Seattle & The Olympic Peninsula, May 2024

 

| May 5th - 10th, 2024 |

Seattle has been my bucket-list destination for most of my life. And I do mean, I've had a deep craving to be there, for years. My mother used to frequent Seattle for a prior job of hers, and she'd always bring back so many stories of how much she loved the place. Then, embarrassingly, I played Infamous: Second Son, and maybe-sort-of-kind-of fell in love again, just by their take on Seattle in-game. None of this was helped by the fact that not only is The Dear Hunter based out of Port Angeles, but so many of my friends found through the band, live in the Seattle area, as well.

So, on a whim, and wanting to do something just for myself, I booked a round-trip flight to the Pacific Northwest early last year. It was not only my first time going further west than Iowa, but also my first time traveling entirely alone. Not the first time I've flown alone, but the first that I've been responsible for all logistics, lodging, accommodations, you name it.

Just me, unleashed on Washington State.

I left Pittsburgh early in the morning, caught a connecting flight in Denver, and 8ish hours later, landed in Seattle at around 10 AM on May 5th. I don't think I was prepared for the emotional impact that the simple act of taking a shuttle from SeaTac to the rental car facility would have on me. I am notoriously a crier, when anything is even remotely strong-feeling. And there I was, jet-lagged and exhausted, high-strung on stress and caffeine, face pressed up against the cold glass of the shuttle, weeping over some rain and mossy roadside trees.

I think that was the first time it felt real.

Waiting in line for over an hour for that rental car, did not feel real. Nor did driving myself to West Seattle in the biggest SUV I've ever piloted, on unfamiliar highways. Frankly, not even sitting outside of the restaurant I ended up at, staring right across the water at the city itself, felt as real as that very first taste of the world outside the airport terminal immediately upon leaving.

The next time it hit me, was on my drive to my AirBNB. Weaving through the hills of West Seattle, all ferns and moss and steep roads, felt so much like home, and yet so much different. Transplant those ferns for leafy bushes, and the conifers for oak, and it'd be a lot like Pittsburgh. That dichotomy of familiar-and-new struck hard. Didn't help that I was, by this point, utterly wrecked and desperate to get into that room and lie the fuck down for the night. I was out by 8PM.

I woke up at 4AM PST the next day. Which, for my body, was 7AM (oh, EST. . .). For my very first full day, I met up with one of my best friends, Kari, for lunch and then Touristy-things. She's lived in Seattle for years, and we met through the band and became fast friends. This trip was my first time meeting her in person. She took me up into the Needle, as is a rite of passage, I'm told. It rained, hailed, and the sun came out, while we were up there, leading to some stunning views (and rainbows!)

We connected with two other TDH-friends, Andrew and Cody (who will make frequent reappearances and play main parts in my following two Seattle trips, in addition to Kari), and hit up Bangrak Market for some stellar Thai food for dinner. The following day, Kari and I met up again, to get coffee, and matching tattoos together ahead of a planned evening at Andrew and Cody's house. We both got the Antimai logo from the self-same album by The Dear Hunter, on our right arms.

The Dear Hunter had their Act III Live stream while I was in Seattle.

Andrew and Cody hosted us at their place for home-cooked food, cocktails, and a surround-sound experience for the show itself. I'd helped Casey QA the Act III video, so getting to see my friends' reactions to some of the surprises in the show that I knew were coming, was a real treat. Minds were blown. We all sang our hearts out. I somehow became a meme in the Pillar chat during the post-show stream? That was a Whole Thing. I still don't really know what happened, but hey. Lily for President, I guess?

The day after the livestream, I took a drive up the Olympic Peninsula to see Port Angeles, and Lake Crescent, the latter of which was mostly an impromptu pit-stop that turned into the pinnacle of my entire trip. I opted to take the long way around, rather than braving the ferry across the Sound, and that paid off in spades. The views were unparalleled. Creeping up on Hurricane Ridge, and sweeping around the coast, was just magical. As someone who came from Appalachia, and is used to those ancient, worn-down green mountains. . . These were on a whole other level for me. Jaw-dropping, really, to see such lofty peaks (yes, lofty for me, thank you.) and snow-capped crags looming over the forests and sweeping hills.

I don't think I was prepared for how big the trees are, there. I mean, really, zoom in on that little orange road-work sign. It's INSANE. Allegheny County could NEVER.

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The next time things felt real, I was at Lake Crescent.

