Climbing Mount Olympus

Posted on November 7, 2017 by 512MBpc

By Bret Wirta – The Incidental Explorer

Distance: 40 miles Time out: 5 days

Degree of Difficulty: The pinnacle is a technical climb Elevation: 7,980 ft. Pet Friendly: No

Mount Olympus from Grand Pass

July 2017. For years Mount Olympus, that peak with the mythical name, has whispered to me, loud enough that I was going to attempt to summit it for a third time. This year’s team would consist of my wife Trisha and our friends Tom and Danae, whose daughter, Elise, had volunteered to guide us. After an overnight stay at the Holiday Inn Express in Sequim, a detailed gear check, and a hearty breakfast at the Black Bear Diner, we were ready to drive to the trailhead.

Team Elliemo

Mount Olympus is the enigmatic heart of Olympic National Park. Even though Mount Olympus isn’t very high, it’s permanently clad in the ice of half a dozen glaciers whose icy meltwaters birth three of the Olympic Peninsula’s major rivers. Mount Olympus hides in the middle of a million acres of wilderness. It’s infrequently climbed and difficult to reach. I’ve had the privilege of climbing Olympus with past guides who had summited some of the most difficult peaks in the world, but their unfamiliarity with the local terrain, and their cavalier attitude toward Mount Olympus had made me anxious from the start. This time I felt confident in our guide, Elise. Not only is she a skilled technical climber who volunteers with search and rescue, but she’d scaled Olympus and respected the mountain.

Ellie show us our remote goal

Our journey to Mount Olympus began at the Hoh Visitor Center where we entered one of the few surviving Old Growth forests on the Olympic Peninsula. By the 1930’s, the Seattle Timber barons, who had clear-cut all the other ancient woodlands, were drooling at the massive trees still left along the upper Hoh. But thanks to a nationwide lobbying effort led by President Franklin D. Roosevelt, the United States Congress agreed to create Olympic National Park, and the big trees were saved.

Big Trees of the Hoh Rain Forest

You don’t lace up your boots in the parking lot and start summitting Mount Olympus. It’s a 17.5-mile journey just to reach basecamp, which thankfully, is a delightful hike through the Hoh Rain Forest. July was sunny and warm under the lush green canopy, but during the winter, this valley receives 12 to 14 feet of rain! We saw every shade of green fighting for sunshine. We brushed past gigantic ferns and walked under bearded tree branches shaggy with moss. We were surrounded by a riotous explosion of flora in this temperate rain forest, one of the last left in the United States.

Hike among the ferns

As we left the Hoh Visitor Center the noise of our civilized world was quickly replaced by the sounds of the forest – the soft thud of our boots, birds singing and water splashing. According to acoustic ecologist, Gordon Hempton, the Hoh Rainforest is home to the, “quietest square inch in the United States.” Silly? Perhaps not. Many studies conclude that noise pollution affects most areas of the United States and noisy environments contribute to elevated stress, stroke and heart attack. Listening to a gurgling stream may be more than a pleasant distraction, it may be good for you.

Pretty sight and pleasant sound

Our plan was for Elise, Tom and me to climb while Trisha and Danae would support us at base camp. We’d all enjoy spectacular scenery on the hike in – kind of like a mini-vacation. Whether you enjoy camping in the shelter of the woods or on the banks of a sunny river, there are plenty of designated camping areas on the way up to Mount Olympus. Each camping area has a toilet, surface water and – if you are below 3,500 feet and there is no ban – safe fire rings where you can enjoy the comradery of your friends around a small fire. Don’t forget to apply in advance for your permit at the Wilderness Desk at the Olympic National Park Visitor’s Center in Port Angeles.

Camping in the forest at Olympus Guard Station

Camping on the gravel bar at Olympus Guard Station

Do you believe that the younger generation are all indoors playing video games and that they are basically going to hell in a handbasket? If so, what you’ll see on the trail up to Mount Olympus will surprise you. Young people were everywhere! We chatted with Ranger Andy Harrington on the trail. He’s a dedicated advocate for Olympic National Park who energetically patrols the backcountry. But perhaps best of all, we met dozens of twenty and thirty-year-olds from all over the world, joyously experiencing the wilderness. We don’t have to wait for the torch to be passed. This steadfast generation is already becoming today’s stewards of our national parks.

