Misdirection

It was day 3 of a 5-day backpack and I had lost the trail. The “trail” I had been following petered out to nothing more than an animal track in the alpine tundra. The rest of my party were coming up behind me and my mind racing as to what to do. And this was supposed to be a nice easy trip too.

After my dog ate a hole in the dry wall large enough for a herd of wildebeest to migrate through, my sister and I started backpacking during the doggy-terrifying 4th of July holiday. This year we had decided on a 5-day excursion in the Buckhorn Wilderness of Olympic National Forest and invited a couple of friends and another dog to join us. 

We planned on 5 days for a 30-mile, leisurely paced, loop that our friends who weren't accustomed to backpacking would find enjoyable. It had been 20 years since Holly had backpacked and this would be Evie's 1st time. Our route took us up Copper Creek to Buckhorn Lake then over to Marmot Pass and out the Upper Dungeness. This route had the added bonus of being far enough away from fireworks to protect the drywall from the dog.

We gathered mid-morning on day one and my sister, Kristi, handed to each of us a  map she printed off from AllTrails with our route highlighted. We made it to our 1^st night’s camp near Tubal Cain Mine easily and explored the area. Day 2 found us at Buckhorn Lake, relaxing in view of Buckhorn Mountain.

Everything on Day 3 started out perfectly. Wispy clouds drifted in and around Buckhorn Mountain, but the weather was warm and sunny while we broke down camp. I had become the defacto leader of the group since my dog, Zillah, and I were in front and I had traveled most of the route before. Day 3 would be on the section of trail I had never hiked. I folded my map to the section we were hiking and stuffed it in an easily accessible pocket. Really, I didn’t think we’d need the map as most trails in the area are well-marked.

We hiked out from the lake to the main trail and continued our climb to Marmot Pass, our expected camp for the night. Zillah and I led the way and soon Kristi, Evie and Holly were several switchbacks behind. By late morning, I had climbed beyond most of the trees and sat to wait for the rest of my group. I watched other hikers and backpackers pass me on their way up or down keeping an eye out on their route so I could point it out to my friends and feel more confident as we continued. I also watched the clouds as they had been building throughout the morning often obscuring Buckhorn Mountain and the ridges on its flanks. It was still sunny where we were but the wind was picking up and I wondered if we might need to push on to Boulder Camp further along on our route.

Just before the rest of my group met up with me, a small group of day-hikers came upon me - they told me they were camping at Camp Mystery just below Marmot Pass and were heading down to Buckhorn Lake. We exchanged information and they continued on. Once we all gathered together, we found a secluded area out of the wind for lunch. I mentioned the hikers and pointed out the route that we’d be taking – just a few more switchbacks and over a little knoll then it would be relatively flat for a bit.

At some point after topping out over the knoll, I spotted a trail that I believed to be our trail – the trail we would never reach. But we had reached the alpine tundra and were enjoying a stroll through the higher altitude. The clouds covered most of the sky above us, occasionally drifting down to shroud the landscape in a misty fog. And it was here I lost the trail.

My first error was following the group of day-hikers I had talked to earlier. They passed us on their return and I thought that they must know where they’re going. I was paying more attention to where they were going than where the trail was going. They ended up going cross country and climbing up on a ridge along Buckhorn Mountain. I began to realize that they weren’t going the direction we wanted to go.

Our second error was to think we still had to go forward instead of turning back to the last place we knew where we were. I suggested we skirt around the snow patch that blocked our way and continue on, while Holly found what looked like a trail off on one side. And instead of turning back, we too climbed up to the ridge along Buckhorn Mountain and again lost the trail.

By now the cold wind had picked up and the clouds around us were alternating between a thick fog and a thin fog. There was no way for me to get our bearing by compass. Holly again scouted and found what this time looked like a real trail but which way should we go. Without a line of sight, I couldn’t get my bearing or figure out where we were on the map or which way we would need to go to get to Marmot Pass. I was figuring we go right on the trail but after my previous misdirections, my friends were hesitant to believe me. And I really couldn’t blame them for my confidence was shaken.

Our relief came as a pair of hikers approached us from the left. They had also made the mistake of climbing the ridge as we had and were hesitant to go the same route back to Buckhorn Lake. I explained our dilemma and asked if they knew which way Marmot Pass was but they weren’t positive. We pulled out our maps and he pulled out his altimeter. We were 600 feet above the pass.

We turned right to head down the trail not up. Soon we were out of the clouds and heading to Marmot Pass. One look at the angry clouds over the pass and the frigid wind coming through, we opted to continue to Boulder Camp for the night. The rest of our trip was quiet and uneventful.

