What Olympic National Park Taught Me to See
Sunset settles over the sea stacks and weathered pilings at Rialto Beach in Olympic National Park
Olympic National Park had been on my list for years. I came hoping for big views and dramatic landscapes, but what stayed with me most were the smaller moments of mystery, renewal, and beauty that I did not expect.
Hoh Rain Forest
This place looked like we had just arrived on the set of Return of the Jedi, on the planet Endor. I wouldn’t have been surprised to see Yoda teaching Luke under one of these trees.
The mossy green trees and the clean, humid smell immediately caught my attention. Living in the dry climate of Colorado Springs, I had forgotten what the air smells like when it is full of moisture and growing things. There were also trees growing upon trees. Rainforests are such dynamic, actively growing places. As one tree dies, a new plant is quick to grow right on top of it.
In this forest, there is no waiting for things to decompose. The roots of new trees wrap around the dead ones. It’s fascinating and a little creepy.
Seeing new life growing out of what had died reminded me of this Scripture and the renewal that God offers:
“Behold, I am doing a new thing;
now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?
I will make a way in the wilderness
and rivers in the desert.”
Isaiah 43:19
Rialto Beach
The setting sun slips behind a sea stack at Rialto Beach, casting a quiet glow across the Pacific.
A lone tree rises above the rocky shoreline at Rialto Beach as evening light settles across the coast.
The fresh smell of the salty air, the chilly breeze, sea stacks as far as the eye can see. This is Rialto Beach. The smoke from the fires in Spokane only enhanced the color and the mood.
But beyond the natural beauty, I was also very aware of the wind. Trying to keep a travel tripod anchored on a rocky hill was a challenge. The wind was a little beyond a refreshing summer breeze and almost cold.
Rialto Beach also felt very different from most of the beaches I grew up with in Southern California. It was more rugged, with much less of a crowded coastline and more of a rustic, natural feel. It did not feel like a place built around the beach experience. It felt like a wild coastline that happened to be accessible.
Hurricane Ridge
If I’m honest, when we drove up to Hurricane Ridge, I was feeling a little grumpy. Grumpy that the smoke from the fires was still there. I had been so hopeful that I could get some epic shots of Mt. Olympus, but everything seemed flat and washed out.
That was until I spotted the layers of ridges. The smoke actually emphasized them, creating an abstract look that was epic in its own right.
Layers of ridges fade into the smoke at Hurricane Ridge, creating an unexpected abstract view where I had hoped to see Mt. Olympus.
I learned a lesson that day: everything doesn’t need to be epic to be beautiful. In my current post-algorithmic photographer life, that is something I need to remember. Not every image needs to be made for a feed, an audience, or an algorithm. There is beauty and mystery in the simple things, the things that sometimes go unnoticed.
I think that is also true when we look at ourselves, if we’re honest. We so often think we need to be more talented, more beautiful, more popular, or smarter than the next person. But in reality, we are each created with a uniqueness that no one else has. We leave an imprint on this world through who we were created to be.
A couple walks along Hurricane Ridge, surrounded by layers of mountains softened by wildfire smoke.
Maybe that is what Olympic National Park gave me most: a reminder to slow down and pay attention. I went looking for the big, epic views, but I found just as much beauty in the moss-covered trees, the foggy beach, and the quiet layers of mountains softened by smoke. Sometimes the things we did not plan for are the very things that help us see differently.
Sea stacks line the horizon off Rialto Beach beneath a smoke-softened evening sky.