I bypassed Port Angeles once I found it, and, in searching for something to do now that I'd arrived, I cruised on to Lake Crescent further up the Peninsula. My plan had been to follow the GPS to whatever point it wanted to drop me at along the lake, but my service cut out not long after I left Port Angeles. So, I saw a little sign that indicated there was a small beach just down a winding off-road. I rattled my way down in that poor Jeep Grand Cherokee, and found myself entirely alone on a stunning stretch of beach, staring out at the most staggering view I've ever seen.

I parked myself on a rock, stared out at that lake, and cried. Not just because the world in that moment was beautiful, but because I felt, for the first time, like I was home somewhere. This was the Pacific Northwest. This was the sight I'd set out to see, but hadn't been searching for. This was why I'd taken such a huge leap, and come all this way. With no phone service, no-one else on that beach, and nowhere to be for several hours, I sat, I wept, and I felt. The waves lapped at the sand, the sun warmed my skin, the air was fresh and springtime-cool, and nothing mattered in that moment but this. And all I could think was how excited I was to be alive.

My first trip to Seattle was the very first purely selfish thing I had ever done for myself. Every decision prior, no matter what motives, had always come with someone else in mind. Had always painstakingly factored in how that thing would affect others, or include them in some capacity. In taking this trip, I thought only of me, and what my soul needed, and what things I had wanted for so long to see but had been held back from in one way or another. In going to Seattle, I freed that part of myself. And damn, did it feel good.

To kill some time, I drove to Forks, Washington, next, once I realized I was only about an hour from it, at Lake Crescent. My only stop there was a gas station, to pee, refuel, and get myself a Red Bull for the trek back to Port Angeles.

If you have made the drive along the Olympic Peninsula yourself, you'll understand how solitary that drive can make you feel. There isn't much in the way of rest-stops or settled areas, out there in the National Forest. The road that winds around Lake Crescent, for example, has very few rest-stops, and largely hugs the very edge of the lake itself, just yards above the water line on one side, and feet away from a steep cliff on the other. There are few towns, and fewer places to pee if you don't like going in the bushes or taking long turns off the main road.

I did some major soul-searching on my nine-hour round trip that day.

It's not like I could be texting my friends, behind the wheel of a car. Couldn't call and chat with anyone either, as I rarely had good service out in the woods. It was truly just me, myself, and my tunes. I listened to a lot of The Dear Hunter, that trek, but also plenty of Ripe, MCR, and The Bombay Royale.

That night in Port Angeles, I met up with my wonderful friend Tivoli for dinner in town. This was also my first time meeting her in person, and I had a blast sitting and shooting the shit with her for a few hours. I had the best damn chicken mac n' cheese I think I've ever had, and spent the majority of dinner squinting against the setting sun, and I'd not change a thing.

Just prior to dinner, I found myself with a few hours to kill in town, and wound up at a book store that was one of the only businesses still open. (Still not used to how early things close out there.) I picked up A Court of Thorns and Roses, read several chapters in my car while my phone charged, and. . . bought and devoured the rest of the series literally as soon as I finished the first book. And thus begun my renewed love of reading, from that single unplanned venture into a Port Angeles bookstore. (I later binged the Crescent City series within a week.)

On my last full day in Seattle, I spent most of it in bed. Anticlimactic, yes, but I'd received some terrible news that morning, of a death in my extended family. And, frankly, I was still incredibly worn out from my late night with Tiv and my 3 hour drive home (during all of which, I had to pee. Turns out most gas stations out that way close at 10, and won't make exceptions. . .). I did manage to haul myself up for dinner, and found a tiny little place literally called The Spot. I drank, I noshed on some decent flatbread, and I enjoyed the live music playing outside.

Then, not at all eager to start packing for my flight to Illinois the following morning, I hopped over to a grocery store up the hill, got myself some cake, and proceeded to eat it in my bed in the AirBNB. Not very touristy, but very rewarding. We'll call it storing up energy for a long flight the next day ;)

As the sun set that evening, I got what is to this day my favorite glimpse of Mount Rainier.

Turns out, the hill that my lodging was on, has one gnarly view of the mountain that'd been obscured by rainclouds the rest of my trip. She waited until my very last night there, to pop out and say hello.

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Seattle was, and is, my new favorite place to be. That short trip was the first of many, and really cemented just how deeply my heart yearns to call her home. It also gave me the courage to begin taking the steps to leave my abuser. I got a taste of what life could be when not tied down to the person who had done nothing but take, and take, and take from me. I got to feel what it was like to not have to worry about what awaited me when I got home each day. And I got to feel what it was to be loved by friends who wanted to see me at my best, and my happiest.

This trip set me down a path to being the person I have always wanted to be. It took time to get me there. But I'm so glad it did.

Begrudgingly, still from Pittsburgh,
- Lily Marlene