Hoh, Hoh, Hoh!

We left Aberdeen in the drizzling rain heading north on 101 towards Amanda Park. We were immediately struck by the lack of vehicles on the road especially since it is a long weekend.

A short way out of town we decided to stop for coffee at a little diner. The coffee was great, the eggs, hash browns and toast, too. These little diners offer exceptional service and hot coffee.

Amanda Park was 36 miles away. A quick check of our bike's computer suggested we had 82 miles to travel before we ran out of fuel. However, as we progressed, it soon became apparent that the “miles to empty” were decreasing rather more quickly than the miles travelled were incrementing on our trip meter. By the time we reached the first signs of habitation at the tiny town of Humptulips (yes, there really is a place called that), the miles to empty had dropped to around 33. The general store there sold petrol but only regular grade (87 octane), and our bike requires 89 octane minimum. The storekeeper told us the nearest place we could get premium petrol was 17 miles away at Quinault Lake, 2 miles off the highway, so we got on the bike and rode on.

For the next 17 miles we rode with one eye on the road and one on the computer. The BMW Owners Manual warns that the miles to empty is only an approximation and should not be relied on as other than a guide. It is also strongly advised you not allow the tank to run dry.

We briefly stopped to check our map. We had already travelled 36 miles since we started, and there was no sign of Quinault Lake - let alone Amanda Park. The further we rode the more steadily it rained, as if to compound our misery. The vegetation here was pines with thick undergrowth. It would be impossible to traverse without a machete although the Elk are supposed to to keep some areas clear. If you found yourself in the middle of it the chances of getting out would be slim. Thank goodness for the excellent roadway.

It was with great relief we got to the service station at Quinault Lake a pretty place surrounded by heavy forest growing right up to the waterline. Our computer was reading 13 miles to empty – too close for comfort.

From Quinault Lake the road turns west to the coast. Like the North California and Oregon coast, this was wild and rugged. The high tide mark on the beaches was littered with driftwood: not just little weathered branches you might put on your mantelpiece as a decoration, but huge trees with trunks several feet in diameter and 30 feet long... thousands of them, scattered all along the beach. as if some giant had spilled his toothpicks.

We turned off 101 a bit further north and headed up toward the Hoh River Rain Forest. I joked with the ranger at the entry station that we had decided to visit the rain forest because we weren't getting wet enough down on the coast.

The road ran along the side of the Hoh River, a wide, swiftly flowing, rocky stream that descends from Mount Olympus. It was strewn with timber brought down by the river.

At the Visitor Centre it was no longer raining. We enjoyed a walk through the Hall of Moss, where mosses and epiphytes cloak the huge Sitka firs, maples and Douglas pines, turning them into Ent-ish giants.

As it turned out, the Hoh Rain Forest was the driest place we found all day, and the sun came dangerously close to breaking through the clouds. The irony was not lost on us.

We had earlier decided we would stay in the town of Forks for the night. When we got there every motel seemed booked out. We finally found a small motel on the outskirts of town and got the last available (tiny) room at an outrageously expensive price. Single beds, no wireless Internet, no coffee maker, fridge or microwave...

Apparently the situation was due to two factors: it was a holiday weekend, and this town was where a movie called Twilight was filmed, and apparently lots of people come here just to see where the movie was shot - and the town is cashing in.You could almost hear the cash registers (Ca-Ching! Ca-Ching!)