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| Michelle Dunlop / The Herald
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| Shi Shi Beach stretches south two miles to the Point of Arches, a group of sea stacks. The beach is part of the coastal area of Olympic National Park. |
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| Michelle Dunlop / The Herald
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| The tide washes all sorts of treasures on the beach including sand dollars. |
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| Michelle Dunlop / The Herald
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| The Point of Arches awaits Shi Shi beach-goers who are willing to walk two miles along the shore. |
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| Michelle Dunlop / The Herald
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| Several permanent camps line the cliffs along Shi Shi Beach, where overnight camping is common. |
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| Michelle Dunlop / The Herald
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| The trail to Shi Shi Beach begins on the Makah Reservation, but the last quarter-mile is on National Parks land. |
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| Michelle Dunlop / The Herald
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| Hats, oil cans, fishing gear and other items wash up on Shi Shi Beach. |
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| CONTACT THE HERALD |
Melanie Munk, Features Editor
munk@heraldnet.com |
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Published: Saturday, October 31, 2009
Shi Shi Beach: Short hike, huge payoff
The challenge is getting all the way to the far edge of the Olympia Peninsula.
By Michelle Dunlop Herald Writer
It shouldn’t be this easy.
That’s the first thought that runs through my head when I spot Shi Shi Beach.
To catch a view this spectacular in Western Washington, I’m used to working harder.
My thighs aren’t burning. My lungs don’t ache for air. I’m barely breaking a sweat.
In fact, the most brutal part of the trip to Shi Shi is the drive to the trailhead, just a few miles southeast of Cape Flattery, the westernmost point in the lower 48 states. From Everett, it’s nearly a five-hour journey, including the ferry ride.
But Shi Shi (pronounced shy-shy) is worth the effort.
The National Parks Service seems to think so, too, having added Shi Shi Beach to the coastal section of Olympic National Park in the 1970s. The trailhead, however, sits on Makah Indian land just outside Neah Bay.
Only one other car is parked in the day-hiker lot when I arrive (overnight hikers have to park about a half-mile away on private land). A man toting a large camera with a long lens hurries toward the trail as I gather my gear.
It’s a Tuesday in October, the offseason. By chance, it’s a glorious day: The sun shines brilliantly enough to wipe out any rainy memories.
The 2-mile trail to Shi Shi Beach starts out through lightly forested land with a well-marked boardwalk making for easy travel. About halfway down the trail, the boardwalk disappears and the slog through the mud begins. Despite several days of dry weather, the mud hasn’t dried. On a rainy day, this section could mean slow, messy going.
A National Parks boundary sign marks the last quarter-mile of trail to the beach, a steep descent down the cliff. Snarled tree roots make a rudimentary staircase, one that deserves the disclaimer “ankle-breaker when wet.”
After I walk out of the canopy of trees separating the trail from the beach, I plop down on a large piece of driftwood and take off my hiking boots. There’s little beach to see to the north. To the south, however, more than two miles of sand stretch toward the Point of Arches, a cluster of sea stacks and natural arches huddled along the coast.
A couple of hikers wander out of the woods about a half-mile in front of me and begin the trek toward the sea stacks. I finally spot the photographer near Petroleum Creek about halfway down the beach. He’s already packing up his tripod as the sun breaks out over the cliffs and glares down.
At low tide, crab shells line the water’s edge. Beached jellyfish, which reflect the sun’s rays, wait for the tide to pull them back to the sea. I get sidetracked looking at the “treasures” that have washed up along Shi Shi, including a Budweiser trucker hat, oil cans and a jet ski’s shell.
I linger at the Point of Arches, taking in the formations carved by the ocean over centuries. By the time I’m done taking pictures, I can no longer spot the hikers.
Looking back along the beach toward the trailhead, I’ve got Shi Shi completely to myself. I’m acutely aware of that fact, as I check out a few semi-permanent camps tucked away along the cliffs. Driftwood tables and benches and tree swings make sites so cozy that I keep expecting to see people camped among the trees.
The incoming tide forces me to walk closer to the cliffs, which makes the trek back more difficult. A short way from the trailhead, I stop one last time for lunch and to savor the sound of the waves. Three groups of backpackers arrive and begin setting up camp.
Next time, I’ll bring a tent.
Michelle Dunlop: 425-339-3454 or e-mail mdunlop@heraldnet.com
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