Day 5
Good Morning
We wake around 8 a.m. and head downstairs for hotel breakfast—our now-familiar morning ritual.
Jeremy builds himself a respectable waffle-and-sausage situation. I opt for English muffins, apple strudel, and sausage links. Balanced? Debatable. Satisfying? Absolutely.
Mount Saint Helens
We set out to see Mount Saint Helens National Volcanic Monument, eager and optimistic.
Upon arriving at the visitor center, we learn that the main viewpoint is closed due to fog and weather conditions. The mountain, it seems, has chosen modesty today.
We walk the trails looping around the visitor center instead, circling a quiet pond framed by lush greenery. The air is damp and cool, and everything feels very… Pacific Northwest. Like the setting of a thoughtful indie film.






Coldwater Lake
We decide to keep driving anyway. We’ve come this far—surely the day owes us something.
The road leads us to Coldwater Lake, just before the closed viewpoint. We park and walk toward the water in a light rain that feels less like a nuisance and more like a mood.
The lake is dark—almost inky. Fog rests gently over the surface in the distance, like a veil not meant to be lifted. Near us, the water is perfectly still. No surface current. Just glassy calm. Farther out, where the fog thickens, faint ripples disturb the surface. It feels mysterious in the most peaceful way.
We walk back to the car and drive to another lot, heading down to a dock that stretches into the quiet water. We stand there for a while, soaking in the stillness.
It is scenic. It is tranquil. It is the kind of place that doesn’t need a dramatic reveal to be memorable.
Highly recommend.






Heading Back
We begin the drive back, the road winding through fog that has grown thick and possessive. Rain falls steadily, moodily—very committed to the aesthetic.
At one point, we stop at a grove marked with a sign reading, “Planted in 1985.” Jeremy immediately poses in front of it, as he too was “planted” in 1985.
Some jokes write themselves.
We continue toward Kent for lunch at Caveman Restaurant, which has been recommended to us. The food arrives enthusiastically smothered in barbecue. Jeremy orders ribs; I get a Polish sausage meal. It’s hearty, messy, and deeply satisfying. We even sample local sodas from the fountain machine, because travel demands cultural immersion.
Afterward, we head back to the hotel, turn on Will & Grace, and spend several hours doing absolutely nothing productive—just resting, eating, and cuddling. Recovery is an essential part of any great expedition.
Mox
Later, after 9 p.m., we rally.
We drive into Seattle to visit a store called Mox, and it is exactly the kind of place that makes you want to cancel all future plans and live there.
In the center: an enormous collection of board games. To the right: gaming rooms filled with people deep in role-playing campaigns, miniature battles, and deck-building duels. To the left: a café with distinct Edgar Allan Poe energy—dark wood, haunted Victorian vibes, just shy of a raven.
We browse carefully, mindful of suitcase space. Jeremy selects several small-box games that can survive the flight home.
Then we settle into the café for a very late dinner. We both order grilled cheese with bacon. I choose homemade applesauce as my side; Jeremy goes with Caesar salad. I sip a vanilla Italian soda. Jeremy nurses a Mr. Pibb.
It feels cozy. Slightly nerdy. Perfect.
Goodnight
We drive back to the hotel, turn on Will & Grace once again, and fall asleep—full, content, and perhaps a little fog-drenched in spirit.