One happy occurrence while we descended off Buckhorn Mountain, we met a nanny goat, her kid and a juvenile. It was a thrilling moment for Evie and Holly who hadn’t been that close to goats before.

Lessons learned:

1.     Don’t blindly follow people on the trail. They may not be going the same direction you are or they might not know where they’re going themselves. If I had stopped to evaluate the other group, I would have taken better note that only one of them seemed well-prepared to be out hiking.

2.     Do drop your pack if necessary and scout behind you. We may have lost the trail only a few hundred yards back. If any one of us had been willing to do that, we may have found the point where we went off trail.

3.     Altimeters aren’t only for climbers. If I had one I might have noticed earlier that we should have been dropping in elevation instead of climbing. We would have had more information to make decisions earlier.

I’m still curious as to where we lost the trail. I’d like to make a reverse trip soon so I can find the trail.

Heidi's Hotspots: Olympic Peninsula: The Hoh Rainforest

Admittedly, the Hoh Rainforest is one of my favorite places on earth.

That's a BIG statement!

I have been to all manner of sights and locales and yet I can right now, right here tell you that my favorite place on earth is a big wet temperate rainforest just miles from the Pacific Ocean.

Yes. For me, the Arizona deserts, Utah Canyons, Canada's mountains all hold special places in my heart and dreams but my go-to happy place is the quiet yet frenzied world that is the Hoh.

Here you can be lost and found in the same breath. Exalt in the openness of nature and feel an overt claustrophobia. You can listen to the flute-like voices of elk with a percussion of dripping from moss and here is where you'll find the quietest inch. You can spend a lifetime visiting yet find something new tucked away among the most familiar. When you are lonely, the moss laden trees become fast friends.

Come here on an overcast day. Even with the thick overstory, sunlight streaming through the leaves can create harsh light and shadows on the scenery. An overcast day gives you soft light, no harsh shadows with blown out highlights. But finding a cloudy day shouldn't be too hard. With rainfall as much as 12 feet a year, there are plenty of grey days. So also bring something to protect yourself and your camera from the wet elements. Even when it's not raining, water drips off the curtains of moss.

If photographing in a forest is a little intimidating, try focusing on small forest vignettes. The Hoh is filled with so much life that the idea of simplifying your image at first mind boggling. There are huge trees everywhere you turn. How do  you create simplicity when there is so much in your viewfinder?

Well, start small with mushrooms and moss.

Look to your feet for tiny things growing and living there.

Find the patterns in the understory.

Point your camera straight up into the top story.

Use a wide angle to get as much in as possible but then use a telephoto to compress the elements together.

Set up your tripod for multiple exposures then blend them later.

Hand hold your camera with a slow shutter speed for a more impressionistic image.

I other words, play. I give you permission to just play with your camera while in the Hoh. Maybe you'll see why this place has become my favorite place.

To get there: From Forks, drive south on Highway 101 to the Hoh River Road. Follow the road to the end. There is a National Park Entrance Fee to access the Hoh Rain Forest.

For more information on visiting the Hoh and Olympic National Park, please visit their website.

A Grand Hike

Grand Ridge/Grand Valley, 8/22/09, 12 miles, 2500 elevation

Starting from Obstruction Point in the Olympics can make for a long day, but the trails leading from the end of the road there are marvelous to behold. And when you link several together in a large loop, you come away with a very satisfying hike. I've been wanting to share this special place with others and my opportunity came when we began looking at hikes for the Mountaineers' Conditioning Hike Series.

I was first introduced to this area many years ago by my sister. She was intrigued with this road that our family always seemed to avoid when we were children. After our steep descent on the road, we understood. Mother was afraid of heights, and to get out to the trails the road wound along some very steep cliffs. At least they would have seemed that way to her. We found a loop on the map and decided that Badger Valley to Grand Lake and over Grand Ridge would be a wonderful way to spend the day. So we toughed out the road, toughed out the trail, and toughed out the drive. In the end we were both taken by the beauty and it became one of our favorites.

I later did sections of the trip with Michael. He too became so enamored with the area that a fifteen hour day to get there and back was never questioned. We had met one of the biggest marmots ever while hiking these trails along with exquisite flower displays. (No wonder the marmot was so huge.) But we would run into several obstacles when thinking who we could introduce this trail to - not the least of which was the difficulty of the primitive trail from Elk Mountain to Badger Valley. Finally, we decided to give the CHS class a chance. Students jumped at the opportunity.

