We were driving away from town in our little, red rental car. It looked like a Tonka toy, but we didn’t care. All that mattered was that the car wasn’t white. I detest white cars.
We were heading north on Highway 101, talking about how we wanted to stay on the road forever. Our trip to Forks had been lovely. We had done all the things to do there, but now we were driving back toward reality. We wanted to go north instead. We wanted to drive to the ocean, catch a ferry into Canada, and keep going. We wanted to go and go and go until we came to the end of the world. From there, we’d keep going until we dropped off the edge of the universe.
We were about fifteen miles outside Forks. We hadn’t passed a single car the entire time. The road was flanked with spruce trees. A sign on our right warned us of the upcoming winding road. In the distance, green spruce trees climbed up the side of a hill until they gradually turned white under the snow.
My sister asked me to stop the car so she could take a photo. Outside, the forest was still. My sister set up her equipment and snapped away, the click of her camera jarring the silence.
We climbed back into the Tonka toy and continued home. A sign on the road said Port Angeles was forty miles away, which meant Seattle was only 120 miles away and Los Angeles only a two hour flight.
My sister took other photos during that trip, worthier photos, but the winding road has always been my favorite. Right after the photo was taken, it had begun to snow.
It was the last snowfall of the season.
For more photos from this trip, please see: Landscapes of Forks, La Push, and the Hoh National Rain Forest.