I'd planned our trip to give us several days to visit the Olympic Peninsula. Robyn was raised in Olympia, and the highlight of each childhood summer was her family's camping trip to Graves Creek, on the south fork of the Quinault River in the Olympic National Forest. So we made the pilgrimmage, this time coming from the north. From Port Townsend and Port Angeles we headed west through tree-covered mountains beside the emerald-turquoise waters of Lake Crescent.

At the far northwest of the Olympic peninsula, fog rolled in over Ruby Beach and the town of Forks. We headed inland to camp overnight on the North Fork of the Quinault River. After so many weeks of city-ness and social activity, we both were ready for the deep refreshment of wild nature.

The next morning we drove to the Graves Creek campground, stopping first at "The Fountain of Youth," so named by Robyn's mother Dorothy. And following the Mallgren family custom, we drank from it, dipping a cup into the white water spilling down the steep black rock wall.

From our campsite, we took a several-hour hike up Grave's Creek along what Robyn called the "Sundown Trail." Here we were greeted by berries of many kinds--blueberries, salmonberries, blackberries, watermelon berries, red huckleberries. The canyon walls are quite steep, though heavily wooded.

After several miles we came to a huge rock-slide carved out the mountainside. Earlier in the season it would be filled with snow, and on several occasions, it was the spot where Robyn's family decided to turn back. On the return she showed me sites holding memories for decades -- the cement pad where the campground "Community Kitchen once stood, and the site of Graves Creek Inn, demolished by the Park Service in the 1950s. We were happily tired when we tucked into bed that night, and for Robyn it was a welcome coming-home.

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On to Portland
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We left Tuesday morning for Portland, stopping in Hoquiam's library to catch up on emails, but only after we'd eaten the fresh local "little wild blackberry pie" at Duffy's Restaurant. That restaurant has been a favorite since Robyn's childhood, and is one of the few places she can find local oyster stew.

As we drove south, I was a little anxious about where we might stay that night, because we hadn't heard back from my appeal to Portlanders for a place to park our van. To my relief, Daniel Lerch took us out of the lurch by offering for us to park opposite his apartment. When we arrived, he made arrangements with the neighbor across the street, and we found a parking place workable on all counts. An unusual way to get to know your neighbors, but hey, that's part of building community!

R&J Van in Portland

We had met Daniel last May at the Energy Vulnerability Summit in Petaluma, and he became our primary Portland contact, providing us with maps and directions, and becoming our knowledgeable guide for much of two days. With all the fine places Daniel thought up for us to visit, we could've easily stayed another week (and enjoyed it thoroughly).

Next: Does Portland live up to its environmental-leadership reputation?