Ellie, our climbing guide

Ranger Andy Harrington and Bret

At the end of our second day on the trail, when we were less than a half mile from our basecamp, we crested a ridge to find the entire valley had been blown out by a landslide. The only way through was to climb down a hundred-plus-foot-long wire and wood rung ladder dangling against the steep side of the ravine. By carefully stepping down on the swaying rungs, while keeping our balance by holding a rope tethered to a tree up on the rim, we all reached the streambed far below. Not such an easy task for the non-technical climbers in our group, but Trisha and Danae scampered down like Cirque du Soleil performers.

Trisha masters the ladder

We set up our base camp at Glacier Meadows. We left the pleasant summer weather below, for it was cloudy and cold with a threat of rain. There were only a few climbers besides us who were attempting to summit Mount Olympus. Perhaps Olympus isn’t as popular as other Northwest peaks, because it is such a long hike to base camp, or maybe it’s because the mountain is invisible to the cities that surround it on Puget Sound.

Trisha, Bret and Danae at Glacier Meadows basecamp

Mount Olympus is located in the middle of million-acre Olympic National Park and hidden by a semi-circle of other peaks. You can only see it from other Olympic Peninsula high-points, like this view from camp Boston Charlie on the Bailey Range, or from out to sea in the Pacific Ocean. It was the stunning sea-view that caused English captain John Meares to exclaim that the Greek Gods must live upon that icy mountain, when he first saw it in 1788. The name, the invisibility, the remoteness, all give this peak its fabled aura.

Mt Olympus from Camp Boston Charlie, Bailey Range

Though the summit of Mount Olympus is only 8,000 feet high, climbing it isn’t a romp through the daisies. The mountain is exceptionally prominent, technically challenging, and difficult to reach. Because of this trifecta, Mount Olympus is known to climbers as one of only ten, “Triple Crown” highpoints in the lower 48 states. Our plan was to reach Snow Dome by mid-morning (which is the white expanse in the lower half of the photo) and then avoid the dangerous crevasses and bergschrunds on our circuitous route to the summit.

Route from Snow Dome to the summit – J Gussman photo

The next morning, Elise, Tom and I were on the trail by 4am. The first obstacle was carefully traversing the loose rock and gravel of the lateral moraine down to the surface of Blue Glacier. Carefully descending the trackless moraine was surprisingly slow and difficult.

Slow going on lateral moraine of Blue Glacier

We climbed in the low clouds and couldn’t see much. Later in the morning, Trisha hiked the mile and a half from basecamp just in time to see the clouds part and the early morning sunshine strike Mount Olympus and Blue Glacier. She said the view from the lateral moraine was one of the most stunning in Olympic National Park.

Early morning view of Mount Olympus and Blue Glacier (photo from 2012 climb)

We roped up and quickly crossed Blue Glacier. The ice was not just blue on the surface, but deep in the fissures and cracks the glacier glowed with an eerie sapphire luminosity. On the other side, we walked off the glacier and began the steep climb up to Snow Dome. Elise carried her climbing rope slung over her shoulder like rounds of bandito ammunition. Dangling from the belt of her harnesses, where she could quick-draw for them, was a dizzying assortment of pulleys, carabiners, belay devices, anchors, nuts, hexes and cams. She wore a hard-shell helmet on her head and blue climbing boots with spiky crampons on her feet. She had a charming smile and big eyes. Elise reminded me of the sweet superhero that talks in a soft voice then kicks the bad guy’s butt.

Ellie leads the team

Elise was lead, Tom in the middle, and I brought up the rear. This was my third attempt to summit Olympus in the last five years. Perhaps Elise would be the difference this time? It was looking good so far. We had cleared the white plains of Snow Dome before noon. Tom was in great shape and I felt really good too. Best of all the clouds had dissipated and we could see plenty of blue sky.

Across Snow Dome

Elise kept a steady pace. The shorter, steeper route above Snow Dome wasn’t an option for us in July. Huge crevasses in the steep snow field, one above the other, made that direct approach too dangerous. Elise opted to swing around through Crystal Pass.

