Laurabelle’s Blog

Remember how good Jeff and I are about misjudging our hikes? (Witness Lena Lake, Mount Rainier, and Annette Lake.) We did it again—but I’ll get to that later.

This weekend’s hike was in Olympic National Park, just south of Port Angeles. There, three connecting trails form a loop that winds up and over mountain ridges for most of its length, affording spectacular views to the north, east, and south. The plan was as follows:

• Saturday: Heart of the Hills to Heather Park (4 miles, steady ascent, ~3500 feet elevation gain)
• Sunday: Heather Park to Lake Angeles along the Klahhane Ridge (~4.5 miles, up and down over the ridge with a net descent to the lake)
• Monday: Lake Angeles back down to Heart of the Hills (~3.5 miles, gently downhill)

Unfortunately I can’t point you at a map, but I had one, and it sure seemed like a good plan. We could have gone around the loop in the other direction, but I figured that it would be better to get the worst over on the first day. That way, the second and third days would be relatively easy.

The catch is that maps don’t tell you everything. Neither do guide books.

Friday, 27 May

The saga began on Friday evening. Jeff and I loaded our packs in the car and drove down to Olympia for the night. Olympia is not exactly closer to the Olympics than Seattle is, but it’s effectively closer because Puget Sound isn’t in the way. We could have taken the ferry, but that would have taken more time, especially in Memorial Weekend traffic. We drove the long way around instead.

So Friday night we were down in Olympia, getting ready for bed, and I managed to step on my glasses and break one of the hinges. I was devastated. What awful timing! I told Jeff that I wanted to call off the trip and go back to Seattle right at that moment, but that wasn’t exactly true; I didn’t know what I wanted. Finally I told Jeff to find me some tape, and he brought waterproof first-aid tape. I bound my glasses together, and it looked like the tape would hold. The trip was back on.

Saturday, 28 May

At 5:30 we hauled our sorry carcasses out of bed. Shower (last one for three days!), toast, and we were on the road at 7:00. We got to the ranger station outside Port Angeles by about 9:45 and were on the trail just after 10:30.

The Heather Park trail surpassed my wildest expectations. It climbed relentlessly uphill, but I liked that; if I know I’m at 2,000 ft. and the campsite is at 5,500 ft., I don’t want any downhill at all because I know I’m just going to have to make up that elevation again. I think I took only about 15 downhill steps (losing about 3 feet of elevation) on that whole climb. Every step counted.

I may be a masochist to like the steep climb, but everyone should appreciate the scenery. The first mile or so was filled with lush ferns and greens, and then we climbed through trees and brown underbrush until we came out on the side of a sub-alpine ridge overlooking Port Angeles and the Strait of Juan de Fuca. On a clear day (which this was) it is possible to see across the Strait to Vancouver Island.

As we entered the alpine meadows, trees gave way to shrubs and flowers. I don’t know what these flowers are called, but they sure are pretty.

By the time we rolled into camp, both Jeff and I were tired but happy with ourselves. I still had to pause frequently for breath, but Jeff says that I hiked faster than I used to and covered much more ground between pauses. I found this very encouraging, especially since Saturday’s hike was the hardest one I’d been on recently. We set up camp in The Best Campsite Ever (according to Jeff) and looked forward to easier hikes over the next two days.

Sunday, 29 May

Sunday morning we woke up to one of the oddest sights of my whole life. The land below was covered in clouds! I thought it must be fog, but Jeff said that they could well be low-lying clouds. After all, we were at 5,500 ft. above sea level. It looks like he was right; we’ve been told that Sunday was cloudy for those below.

We broke camp and got on the trail at 8:15. The trail climbed steeply but briefly to Heather Park itself, a pretty little meadow that I have been told is filled with wildflowers in August. From this saddle point in the ridge, we could see west to more mountains and southwest to Mount Angeles, the nearest looming mountain. Jeff, of course, climbed the highest rock he could find.

