Yes. You can walk from Olympia to Shelton*

*And not die.

Kirk Ericson | Oct 27, 20220

Gordon Weeks count

Kirk and John in Shelton.

Here's how you do it:

Get up at 5:45 a.m., preferably on a Sunday because traffic is lighter, and start 1 mile south of the state Capitol with your friend, who in my case is John. The two of you leave at 6:20 a.m., while it's still dark. Maybe you point your chin at the sky to see the stars. Maybe the air is fresh and crisp, like an alpine dawn.

You walk north on Capitol Way, past the Capitol. That's the first mile and you're OK. The road, neighborhood and all else are silent. The place is dead as heaven on a Saturday night, as the poet Leonard Cohen sings.

The Olympic Mountains are sleeping. You pass Capitol Lake, cross the butt end of Budd Inlet and walk up a steep hill to the city's west side. You pass 3 miles. You continue along Harrison Avenue, until it turns into Mud Bay Road. You pass 4 miles, 5 miles, and you stop at Shipwreck Cafe next to Mud Bay for two cups of coffee.

You might tell the waitress you're walking to Shelton. She asks where you started. "New York," you might say. You're at 6 miles now.

You cut along Madrona Beach Road, which traces the lower reach of Eld Inlet. You might look into the backyards of the big houses along the waterfront and wonder how those people got so much money. You pass miles 7 and 8, and then emerge near U.S. Highway 101 amid that cluster of businesses planted northeast of the highway near the Steamboat Island exit. You're at mile 9. You're not even halfway to Shelton yet.

You'll see things on your walk. We spotted a wad of $100 bills in a ditch. I picked up one of the bills and we stared, confused, until we saw the words "For Motion Picture Purposes" to the right of Ben Franklin's prodigious forehead. These bills have been used as counterfeit currency, I learned later. I kept it in my hand for several steps before asking John, "Could you hold my $100 bill for a second?" John pointed out that few people on earth have ever said those words.

You haven't put one toe on U.S. 101 yet, but that will change soon. Use the overpass not far from the Steamboat Tennis & Athletic Club to cross U.S. 101. Then turn right onto a mile-long stretch of Old Highway 101 Northwest. Then you're on the southbound shoulder of U.S. 101.

Up to this point, you might have averaged 3 mph over the previous 11 miles, but for the next 2 miles, until you reach Old Olympic Highway, you might walk 4.5 mph like us. This is the section of the walk that could make you question the brightness of the original idea.

The pain might settle into your feet around the midway point, once you leave the shoulder of U.S. 101 and reach the bridge across Kennedy Creek along the crescent-shaped spur of Old Olympic Highway near Oyster Bay. You're at mile 13 and it's time to eat. You might do as we did: Stand, shuffle back and forth, or lean against the bridge. We dared not sit for fear we could not rise. Sitting seemed like an existential threat.

This might be the worst of it, especially if it's your turn to carry the 13-pound pack. We cross U.S. 101. The next 2 miles from the Kennedy Creek preserve to Creation Organics are uphill and you might turn quiet and spend 30 minutes staring 2 feet ahead of you. It's at this point you might realize finishing this walk requires a payment that can only be paid in pain.

Once you hit the crest of the hill, it's 2 miles downhill to Little Creek Casino Resort. You're at 17 miles now. Once past the U.S. 101 overpass, turn right onto West Kamilche Road for about 1 mile. After that road peters out, follow the trail until that peters out, then step into the southbound ditch of U.S. 101 for a few hundred feet before coming up on West Manor Road. That leads to an opening across U.S. 101 at Ryan/Fredson Roads.

After waiting until we couldn't see any cars in either direction of U.S. 101 - we had a quarter-mile view in both directions and did not wish to die - we ran like animated stick figures across the highway. About halfway across the highway, John started laughing. "We're running like Danny Glover in 'Lethal Weapon,' " he said. Our fine motor controls were gone. We continued our laughing on the other side.

Then this happened to us, but you might have your own special encounter:

We moved into the weedy area along the northbound lane of U.S. 101, now about 5 miles short of downtown Shelton. I found a dollar bill. It was damp so I walked with it in my right hand to dry it out before pocketing it.

That's when a Washington State Patrol car pulled up next to us on the northbound shoulder of U.S. 101, as did a Mason County Sheriff's deputy's rig. The deputy got out first, and he was a vision of black: Black uniform, black beard, black hat. As he walked toward us, I become conscious of the dollar bill in my right hand. That's got to look pretty odd to a stranger with a gun, I thought.

The WSP trooper was the talker of the two. The deputy stood silent and staring, like Silent Bob in the "Clerks" movies, John suggested later.

"We got a report of two people running across 101," the trooper said. "One had a hat with a long-sleeve shirt."

"Yes. That would have been us," I said.

"The person said someone had to slam on their brakes to avoid hitting you guys," he said.

"That's not true," I said, calmly.

John concurred, calmly. "We waited until no cars were showing before we crossed the highway."

Long pause.

"Can I ask what you're doing here?" the trooper asked.

"Sure. We're walking from Olympia to Shelton," I said.

"All the way?"

"All the way."

Long pause.

"Can I give you a ride to town?"

"No thanks. Riding in police cars makes me nervous," I said.

"But listen," I continued. "We really appreciate you stopping and checking to make sure we're OK, but I think we're done here now. We'll stay on the grassy part from here to the Shelton exit, then we'll be able to follow the city streets."

And that was the end of that. You too could have some similar encounters.

From that ditch, it's another 5 miles to the Journal's office at 227 W. Cota. The grand totals: 24.06 miles in 9½ hours, averaging 2.5 mph.

Once you get home, your feet might feel like inflamed clown shoes.