java Juice coffee extract and water. (We don't own a stove.) Considering the fact that it came out of a little plastic pouch and was diluted with plain cold water, the coffee tasted surprisingly good--just like coffee from yesterday, right out of the fridge. The stale bagels were a pain in the neck to swallow--we'll stay away from bagels for the next trip. The food may not have been that attractive had we not been in the beautiful wilderness (sky-high pine trees, beautiful blue water, birds chirping, silver-green moss hanging down from branches, absolutely clear and crisp air... the list goes on), but the environment more than complimented the lack of hot meals and coffee.

We cleared the camp and trekked back to the trail head, with our backpacks slightly lighter (with much of the food and water gone). As we ran out of energy, we snacked on Larabars and trail mix, and drank about 5 liters (1 1/4 gallons) of water between the two of us.

Some of the (obvious) surprises during the hike were as follows:
a. cheap crackers (that we got on our flight) taste much better than bagels
b. apple sauce is the best thing when you're too tired to move your jaws (I was)
c. mixing a few salty snacks among sweet ones is a good idea d. electrolyte-conscious drink tablets (like the ones from Camelbak makes you less exhausted