Tom and Bret in Crystal Pass

Much of mountain climbing is just a long slog. The difficulty can be staying in focus. Follow the pace of the leader. Don’t trip. Don’t let the climbing rope become too taut or too loose. Don’t step on the rope. And rest whenever you can.

Bret takes a rest stop literally

We climbed up the steep snowfield and squeezed through the crevasse at False Summit. Here the slabs of sandstone and slate were fractured and broken and slid beneath our feet, making our traverse treacherous. We worked together, less we start a landslide. We watched where we stepped and shouted when there was danger. Physical injuries prevent many teams from summiting (a team member fell and broke his ankle on my second Olympus attempt), but it’s personality issues that cause many climbing teams to fail. There was no conflict on our team. I respected Elise’s leadership and watched as Daughter gave orders and Dad responded without hesitation.

The steep climb to False Summit

We scrambled through the narrow defile of False Summit and down into a snow-choked saddle. Above us was one last snowfield, a steep ramp to the base of a naked pinnacle of rock that is the west peak, the true summit of Mount Olympus. I imagine that later in the season crossing the moat from the snow to rock might be an issue, but not for us. With one easy step, we crossed onto a rock ledge.

One last snowfield to climb

The peak of Mt. Olympus is a vertical pyramid of dense metamorphic rock. Tom and I are not technical climbers and so we looked up at the naked rock with trepidation. For this last few hundred feet, Elise would go first and set nuts and cams that would anchor the rope and prevent us two rookies from a deadly fall. Elise chose the size and type depending on the size, depth and shape of the crevasse so that when the rope tugged on the anchors, they set themselves even more firmly into the rock. With confidence in Elise’s knowledge and skills, I climbed quickly up the chute.

Bret just below the summit

The last obstacle was a two-foot overhang at the top. I couldn’t discern a dignified way up and over the ledge, so I flopped myself unceremoniously over. I finally stood on the summit of Mount Olympus. It felt great accomplishing this goal. The clouds had lifted and it was sunny and peaceful. I thought of the climbers and guides on my previous Mount Olympus teams and all the joy and comradery I’d experienced with them.

Bret standing on the summit of Mt Olympus

Soon all three of us were on the summit. Dad and daughter hi-fived. They were both so excited. I could see how joyful Elise was to be here with her Dad and how proud Tom was of his daughter.

Elise and Tom on the Summit of Mount Olympus

What a view! The Olympics spread out below us in a jumble of glaciated peaks and tree clad valleys. We knew the buzz and hum of civilization was down there somewhere, but we couldn’t see any signs of it. This was a view that hadn’t changed that much since the Cordilleran Ice Sheet retreated over 15,000 years ago. It was a view worthy of Zeus.

View from the summit of Mount Olympus

After signing the log book, I returned it to the metal chest that was nestled in the rocks. We were behind schedule, so we savored the view for only a bit longer before it was time to head down. Though Tom and I had never repelled off a mountain before, Elise confidently rigged up a belaying device and clipped me in. I stood on the edge of the overhang with my back to the open sky. I will admit it took my legs three tries before they pushed off the cliff. I fell backwards into bright blue sky. By releasing rope during a series of backwards leaps, followed by my legs absorbing the shock as I swung back into the rock, I was down on the snow at the base of the pinnacle in an instant.

Tom repelling off the summit of Mount Olympus

The rest of our adventure on Mount Olympus was just retracing our steps back to basecamp where we arrived at dusk. It had been a grueling 16.5-hour day, but thanks to Elise, we summited Mount Olympus. We toasted with Trisha and Danae. I was elated. It was a difficult journey, one that tested us sorely. No epiphany to report, but I do understand humanity’s need to challenge itself. It took me three tries, but I finally climbed that rascal. Almost making it to the top wasn’t good enough. I craved that feeling on the summit, that briefest moment of ecstasy when you stand where few others have stood and look out at all that is below.

