For centuries caves have filled and twisted mans imagination, filled with the unknown and the unseen, a world beneath our world. Walking through the Ape Cave of Mt. St. Helens my imagination filled and illuminated every crack and crevasse, every image of every horror movie and Gollum riddled scene races through my head at every corner. With my head lamp shut off I can not see my own hands, other than the occasional reverberation of fellow travelers and cave admires voices, I only hear the echoed drips of water sifting through the earth and landing in puddled corners of the cave and my own breath and footsteps. This somewhat ominous scenery is at the same time very peaceful, I image this is the closest feeling to being dead or unborn that any breathing human can experience.
We would walk around these small coastal towns, gawking at the driftwood art and dried sea life for sale in the small shops that litter the small time streets, eating at the local mom and pop restaurants and cafes and spending a lot of time searching the tide pools and beaches for any sign of ocean life.