A day off.
On a weekend.
I wasn't getting up in the morning though, had a nice long sleep.
So, we decided to drive to Bremerton and have a look around, and it's not very interesting, so on we went to Lake Crescent at the top of the map.
On a weekend.
I wasn't getting up in the morning though, had a nice long sleep.
So, we decided to drive to Bremerton and have a look around, and it's not very interesting, so on we went to Lake Crescent at the top of the map.
There are a few legends for this deep deep lake. But I thought it was stunning, driving around it reminded me of a Slovenian postcard, New Zealand (postcard again, I don't get aound much) and Loch Lomond, in bits (bin there.)
We decided that rather than 'Turn Back! Turn Back! My wife! My little children!', despite all the abandoned cars and lack of people and towns and abundance of dark, hairy untouched forests, we could make it to the beach, just, to witness a Pacific sunset.
Then, clouds. The sun vanished and left us under a blanket of grey and alone on a loooong straight road. I was able to drive with my knees for a full seven miles.
The little man in the photo spotted Rialto beach on our way to La Push that he'd seen in a travel blog, and had spooky stone stacks and beautiful sunsets. But when we got there...
The beach is lucky enough to have a river flowing nearby, which means lot's of different coloured shiny pebbles. Edward SausageHands felt right at home, and I knew how he felt to find his beach. Mine is White Park Bay in Northern Ireland (top picture, in link)
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