Storm-watching on Washington coast

if you go KALALOCH LODGE: www.olympicnationalparks.com/accommodations/kalaloch-lodge.aspx. Bluff Cabins facing the ocean, $315 anight, including taxes and fees; $25 extra per dog. FORKS: www.forkswa.com. The Washington town where the "Twilight" books wereset.

KALALOCH, Wash. - The weekend forecast: low 50s with a 79 percentchance of showers for both days. My first thought: perfect.

Sunny skies thwarted my last attempt to visit Kalaloch Lodge,which bills itself as a winter storm-watching destination onWashington's Olympic Peninsula from mid-October through mid-March.This time, nothing would stop me from trading Seattle's persistentdrizzle for the coast's more dramatic climate.

What to Pack

I crammed a bag with "performance" garments, a section of mycloset that has grown exponentially since I moved to the Northwestfrom New York four years ago, and which now includes fleece jackets,a down vest, base layers of varying weights, wool socks, hats,waterproof hiking shoes and a rain shell. My roommate did the same,and we hit the road with directions and smart phones in hand and ourtwo dogs in the back seat. Most of Olympic National Park is off-limits to dogs, but the lodge and nearby beaches permit them onleash.

Many local names have roots in Native American languages, givingus the opportunity to play to several rounds of "how do youpronounce this town" during the 3 1/2-hour drive. This editionincluded Puyallup (pyoo-AL-up), Hoquiam (HOE-kwee-uhm), Queets(KWEETS), Humptulips (exactly like it looks), Quinault (kwin-AWLT)and our final destination, Kalaloch (CLAY-lock).

Where we Stayed

Kalaloch Lodge is a salty, shingled two-story affair. Behind theback deck, the land falls off sharply to where the muddy KalalochCreek runs into the Pacific. On this rainy Saturday, the sky, ocean,and beach stacked up in layers of pale browns and grays, with mistyevergreen silhouettes framing our view.

The lodge has a handful of rooms, but most guests stay in one ofthe cabins lined up on a cliff facing the ocean. None have Internet,television or phones. The "Bluff Cabins" are closest to the edge andhave large windows with unobstructed views of the surf. Ours, asmall wood-paneled studio with a queen-sized bed, a futon and akitchenette gave me a jolt of summer-camp nostalgia. The tiled floorwas a smart, anxiety-free touch for travelers with damp, sandy dogsbut made me wish I had packed cozy rubber-soled slippers.

Exploring the Area

On Saturday, an employee at the front desk directed us to themore deserted stretch of beach - a short walk north on the side ofthe 101, then left into the woods on a gentle hiking path. Gettingonto the beach required scrambling over and ducking under theslippery, bleached-out tree trunks piled up just past the tree line.

We tromped through spitting rain and hand-numbing cold for almostan hour, making me wish I had remembered rain pants along with therain jacket. The afternoon's gloom made the occasional carheadlights, colored stone or reddish log practically glow neon. Wemarveled at the people hardy enough to pitch tents at campsites justinside the trees.

We did not, however, see any evidence that a storm was coming anytime soon. The dogs were cold, and we were starving, so we headedback. (Wilderness tip No. 1: Mark the spot where the trail meets thebeach. We stumbled around a bit trying to find it.)

Eating without forks

At the lodge restaurant, we scarfed down cups of thick NewEngland clam chowder (very good, $5.25), fried fish ($15) and clamstrips ($10). We peppered our waitress with questions about nearbyattractions and other options for dinner, only to learn that thenearest was Quinault Lodge, another Olympic National Park hoteloperated by the same company, 32 miles away. What about Forks, thetown best known as the setting for the popular "Twilight" vampirebooks for teens? Her face twitched a little at the idea that wemight drive 36 miles in the opposite direction for a meal there, sowe let it drop.

Surviving without reception

Back in our room, we read and waited for the weather. I triedresearching our next move, but neither the Verizon Wireless smartphones nor the AT&T Internet thing for my laptop had any signal.What did people do before the Internet? My guess is they took a lotof naps.

When dark came, it was absolute and there was no sense lookingout the windows. We had beer and wine and decided to supplement withcheese and crackers from a little general store on the property,instead of sitting down to another heavy meal. I repeated myquestion about Forks to the store clerk, who looked at me like I hadasked if we should walk into the woods and just start eating treefungus.

At the last minute, I decided to buy a deck of cards at thestore, but back at the cabin realized I had completely forgotten howto keep score in Gin Rummy, or how to set up to play Spit, anotherchildhood favorite. What did people do before the Internet? Go tobed early?

At some point in the night, I heard a rumble of thunder. Myroommate, a lighter sleeper, reported that the storm stayed in thedistance. So much for storm-watching.

Going Home

Sunday brought a stop at Ruby Beach, a slightly more crowded spota few miles north of Kalaloch. The quarter-mile path from theparking lot took us through tunnels of branches, some decorated withpuffs of bright-green moss. We wandered up the beach, checking outsea stacks, the island-like rocky columns just offshore. (Wildernesstip No. 2: Check the tide chart. Even a few hours after high tide,our walk was limited.)

Out of curiosity, we headed down the nearby "Big Cedar" road.Sure enough, at the end there was a very big cedar tree. Satisfiedthat we had seen the sights, we hit the road. We did end up drivingthrough Forks - but we didn't stop.