We slept hard at our Glacier Meadows base camp that night and spent the next couple of days leisurely hiking back down the Hoh Valley trail. There was plenty of time for reflection. Though summiting Mount Olympus with Team Elliemo felt great, it wasn’t just a feat of bravado. I enjoyed climbing with Elise and Tom and the rest of the adventure with my wife, Trisha, and Danae. We forged a physical connection with this magnificent mountain and created an intimacy with yet another location inside this glorious gift to the world, Olympic National Park.

There is a common understanding among many Native American nations – wisdom sits in places. Learning and growing are tied to special locations. They are thin places. High in the sky and close to the heavens. Places that speak to us, not only of beauty, but of challenges. Mount Olympus is such a place to me. Philosopher Rene Daumel once said that when you climb you see, and when you must descend, at least you have known.

Team Elliemo on the summit of Mount Olympus

The End

Story by Bret Wirta

Photos by Bret Wirta, Elise Hollowed and Tom Hollowed.

In the Footsteps of Early Geologists:
Searching for Clues to how the Olympics were Formed

Posted on June 3, 2016 by 512MBpc

Story and Photos by Bret Wirta – The Incidental Explorer

Distance: 15 miles – Time out: 3 days

Degree of Difficulty: 3 – Highest Elevation: 7,000 ft.

Pet Friendly: No

It’s easy to decipher the geology of many parts of the world because the record in the rocks is accessible, but not so here on the Olympic Peninsula. Here the jumbled valleys, dense forests, and thick glaciers conspire to obscure the layers of rock below. It took a century for three different geologists to uncover clues to a unifying creation theory. This is their story along with my three-day journey up the Dungeness River watershed to locate the final bit of enigmatic evidence that almost prevented the theory from being written. – The Incidental Explorer

Map – In the Footsteps of Early Geologists by Sequim artist Per Berg

September 22, 2015. It was the first day of autumn, but at the Dungeness River trailhead the weather was still all summery sunshine and blue sky. In addition to the pleasant weather, I was fortunate to be backpacking with two of my favorite Olympic National Park Rangers, Bruce and Donovan. Their years of roving about the Olympic Peninsula meant this duo usually knew the answers to my questions down to the minute details, but the questions I hoped to answer on this trip were big ones: namely how were the Olympic Mountains formed and who uncovered the answers?

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In the Footsteps of Homesteaders and Whalers:
Hiking the Cape Alava Trail

Posted on February 18, 2015 by 512MBpc

Story and Photos by Bret Wirta – The Incidental Explorer

Distance: 9 miles – Time out: 8 hours

Degree of Difficulty: 2 – Highest Elevation: Sea Level

Pet Friendly: No

February 18-19, 2015.

Cape Alava map – Per Berg

Here in this quiet corner of Olympic National Park, the Cape Alava Trail starts at Ozette Lake and ends at Cape Alava on the Pacific Coast. Hiking the trail is like following two parallel threads of European and Native American history. Ozette Lake was once ringed with Scandinavian homesteaders, and Cape Alava was once home to a large Makah fishing village. Today, where these two communities once thrived, there are only whispering forests and crashing waves. Recently, I had an opportunity to hike the scenic Cape Alava Trail with Donovan and Bruce, friends and park rangers who know the trail’s secrets.

The Cape Alava Trail begins at the Ozette Lake Campground. Today, big trees grow all the way to the lake’s edge, but in the early 1890’s Scandinavian families hacked 130 homesteads out of the dense forest. The homesteads surrounded the lake, one-half to one mile apart. Their Ozette Lake community was vibrant but isolated; travel to the outside world was either down the Ozette River by canoe and rendezvous with a ship off the Pacific Coast or via a muddy, twenty-five mile trail along the Hoko River to the settlement at Clallam Bay on the Strait of Juan de Fuca. Their isolation led to self-sufficiency. The Scandinavian homesteaders were a tough bunch. Out of the wilderness, they built stores, schools, a church and three post offices. The land was cleared, livestock raised, and their surplus cream, butter, beef and pork was shipped to Seattle. There was a community band and frequent celebrations as these hardy folk strove to acquire title on the land they lived upon by “proving-up.” The Scandinavian homesteaders turned this inaccessible frontier into a remarkably lively and cohesive settlement.

