Olympic Discovery Trail / Sequim State Park

December 11, 2016


The snow has been falling in the mountains and I have been itching all year to break in my new snowshoes. Every time I look towards the mountains, I see the fresh snows accumulating and I yearn to go play outside. I had been working some extra hours at work, so a Saturday finally came where I could escape the shackles of my adult life and get outdoors. I was joined by Andrea and Carla for a snowshoe adventure up in the Hurricane Ridge area of the Olympics. When we arrived, however, the road conditions were hazardous and a severe winter storm warning had been issued for the ridge. Although at a lower elevation, the roadway to our Plan B destination wasn't much better. Since we were in the neighborhood of Sequim Bay State Park and the Olympic Discovery Trail, we totally switched gears, foregoing snowshoeing altogether. Enter Plan C...

The Olympic Discovery Trail is a wide, paved trail that currently covers roughly 75 miles of lowlands and shorelines along the northern coast of the Olympic Peninsula. When fully completed, it will span 130 miles, from Port Townsend to the Pacific Ocean. We parked our cars and headed out for a leisurely stroll along a mile-long section of the trail. We wandered through a lightly forested area before the trail carried us down to an area overlooking the tranquil waters of Sequim Bay. The skies were overcast, but hinted at the beauty hidden under their gray veil.

Once our walk had brought us back to our cars, we drove into Sequim for a delicious lunch then headed home.

Hike 56.
Distance hiked: 2 miles 

 

Upper Dungeness River

11/26/2016


The Upper Dungeness River Trail has become an almost magical place for me. Something unique and enchanting can be experienced along the trail with each passing season. To wander the trail alongside the river feels ethereal, almost whimsical and at times dreamlike. I have watched the river change in color and intensity, its personality transforming with the seasons, and experienced the forest as it has cycled through its own seasonal transformations.

Upper Dungeness River in winter

The original plan for the long Thanksgiving weekend had been a three-day pack trip along the Upper Dungeness River to Camp Handy. With the issuance of a winter storm warning for the mountains, we decided to swap our backpacks for daypacks instead. Our merry little band today consisted of myself, Evie, Cupcake, and dogs Zillah & Jax. I love hiking with my granddaughter. She carries with her the jubilance and enthusiasm of a seven-year old, and a sense of adventure that mirrors my own. She sees things through glittery, rose-colored glasses and could probably put a positive spin on biting the head off a beetle. She's just that awesome. This trip, however, would test her mettle.


Our adventure started out on a cold, dreary and overcast Saturday. There were only two other vehicles in a normally full parking lot, which meant we would almost have the forest to ourselves. We layered our raincoats over our fleece, grabbed gloves, leashed up the dogs and headed up the trail. We hadn't gone far before we encountered the first of many streamlets that would need to be crossed. By the time we had crossed a half dozen of them, Cupcake's feet were wet. Water-resistant boots only work in water that's not deeper than your boots are tall. By now a steady drizzle had begun and we were glad we had raingear. Before long the trail became a rapidly flowing stream of water that was a few inches deep in places. We splashed our way up the trail, skirting the water off-trail where necessary. The dogs, meanwhile, had been let off-leash and were romping up and down the trail, staying within easy recall distance and having a great time. 

Cupcake & Zillah at the river's edge

We were about 1/3 of the way up the trail when we encountered the first of the snow. At first it was just on the sides of the trail. Soon it was heavy enough that it mixed with all the water on the trail, meaning we were now sloshing through a few inches of slush. I was worried that Cupcake's feet were going to get too cold as they were already wet. When I suggested we turn around, Cupcake asked if we could please try pushing on to the shelter at Camp Handy. By the time we reached the bridge crossing the river, we were walking on compact snow and I could tell Cupcake was starting to get cold. We forged forward another 1/4 mile, but now daylight and the worsening rain became an issue. Evie and I made the decision to turn around for safety. We found a log where we could sit for some hot cocoa and a quick snack before heading back down.




Cupcake straddling the water rushing down the trail

Evie makes her way across the snow-covered footbridge

As we began our return trip, the rain turned into a light snow. Cupcake found it magical to be hiking along in it. We reached the car as the last of the day's light faded into evening and the snow began falling in earnest. The road that was clear on our trip up wore a sheet of snow for our trip down.

I have never been more proud of my granddaughter than I was this day. From her coat down she was soaked to the skin. Her wool socks were so wet that I wrung them out. I stripped her down and put her into dry clothes, layered on some warm coats and wrapped her shivering little body in blankets. Not once did Cupcake complain about being cold. Nary a whimper nor protest was heard. She toughed it out like the trail princess she is. On a trail as magical as this one, she could have slain a dragon...

