On May 27, 1992, I left Seattle after my first year living there. I decided I wanted a vacation, a time to myself, and a time to explore…. I had no plans or immediate destination, just a mixed tape I’d made for myself for driving in the car: My “Leaving Seattle mix”, a sad and bittersweet collection of music that my housemate, Paul, at one point referred to as “the suicide tape”. I was on my own “scenic route” that would land me in Colorado Springs within several weeks to meet Jason.
     My vacation was one of the finest vacations I’ve ever had (and the first vacation on my own). I camped and backpacked on the Olympic peninsula, scrawling and doodling in my journals and sketchbooks most of the time. I sat by the Whiskey River and wrote a song about the insects who walked across me like I was another small obstacle along their daily route.
    Below is a campground I stayed in for a night that I’d heard was haunted. I sat up by my campfire and listened to the sounds…. as far as I know, there was nobody else there but me. Since then, I have tried to find this same campground again, but I’ve never found it. It was somewhere on Route101, between Bremerton and Whiskey Bend. If you find it, let me know.