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In the Footsteps of Sawmills and Timber Beasts:
Searching for the Snow Creek Logging Company

Posted on November 5, 2014 by 512MBpc

Story and Photos by Bret Wirta – The Incidental Explorer

Distance: 5 miles – Time out: 6 hours

Degree of Difficulty: 1 – Highest Elevation: 800 ft.

Pet Friendly: Yes

November 5th 2014

Searching for Snow Creek Logging Company – Per Berg map. Click map to enlarge

A century ago, the Snow Creek Logging Company had a large camp in the hills of Miller Peninsula southeast of Blyn, WA. The company, one of many on the Olympic Peninsula, cut millions of board feet of logs from 1917 to the 1930’s. One day in November, I decided to go and search for clues to the camp on the old dirt roads and paths between Sequim Bay and Discovery Bay. The drive between the head of the two bays, along the curve of SR-101 is ten miles, but hiking through the forest, straight across the neck of Miller Peninsula, the distance was half that. If the logging roads on my map actually existed, I hoped I could find the site of the camp and make it out of the woods before the early winter darkness.

I began my walk at 10:30am at the misty shore of Sequim Bay. There were few opportunities to earn quick and easy cash in the pioneer economy of the Pacific Northwest in the 1850’s; a farm took years to clear, and trapping, fishing or prospecting were specialized trades. But then there was logging. Logs paid cash, and on the Olympic Peninsula there were huge stands of timber right on the shoreline. The big trees only had to be cut, tumbled into the water and the cash-money pocketed. The logs were rafted to sawmills while the lumber hungry cities of the West cried for more.

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In the Footsteps of Filmmakers and Mountain Men:
The Bailey Range Traverse

Posted on July 19, 2014 by 512MBpc

Story by Bret Wirta – The Incidental Explorer

Distance: 70 miles – Time out: 9 days

Degree of Difficulty: 4 – Highest Elevation: 6,100 ft.

Pet Friendly: No

July 19th – July 27th 2014.

The Bailey Range begins at the edge of the Seven Lakes wilderness of Olympic National Park, where the maintained trail ends and few backpackers travel. I was part of a small climbing team that planned on traversing miles of the trackless peaks and valleys of the Bailey Range before summiting glacier-shrouded Mount Olympus. We were all very excited! The Mountain Trail Guide says that the Bailey Range Traverse is perhaps the finest high-county route in the Olympics. We’d be far from civilization; it would take us a day of hiking for our team just to reach the start of the traverse east of the Seven Lakes Basin.

I liked our team from the start. Mark, our guide, was from Mountain Madness, the world-famous mountaineering company. Though he had never set foot in the Olympics, the lean mid-twenty year old had plenty of climbing experience all over the Northwest. Just three days before, Mark had returned from guiding a climb up Mt. Denali in Alaska. Throughout our journey, he easily shouldered a backpack loaded with gear that I could barely lift. Julie and Grant, meanwhile, were a friendly married couple from south Puget Sound. They were fit from a daily exercise regimen designed for this climb. I, on the other hand, found myself talking a little too fast and laughing a little too loud during our introductions. I couldn’t stop worrying that I was a decade and a half older than the rest of the team. I was nervous because we’d be spending the next nine days navigating through the wilderness without the benefit of a trail.

Day 2

The Bailey Range Traverse begins at “The Catwalk.” Mark pointed up to where a jumble of boulders disappeared into the clouds and said this was the trail. I cleared my throat and was about to say that can’t be right when Julie, Grant and Mark began climbing. I shut up and followed. Our team scrambled up Cat Peak at 5,300 feet and then along a narrow spine of jagged rock, squeezing through crevasses among the gnarled branches of stunted, sub-alpine trees. Handholds were difficult to find and I wasn’t used to climbing with a heavy pack. The drop-off on either side of the Catwalk must have been stupendous, but we weren’t sure since it was raining and visibility was poor. Julie said, “I think God made it cloudy so I couldn’t be scared.”