Hike 55
Distance: 6.2 miles
Elevation gain, 600'  

   

Clear Creek

November 25, 2016


I hate Black Friday. I don't like dealing with crowds of nasty people, and I stood in more than enough lines in the military. Instead of fueling the greedy bottom line of corporate America. I, instead, prefer to put all the madness behind me and head outdoors. In past years I have gone paddling, wandered our beaches for some meditation and beachcombing, and climbed a mountain. This year I opted to take my granddaughter, Cupcake, on a short hike. Our original plans were thwarted by a subpar weather forecast (winter storm warning), so we resorted to our backup plan - 'hiking' the Clear Creek Trail in Silverdale.

By the time we arrived at the trailhead, the sun was shining brightly. (eyes rolling) Go figure. We laughed, chatted with our friend Evie, who was just leaving the trail, then began our mini-adventure. The Clear Creek Trail is an urban trail that winds through a small wetlands where you can often see many variety of birds, butterflies and dragonflies. Over the past decade I have watched it transform as trees and shrubs have been planted, natural water habitats restored, pathways added and benches built for peaceful viewing. A portion of the way is a gravel trail whereas the remainder of the trail is a nicely built boardwalk over the water. Educational boards are placed periodically along the route.

Cupcake and I walked in about half way, then stopped at a picnic bench to savor the beauty of the day. I hauled out our new JetBoil stove to heat water for hot cocoa, and we enjoyed some string cheese and grapes for our snack. She chatted with other 'hikers' and we giggled over girl things while sipping our hot cocoa. A few wintering birds flitted about the trees, pip-pip-pipping their greetings. We packed our things up, making sure we left no trace, and headed back to the car, our adventure done for the day. Although the skies were still clear at that point, we knew a storm was on the way and we wanted to be home before it blew in. 

Hike 54.
Distance: 1.5 miles
Elevation gain: ~20'     

Snow Lake

November 12, 2016


The trail to Snow Lake is probably the most heavily trafficked trail into a wilderness area in the Pacific Northwest, seeing in excess of 25,000 hikers a year. The reason why is no mystery - with Chair Peak rising on one side and Roosevelt Peak on the other, it delivers spectacular alpine scenery just 3.5 miles (and a mere 1800 feet elevation) from Snoqualmie Summit. The sheer number of hikers is the number one reason why I have held off so long in going. Evie and I thought we'd take advantage of the weekend's wet forecast, thinking we would have the trail pretty much to ourselves. 


Our day started out uneventful enough - aside from the dogs not wanting to play nicely in the back seat. The morning dawned gray and dismal, as expected, but with only a threat of precipitation. Upon reaching the parking lot, I was surprised by the number of vehicles already present - sadly we wouldn't have the trail to ourselves as we'd hoped. Nevertheless, we donned our rain gear and our packs, leashed up the dogs and hit the trail.

Talus field cloaked in autumn colors with
Chair Peak in the background

The trail to Snow Lake leaves from the parking lot and almost immediately begins a continuous climb up the ridge. We climbed through subalpine forest, our footsteps hushed by a blanketing mist. The trees gave way to an easy-to-navigate field of rock debris, called talus. I found myself looking about for a marmot or pika, finding instead a chipmunk scurrying away on its business. This is where I remembered I was attached to Zillah via a very thick leash. Fortunately she is easy to recall, otherwise this trip could have had a far different ending. She remained on alert the remainder of our ascent, at the ready should she need to protect us from any further vicious squirrels.

The trees began thinning out, allowing more light for berry-bearing bushes, ferns and ground cover shrubs. Most had died back to the burnt orange color of autumn in preparation for the impending snows. Before long we reached a steep and mercifully short climb which was our last leg to the top of the ridge. Once at the top, there is a short scramble over some large boulders to a glorious viewpoint atop an outcropping that overlooks the lake. The trail continues on down to the shore of the lake, but today's journey was only to the overlook. 



Our first glimpse of Chair Peak

 

The wind blowing up from the lake was brisk, carrying on its wing the bite of winter, and it cut right through us. The low-lying clouds through which we had hiked most of the day blew in and swirled over the water's surface below us. Chair and Roosevelt Peaks played a game of peek-a-boo, pulling the cover of the clouds over their faces, then revealing themselves to us again and again. Blue skies would occasionally taunt and tease us with the promise of an even more spectacular scene, then hide away again behind the clouds. Apparently they, too, felt the chill of the wind and wanted to pull the blanket of clouds up for warmth. Finally we gave in and retreated to the relative protection behind the outcropping where we heated some water for coffee & cocoa.

After warming ourselves from the inside, we packed up and headed back down the trail. Although we had encountered quite a few people (and their dogs) on our way up, our return trip was almost in solitude. The daylight was quickly waning and the clouds began a light, cold drizzle. The darkness overtook us as we made our way under thicker tree-cover, so we donned our headlamps and continued on. I am so thankful that we came well prepared with extra layers, rain gear, a stove (and Bailey's!) and headlamps. Before we knew it we had arrived back at the parking lot, another wonderful trail behind us.

 


Me and Zillah on the outcropping of the overlook

Hike 53! of 52
Distance: 5.5 miles
Elevation gain: 1800'
Max Elevation Achieved: 4400'