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.

Hiking the Upper Dungeness River

Beautiful partly sunny February days don't happen very often here in the Northwest. But when they do, you better know that folks will line up to hike the low land snow-free trails - unless the trail is a 3 hour drive from the Seattle.

Welcome to the Upper Dungeness - or any trail on the north end of the Olympic Peninsula. A magical place where the crowds just don't go, at least not early in the season. By the time we parked and got our boots on, we saw no other cars in the parking lot.

The Olympic Peninsula is a magical place for me. This is where I first learned about the wonders of the natural world. It's also where I learned about hiking and backpacking. Even old familiar trails are new and wondrous for me with each passing season.

So when I have the chance to share my favorite places with others I leap at the chance. I get to spend the day in the wilderness with friends as they explore nature and themselves. What could be better than stopping by a river and having a snack in camaraderie of fellow travelers?

And when you're hiking through the shadow of ancient trees on a chill February morning, stop to feel the sun on your face for a brief moment and become spellbound.

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.

The Grey Wolf

Lower Grey Wolf River, 4/10/10, 7 miles, 600 elevation

I have always had a pull to the Olympic Peninsula. Ever since I was a child, my family's vacations in the rich dark forests were looked upon by me as an escape from everything that troubled a young child's mind. So when the opportunity to change the destination of our CHS hike because of poor scheduling on our part (note to self: read the tide tables PRIOR to scheduling the trip), I jumped at the chance to explore an area I had not yet explored - the Grey Wolf River.

Deep in the Buckhorn Wilderness flows the Grey Wolf River, not well known but no less beautiful than the more well known rivers of the Olympic peninsula. Protected by the thick forest in the rainshadow of the Olympics rushes over rocks and meanders around thick bends. In the spring, runoff from melting snows up high swells the waters to a raucous noise. But as we were hiking early in a late snow year, the river was a quiet companion whispering of its journey to the sea.

The trail is generally flat with a few hills to climb over but always the moss and fern covered forest floor awaits you as you descend back to the river's side. Sun sparkled through the heavy trees and you wonder with the thickness of moss, ferns and tree if this is truly a rainshadow forest. In comparison to the rainforests of the Hoh & Quinault there can be no doubt. Yet a comparison to even forests along the western Cascades, the lush life belies the thought.

We stopped at river's edge for lunch just prior to the washout before turning back towards home. And the life of the Olympics still thrives in my soul.

April Snows bring . . . ?

Big Creek Loop, 4/3/10, 4.5 miles, 600 elevation

Our plans were made in February - an unseasonably warm February where we hiked trails normally closed until April or May. Our excitement in getting to destinations early in the season was uncontained as we planned the hikes for this year's Conditioning Hike Series. Even so, Big Creek Loop is hikable in the early season - one of the reasons I enjoy the hike on the SE side of the Olympic Peninsula. The forest is filled with the new green of spring. But not this year. No, this year brought us snow - a lot of it.

Our merry little group started out at the Big Creek campground in a spotty dusting of snow, telling stories and getting to know each other, stopping to identify fox prints in the snow. A slight rain began to fall on us as we started our climb through the trees. It wasn't long before the rain showers turned into snow showers. Soon, it was just plain snowing and accumulating on the trail, ferns & trees.

Knowing I had a few newer hikers on the trip, I asked if anyone was uncomfortable. There waas still time to turn back, but this being a loop everyone opted to continue on. One of the features I love about this trail is that there are several different streams to cross as well as Big Creek. Big Creek is at the apex of the climb then the trail follows the other side of the drainage back down to the campground. By the time we crossed the bridge over Big Creek, we were hiking through 8 inches of snow - almost perfect for snowshoes.

I had hoped for lunch at a little bench tucked in the trees next to the creek. But the snow wasn't relenting so we traveled a little further until I could not postpone lunch any longer - my hikers needed to eat. So we huddled together under Alder swaying with the wind. Adding insult to injury, the wind knocked chunks of snow off the trees with well-aimed precision, splattering on our heads and down our jackets.

Soon we were down to the land of rain showers and a dusting of snow - ready to see what the rest of the season brings us.

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.

Sweat and Flowers

Marmot Pass, 8/2/08, 10.5 miles, 3500 elevation

Is that yet another variety of Paintbrush? How many had I seen by now? I was looking down at a pale pink Indian Paintbrush in the meadows below Marmot Pass. Already I had spotted a Common Paintbrush and Scarlett Paintbrush and possibly another one or two. And that wasn't counting the myriad other wildflowers along the trek up to Marmot Pass. Along the way there were Twinflowers, Tiger Lilies, Red Columbine, Fireweed, False Solomon's Seal, Penstemon, Nootka Roses - the list goes on and on. But it was the variety of Paintbrushes that stood out on this trip.