Bailey Range Traverse map – click to enlarge

We reached the end of the frightening Catwalk at 6pm where there was a narrow saddle of bare dirt called Boston Charlie’s Camp. There was just enough space for our two tents. Boston Charlie was a mountain man born in the 1860’s. He was the last medicine man of the Klallam people. He frequented Olympic Hot Springs for spiritual cleansing long before they were discovered by Whites, and his encounter with a mountain-sized Sasquatch is part of Klallam history. This tiny bench of ground was one of Boston Charlie’s favorite campsites. After a gourmet macaroni and cheese dinner prepared by Mark, and being warm and dry in our sleeping bags while cold rain pelted our tent, it became one of my favorite campsites too.

Day 3

After a rejuvenating 12-hour slumber, our team awoke to the clear skies that we had been hoping for. Now we had a stunning view of the entire forty or so miles of the trackless Bailey Range that we would navigate and climb, beginning with Mt. Carrie and ending at our final goal, the glacier-encased Mt. Olympus, far across the Hoh River Valley. I bit my bottom lip at the sight of the countless peaks while Grant kept his thoughts to himself, but Julie confided that Olympus looked intimidating, huge and impossibly far away.

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In the Footsteps of the 1890 Banner Party:
Backpacking the North Fork Skokomish River Trail

Posted on June 20, 2014 by 512MBpc

Story and Photos by Bret Wirta – The Incidental Explorer

Distance: 26 miles – Time out: 3 days

Degree of Difficulty: 2 – Highest Elevation: 4,688 ft.

Pet Friendly: No

June 18th – 20th 2014

I jumped at the chance to explore the North Fork of the Skokomish River with a friend who knows many of its secrets. Donovan told me we’d be backpacking in the footsteps of the famous O’Neil expedition of 1890, and we’d also be following the path of a little-know group of explorers – the Banner Party.

Packed and ready

It looked like the summer of 1890 would be the year that the last of the unexplored regions of the Olympic Mountains would finally give up their secrets. The public couldn’t get enough of the story. Because the Olympic Mountains were not on the direct path of commerce, their geography was little understood by cartographers until the end of the 19th century. Now the race was on to find what was inside that impenetrable maze of peaks and valleys. During the winter and spring of 1890, the Seattle Press had sold a lot of newspapers by funding and promoting James Christie’s heroic expedition up the Elwha and down the Quinault Rivers. Now other newspapers where poised to cover Lieutenant Joseph P. O’Neil’s US Army explorations up one of the last unknown areas in the Olympics, the North Fork of the Skokomish River.

Per Berg Map North Fork Skokomish River CLICK TO ENLARGE

In the south end of Puget Sound was a tiny newspaper, the Buckley Banner. Its struggling editor, Charles E. Joynt, was not going to miss out on a chance to pump-up his circulation just like the Seattle Press had done that spring. The Banner Party would also head up the North Fork of the Skokomish and “out-explore” the seasoned Lieutenant O’Neil as they both raced into the unknown together.

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In the Footsteps of Manganese Miners: Exploring the Crescent Mine

Posted on August 14, 2013 by 512MBpc

Story and Photos by Bret Wirta – The Incidental Explorer

Distance: 3 miles – Time out: 4 hours

Degree of Difficulty: 1 – Elevation Gain: none

Pet Friendly: yes

August 14th 2013

Exploring the Crescent Mine 2013

I have a confession: I’m lured by stories of vanished gold, hidden gems, old maps, and especially all manner of lost mines – so I was very excited when my friend Lynn Johnson asked me to take a walk along the Olympic Discovery Trail and visit the abandoned Crescent Mine. Andy Stevenson joined us. Not only is Andy a past president of the Olympic Discovery Trail, but he knows his geology. Andy holds a degree in mine exploration from Stanford and has explored for copper, gold, and uranium. He still mines recreationally now and then on a couple of gold claims his grandfather left him. When I asked Andy how he became a miner he said, “Learnt it at my grandpappy’s knee,” Turns out Andy’s grandfather was also a Stanford trained engineer and successful miner.

Lynn, Andy and I drove to the west end of Lake Crescent and parked our cars at the turn-off on the north side of SR-101 at the intersection of the Sol Duc Hot Springs Road. We walked down to the Olympic Discovery Trail (ODT) to start our journey.

