My wife’s family has been camping on the Hoh for generations, the river is wild, no dams. Because the river bar is gravel building large campfires is really no big deal, we usually build a bonfire that keeps the whole camp warm, in the morning there’s nothing left but ashes. For years I would listen to the families tell tall tales, stories of grandpa trying to drive his Jeep through the river, how he shot a dollar out of the air. I’ve always noticed coming back to the bar how little it has changed, the river always washes away all traces we were ever there, no ashes, no rocks moved, it’s always new. This year it was much quieter without my father in law, a forester, and man of the Peninsula. He lived all his life in this area, looking at the beauty here I can see why he never felt the need to travel. We’ll miss him.

Greg

Hoh River Bottoms