Quinault Rain Forest

Our first stop on the Peninsula was in the Quinault Rain Forest. We were on our way to the Hoh Rain Forest where we planned to camp for the night, but the largest Sitka spruce tree in the world caught our attention.  I spotted the Quinault Lodge, a quaint little hotel parked alongside a lake and tucked under some giants.  Feeling sicker than I’d been, maybe since I was a child, I told Andre I wanted to stay.  It was getting dark, my fever was rising, and the rain showed now signs of letting off, meaning we’d have to sleep downstairs and I was ready for bed.  I was prepared to spend a fortune on lodging, but being the off seasons prices were really reasonable, plus, we were upgraded to a room with a fireplace and a television for just $10 more. 

Almost immediately, we went down to take a sauna.  I’m a firm believer in fevers, to a point.  Our bodies are designed to kill off whatever bad guys have taken over with a fever, but too much of a good thing can be a bad thing, so I was careful not to overheat in the sauna.  Afterwards, I treated us to dinner in the lodge restaurant.  The soup of the day just happened to be what the doctor ordered… chicken and vegetable soup with a nice clear broth.  I fell asleep next to Andre, who was glued to the television.  The next morning, I barely got down a piece of toast and had to nap after the effort of eating breakfast.  Being a terrible lounger, I desperately needed to escape the confines of our hotel room, so we drove about 10 miles up the road where a hike would take us into the old growth forest.  Our destination, a bridge crossing a mountain creek, was about 3 miles away.  Stopping to poke around the meadows and fern patches along the way, we gathered several handfuls of chanterelles and a few lobsters.  The walk back to the car was arduous.  My fever was still climbing and my body felt achy, so I was glad that we decided to stay at the lodge a second night despite the fact that I missed sleeping in Butter.  When we returned to our room, I sat next to the fireplace and watched as Andre cooked up a big pot of miso soup and sautéed a batch of chanterelles that he served with pasta.  I drank the soup with ease, but ate just enough of his pasta dish to make us both feel good about the effort. That evening, I took a hot bath and went to bed early.