Posted by Ken Campbell June 4, 2008 0 Comment 610 views

Daybreak is not a precise event out here on the western edge. Over time, night changes to morning, and the sky changes from black to dark gray, then ever-lightening shades of gray until it arrives at the one it chooses for the day. And that’s that, and daybreak is in there somewhere. It’s just that the actual time is a bit fuzzy.

Before the sky’s final shade of gray had been chosen, I started walking south along the shore to Wedding Rocks. The petroglyphs here contain an artist’s perspective on time, a reminder of the ancient eyes that once looked out over this same scene. The artist left his mark, although its exact meanings are jumbled and unclear. There is mention of fertility signs and one interpretation that has a woman giving birth, or sleeping, or marrying two different men. There is also an impression of a three-masted schooner and a whale, and some more recent carvings on the boulders there at the edge of the sea. I trace the designs with my fingertips, wondering at the ability that art has, to bridge centuries.

I hike back out again, across Ahlstrom’s Prairie and through the woods, following the boardwalk back to the van. I figure I’ll head south, down through Forks, and find some place to camp along the Hoh. If the weather’s good and I’m feeling like it, I might try a day trip out to Destruction Island tomorrow.

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