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Cameron Creek and Grand Valley Backpacking Adventure

Posted on July 30, 2013 by 512MBpc

Story and Photos by Bret Wirta – The Incidental Explorer

Distance: 30 miles – Time out: 3 days

Degree of Difficulty: 2 – Highest Elevation: 6,773 ft.

Pet Friendly: No

July 30th 2013

This backpacking adventure will take you into the interior of Olympic National Park. Starting at Slab Creek and ending at Deer Park is a 30 mile adventure that will take you over two mountain passes. It’s not easy and our family ran into some unexpected obstacles. It’s not easy getting three college kids with busy summers together for a three-day wilderness outing, but after much planning, convincing, cajoling, rescheduling and compromising, the morning of our annual family outdoor adventure arrived. We drove to the Slab Camp Trailhead and at 8am slid on our backpacks. My wife Trisha lifted her pack gingerly; she had managed to remain active even with a decade-old back injury. My son Garrett, winced as he slid into his hiking boots; he had a broken toe. Nonetheless, Garrett and Trisha, along with my nephew Nate, set the pace. Bringing up the rear, my daughter Becca and I chatted about past adventures, but I was too anxious to talk much about this year’s hike; the most difficult backpacking journey I had ever planned for my family.

We hiked though rhododendrons that must have looked beautiful when they bloomed earlier in the summer. We brushed aside Horsetail fronds that were overhanging the trail. Olympic National Park botanist Joshua Chenoweth told me that it was, “Probably field horsetail (Equisetum arvense). It is not a flowering plant but a spore-producing plant in the fern family… A very ancient plant.” For a hundred million years Equisetum, ruled the understory of ancient Paleozoic forests. Unchanged, horsetail today is known as a living fossil.

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Grand Ridge with the Klahhane Club

Posted on July 3, 2013 by 512MBpc

Story and Photos by Bret Wirta – The Incidental Explorer

Roundtrip Distance: 14.8 mile roundtrip – Time out: 6 hours

Degree of Difficulty: 2 – Elevation Gain: 1,364 ft.

Pet Friendly: No

July 3, 2013

I enjoyed the day hike along Grand Ridge because much of it was above tree-line. The National Park Service lists this trail as the highest in the Olympic National Park. The trailhead starts at Deer Park Campground at 5,200 feet and climbs to over 6,500 feet. It is a remarkable trail.

The spectacular road to the trailhead on Blue Mountain was planned by the US Forest Service and constructed by the Civilian Conservation Corps during the Great Depression. A CCC construction camp was located at Deer Park. The Port Angeles Evening News reported on March 21st 1934 that the road, “…is almost entirely cut out of mountain rock in the upper five miles.” And that it’s, “…one of the best forest roads possessed by the United States Forest Service.”

We parked at the lower parking lot in the Deer Park campground. The first mile of trail slopes downhill and is broad and smooth because it’s an abandoned road. This was a highway that was to be continued along Grand Ridge to Obstruction Point; just one of many roads envisioned by the Forest Service in the 1930’s using its Civilian Conservation Corp labor pool.

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Anderson Pass 2013

Posted on June 2, 2013 by 512MBpc

Story and Photos by Bret Wirta – The Incidental Explorer

Distance: 35 miles – Time out: Three days

Degree of Difficulty: 3 – Elevation: 4,464 ft.

Pet Friendly: No

June 2, 2013

I loved hiking over Anderson Pass in Olympic National Park. This three day journey has it all; lush lowland forests, subalpine terrain and a snow choked pass if you are crazy enough to hike it early in the spring. I appreciated the wilderness and the solitude, more so since early park planners had wanted to build a highway over Anderson Pass. My Anderson Pass adventure began far down in the Dosewallips River valley where until 2002 you could drive your automobile up the road to the Dosewallips Campground. That year a storm washed away a big hunk of highway 5.5 miles below the campground. A passionate debate whether to repair the Dosewallips Road followed. This debate over the Dosewallips Road was part of the bigger battle that was fought in Olympic National Park for half a century: should roads be cut through the park that would give tourists greater access, like over Anderson Pass, or should we leave the wilderness alone?

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