Rocks on Rialto Beach

For Hiroko’s last weekend in the United States for a very long time, Andrew suggested that we go see the Olympic Peninsula. We packed up, got in my car, and drove out there on Saturday morning. The several hours’ drive (with ferry ride) was passed quite well: we took turns selecting music from our iPods, told stories, cracked wise about one another, and admired the Washington scenery. We got to our bed & breakfast place just before dark, and we had enough time to go visit Rialto Beach. The atmosphere was surreal. The beach seemed enclosed by rocks to either side, stacks of driftwood behind, and a low, gray, rainy sky above, while the ocean stretched out in front of us into the misty distance. It was a feeling of being outdoors but insulated from the rest of the world, not entirely unlike the feeling one gets in very crowded areas of Tokyo. Beneath us were these smooth rocks, still in the millions-of-years process of getting worn down to sand.