To start off on our route, we had to traverse what is called the head-wall along a narrow path of flattened talus. We took it slow to make sure our hikers had their feet under them. But the hesitation some felt gave way to delight as we crested the ridge to views of Mt Baker, Vancouver Island and the Strait of Juan de Fuca. We would have stayed on the ridge a little longer, however autumn was felt in the wind and we again took refuge on the trail behind the ridge. Not long after we met up with a fat-butt marmot walking on our trail. He stopped to pose a while then waddled off the trail to let us pass.

The way down to Badger Meadows from here is along an almost abandoned primitive trail - no longer maintained by the park, just the few dozen hiking boots that dare follow the little dotted line on the map. This was the section that made Michael & I hesitate about bringing others with us. The way is full of loose rock and dirt, steep inclines and frightening drop-offs. Everyone seemed ready if not a little reticent, so with Michael in the rear to help anyone along and to chat with them to keep their minds off what they were walking on, we slowly started downward. It took us longer than I expected but we kept the pace slow and I would coach people down the rougher spots as Michael offered reassuring words from behind. And soon we were walking through the meadows that in July are filled with flowers and marmots. Some of our hikers were ecstatic - they would never have thought they could have hiked a trail as forgotten as that one. And yet they did - smiles were shared all around.

We stopped in a wide meadow surrounded by mountains for lunch. We ate as we gazed upward at these mighty structures. The Olympics may not be as grand as the Sierras or the Rockies, but they never seem to fail to impress. A little more downhill and we were on our way to climbing up along Grand Creek to the lake. The afternoon was moving along to the sounds of laughter as we shared stories on the lake shore. One of our members even decided a swim would be just the thing before climbing out of the valley. And a climb it was going to be.

My first hike with Kristi left us both sweaty, exhausted and defeated. So much so that we vowed to make our impression on the "mountain" as soon as we reached the top. Our impression was in the form of posing victoriously topless. We made no such vows this time except what we'd be ordering at the Mexican restaurant when we got to town. A slow and steady climb got us to the top and along the ridge to the parking lot. Along the way are views of the interior of the the park and Mt Olympus sitting grandly in the center as if holding court. I marvel at the fact that no matter how tired a woman is when she gets to the trailhead, she still has enough energy to run to the outhouse. As we drove away, the resident buck came out to watch us leave before sniffing around looking for hand-outs.

For some, this was their toughest hike yet. As I looked around the table during our late dinner and saw the smiles and listened to the laughter, I knew that these hikers were as proud of themselves as I was that first trip so long ago. The milestones and accomplishments were different for each of us and we knew we had done something good with our day.

One of our Favorites

Marmot Pass, 7/19/09, 11 miles, 3700 elevation

After hiking this trail last year, Michael & I had to add it to our favorite hikes list. The trail is a steady climb along the Quilcene River, through old growth forests and wildflower filled meadows to magnificent views of the Olympic Mountains. Hikes just can't get better than this.

Clouds passed overhead, promising a cool climb through the trees. Other groups passed us as we passed them on rest stops. Marmot Pass is a popular destination as it's a start to other adventures in the Park and Buckhorn Wilderness. Our plan was to just head to the pass for lunch and admire the view before heading back.

The flowers were a little lackluster this year - a disappointment from my high hopes after seeing the beargrass the previous weekends and the flowers from last season. But the views were as amazing as ever - especially with the clouds blowing in and around the peaks. I left Michael near the pass as I climbed higher for better views and a little more adventure. I ended at a plateau filled with lichens and alpine wildflowers - and a stiff cold wind. I didn't stay long before heading back down to Michael and relative warmth of less wind.

On the way back down, we stopped near the river to watch the sun sparkle off the moss hanging from the trees and the ripples in the river. Marmot Pass will stay on our favorite hikes list.

Scouting Trip

Ebey's Landing, 3/1/09, 4 miles, 250 elevation

On a blustery type of a day, Michael & I went to scout a trail we'd be leading a hike on later in the month - Ebey's Landing. I had often read about this little trail and the bounty of flowers in the spring. March is a little early for flowers, but we scheduled the trip anyway to accommodate our Mountaineers Hike Mentor. To become hike leaders for the Mountaineers, we had to lead a hike under the supervision of a certified hike leader.

We packed extra layers expecting a bone-chilling wind and made sure the dogs had their coats, but those were not needed. e were peeling off layers barely a mile into the hike. The sun even glowed brightly behind a thin veil of clouds. The wind never materialized - amazing as we hiked along a high bluff over-looking the Strait of Juan de Fuca and Admiralty Inlet.

The hike itself is a leisurely paced trail along the bluff and completes a loop along the beach. Even though flowers were not yet blooming, we saw quite a bit of wildlife including a sea lion swimming through the kelp just off the shore.

And now that we have scouted the trip, we feel comfortable enough to lead the hike later on.