This is the launch by the Ozette Ranger Station. I had heard that it was shallow and didn't have a dock, but that has changed.

Lots of interesting green.

An evening wind started to blow up some white caps and mare's tails appeared. There was 18" chop in some areas.

I anchored in Swan Bay, which is the other boat launch on the lake, but nobody was there.

Watching the clouds roll by.

I had enough rode out to drift into the lily pads. Not a problem. In fact the fishing was better and I made ceviche for dinner.

The elusive pygmy grizzly bear. There was a tail slapping feud going on (maybe because of my presence). After I went to bed, the concussive sound through the hull was more disturbing than the slap.

Morning brought fog off of the ocean, only two miles away.

Nice and calm.

Sketches of Swan Bay and Garden Island from the log.

At the mouth of Swan Bay is Garden Island and beyond is my destination of Allen Bay.

At the head of Allen Bay is Allen Slough. I poled in to this bare spot and threw out my bear can containing all of my food. The Ranger said it keeps critters from going aboard while I'm gone.

I searched around and found this camping area. The abandoned trail head is between the two trees to the left of the fire ring. Little did I know that this was as obvious as the trail got.

Here is one of the bridges across a rivulet. This is probably the best one. Others were a single log or completely broken down. Some of the drops were 10-12 feet, but you couldn't see that because of the brush. The Ranger that I spoke with said the last time she was on this trail was to medevac a hiker with a broken leg resulting from a bridge collapsing. Fun.

One of the highlights was stopping and looking up. Huge twisted spruce and cedars, probably still there because the ocean winds had reduced their value as lumber.

Much of the trail looked like this. Under the skunk cabbage leaves would be old hand split cedar boards. Nice and slippery. I probably fell about 10 times.

More of the trail looked like this. It's straight ahead. By getting down on my hands and knees I could see the old trail and climb under the brush. There were huge patches of windfall that I didn't stop to photo. I didn't want to get distracted and lose the trail. Someone else had the same idea and put a piece of pink survey tape here.

Finally the "trail" drops down into a small beach. I had lost the trail so I just stumble-rolled straight down the hill.

Here's my destination. In 1903 the Norwegian ship Prince Arthur (formerly the British 240' steel clipper Hoghton Tower, built 1869, and sailed around Cape Horn 5 times with officer Earnest Shackleton) was wrecked here with the loss of 18 sailors. The two who survived got to walk aimlessly through the same woods I did. Spotting smoke from a cabin, they found homesteaders Iver, Ole, and Tron Birkestol, all from Norway, so there was no language barrier. The local Makah took the survivors by ocean canoe to Clallum Bay.

It is possible that this cedar log has been here all that time.

Understatement of the century. Do you see a trail?

Is it to the right? Nope.

Is it to the left? Nope. 40 minutes of bushwhacking and I found the trail at the top of the ridge.

Back in civilization, I saw this buck on the shore.