It's a long hill to climb to Marmot Pass and even on this chilled and cloudy summer day, we were all sweating to make the top. The forest gave us glimpses of the chaos nature can bring when thrashed with a storm. As we quickly climbed through the forest along the Quilcene River, deadfall littered each bank and the forest floor. Flowers peeked out from around stumps and greenery. As the way became steeper, the forest started opening up to grander views topped by low hanging clouds. I could only imagine the splendor we'd have seen if the sky had been clear - the view was beautiful as it was.

We came across a meadow filled with color, followed by another one and another. Soon we reached the meadow below the pass filled with pinks and yellows - all I wanted to do was stop and spend an hour or more shooting. But the color didn't stop there. All along the final climb to the pass were more varieties of flowers and more colors until we reached our destination looking to the interior of the Olympic Mountains. The clouds thinned a bit and the views for lunch makes me want to return, again and again.

A conversation with a Fawn Lily

Duckabush River Trail, 5/3/08, 10 miles, 1200 Elevation

I slowly stepped along the trail creeping up Big Hump, the large hill between me and our groups' turn around point. The group had long ago left me behind, faster uphills than I could ever imagine myself going. Our co-leader lagged behind me so as not to give me any undue pressure to push myself harder than I'd be capable to sustain. It was a quiet respite after the chattering of the group - all I heard over my breathe were the sounds of water tumultuously rushing downhill and the far-off call of a male grouse.

As I climbed higher, the low-lying clouds began to form a dense thicket of fog around the trees, filtering the light to a low glow reminiscent of an ordinary December Day. But this was May, on the Olympic Peninsula. I have often started out on a trail in full glory of the sun only to be drenched to the bone by the time I turned around and dry again when I reached the car. There is no telling what a spring hike on the peninsula will give you. And visual treats were what I could expect today.

It was about this time, as I was thinking of the clouds and the changes in the forest as I climbed higher into the clouds, that I spotted the first of them. "Oh my," I thought. "Is that what I think it is?" My curiosity propelled my feet further up the hill at a slightly faster pace. As I turned the next switchback, there my suspicions were laid to rest - handfuls of Fawn Lilies lined the hillside above the trail, their white heads bowed low with moisture over their mottled leaves. "Hello my pretties," I breathed as I slowly walked past eager to walk amongst these little gems but not wanting to pass too quickly. They seemed to sparkle in the dark grey of the day. Other flowers awaited me further up the hill, and I was excited to see each one in turn - Chocolate Lily, Flowering Red Current, Small Blue-Eyed Mary, Penstemon, mini-monkeyflowers. Little jewels against the murky day.

We were well within the cloud as wee reached the peak and traveled along a moss-lined trail through the woods. My pace quickened here to stay with the rest of the group who had waited for us at the top of the hill. And in the murky cloud where little light made its way through the thick cloud and the forest canopy, our way was lit by the vibrant green of moss along the trail, which seemed to glow from a source all its own. The chattering again picked up, but I found refuge in the quiet of the climb accompanied by the sounds of the river and a happy grouse and my own short conversation with the Fawn Lily.

Crossing Streams

Big Creek Loop 5/28/07 4.5 miles

The new Mountaineer's day hiking trail guides hit our desks this week and I couldn't wait to test one out. Of course I borrowed the Olympic Peninsula guide by Craig Romano and flipped through to the Big Creek Loop trail near Lake Cushman - a 4 1/2 mile trail with an elevation gain of just 900 feet. I thought it would a wonderful hike to stretch our legs a bit. And in fact, it was not only a perfect hike for us but also a perfect hike for our dogs.

Big Creek Loop trail, as Craig put it, is the newest trail in the Olympic National Forest. I must say it is an extremely well-maintained trail. All junctions were well signed as well as mile markers along the way. The trail was wide and clean of all blowdowns - something that can't be said of many other trails in western Washington this year. The trail was originally built using abandoned forest service roads and interconnected by trails. The volunteer crews that built it did an amazing job.

We hiked through hemlock forests peppered with big leaf and vine maples. At one point we walked through bracken ferns chest high. After climbing through the forest for a while, the trail meets up with Big Creek and follows it upstream for a fraction of a mile before leveling out and crossing the 1st of the tributaries into Big Creek. We stopped at the convergence of one of these tributaries for lunch. The dogs laid at our feet hoping for a dropped cracker or cheese while wee listened to the tumbling and crashing water as it fell over rocks and swirled around boulders.

After our break, our way downhill was decorated by springtime flowers including beargrass, bleeding hearts and vanilla leaf. And then I saw it, curving over the trail ahead, a beautiful pacific rhododendron - its pink flowers brightening the cloud-covered forest. I love to see these northwest wildflowers; they line the highways of the peninsula but I especially enjoy them in wilds. I think, because they have been domesticated so well, it's a bit refreshing to see them where the originated - under a forest canopy and amongst ferns.

In all, we had 6 stream crossings on this fine hike. Check it out for yourself. Even better, pick up one of the new day hiking guides from the Mountaineers - 1% of sales will be returned to trail maintenance.