People come to Forillon to enjoy nature and the out of doors. We had plans for many things we wanted to do, and got going early (for us) since the forecast was for rain later in the day. We drove as far as possible to the peninsula on the southern end of the park, took out our bikes and rode to the tip to see the light house. Where would you put a light house? At the top of a high hill, of course. So our bike ride was very much like yesterday's drive, a roller coaster. But we were still glad we had our bikes along. Some of our fellow caravaners decided to hike the route, four kilometers each way. With bikes we could cover more ground more quickly before the rain came. The last part was so steep we had to walk the bikes and a hiker told us that he had seen a bear cub near the light house and assumed its mother was nearby. We wondered whether we should be quiet and hope to see them or make noise so that the mom would not be alarmed. When we finally got to the top there were no bears, but there was a nice view and signs marking the end of the International Appalachian Trail. We thought the trail ended in Maine, but there this extra piece for those who haven't been challenged enough by marching from Georgia to Maine.
On the way down we did see a black bear mowing the lawn near the water's edge. He saw us seeing him, but didn't seem to give a hoot. Every so often we caught a glimpse of the enormous back of a whale lacing through the water below, but never saw a head or tail. We also saw a porcupine leisurely crossing the road and understood why we have already seen a few dead ones. The concept of the impact of cars whizzing by did not seem to have registered and I stood in the middle of the road to protect the one I was admiring from approaching cars.
But then the rain came and the rest of our plans were scratched. We only have sixty miles to travel tomorrow and the forecast is for improvement, so maybe we can see the rest before we it's time to move on.