On Saturday afternoon, just when our spirits were flagging, Jeff and I had met a hiker returning from Heather Park. He had passed us on his way up, while we were having lunch and didn’t see him, and he had made it to Heather Park before turning back. He said he had intended to do the whole 12 miles in one day, but he turned back when he lost the trail on a sandy slope after Heather Park. We saw his tracks on the talus slope; he went down way too far. I kind of wonder how he lost the trail, because I didn’t have any trouble. However, it was probably lucky for him, because I certainly wouldn’t have wanted to tackle that part of the trail alone.

Up to Heather Park, the trail is maintained and in good shape. Between Heather Park and Klahhane Ridge, the trail is unmaintained. This is not because no one uses the trail or wants to maintain it; it is quite simply unmaintainable. More than half that section of trail runs across steep, very exposed talus slopes, many with drops of hundreds of feet below. Even with a companion, you might be out of luck if you slip. Alone, I wouldn’t set foot there.

But man, it was gorgeous.

When we got to the next saddle point we were caught up by the other group that had spent the night at Heather Park. They hike faster, but we had started earlier. We traded cameras and took pictures (that’s the trouble with not having very many other hikers around!), then they broke for lunch while Jeff and I continued down the other (eastern) side of the ridge.

Can you guess what was on the other side of the saddle? If you said talus, you must be psychic. In fact, there was a lot of talus and some snow as well. Snow isn’t necessarily a problem; we had snow on the other side of the ridge and got through it just fine. Unfortunately, this snow had been melting in the sun all morning. Thick snow is okay for traction, and the talus trail was okay too, but thin slushy snow just makes the rock slippery.

I stepped on some too-thin snow, slipped, and went sliding down the mountain!

Surprisingly enough, I did not panic. I exerted as much friction as I could and managed to stop myself not too far down, but then when I tried to move, I just destabilized myself and went sliding down the snow again. I flipped myself onto my front, stopped myself again, and then crawled onto the talus, where I dug my knees again and took stock. My hands were cold, but that was okay, the sun would warm them. I was bleeding from some shallow scratches, but those didn’t matter; I could clean and bandage them later if necessary. Nothing sprained, twisted, or broken. Good. One of my pink Nalgene bottles was at the edge of the snow above me; I’d get that on the way up. I had about 150 feet of loose rock between me and the trail. I was strangely calm; I suppose I didn’t see the point of panicking. I quailed at the thought of climbing all the way back up, but at the same time I didn’t see any other possible outcome. I would get back up, that’s all there was to it.

Meanwhile, Jeff ran across the talus (below the snow patch I’d slipped on, smart of him), threw down his pack, grabbed his rope, and started climbing down to meet me. Soon our four friends from Heather Park caught up again, and one of them had some rope too. He gave one end to Jeff and tied the other end around his waist, so we had a kind of double safety line to keep us from falling.

Next to the column of snow I had slipped on was a big rocky outcropping with some stunted trees and other grasses growing on it, so it was relatively stable. Jeff climbed down on this rock and threw the rope to me, and although I couldn’t quite reach it from my stable position, it was close enough that I believed I could get there. I heaved and ran up the slope, lifting a foot two feet and sliding back one foot for every step, and somehow I got there. I tied a bowline knot (also known as a rescue bowline) around my chest, thankful that I had made Jeff teach me some basic knots. A bowline knot is very strong and makes a loop (a bight) that will neither tighten nor loosen. I was very glad that I could just tie that knot and know that I could trust it.

Once I had the rope around me, I felt better. I still had to climb the hill under my own power, but at least Jeff could keep me from losing any ground. In fits and starts I groped my way up the hill, until I was roughly level with Jeff. At that point he told me to cross the snow to the rock, which I did. While this was surely progress in the long run, in the short run I ended up lying on the crack between slushy snow and slippery almost-vertical rock, without any clue about how I was going to get out of there.

But I still had Jeff’s hiking stick around my wrist. I shortened it as far as it would go, unscrewed the tip to bare the pointy end, dug the point as far as it would go into the snow and gravel, and heaved. Jeff heaved on the rope at the same time, and somehow (I’m not sure how) I got up off that snow and onto solid rock. You wouldn’t believe how good that rock felt to me. It was like bread to a starving man.

Did I mention that I climbed all the way up that hill with a full pack? Everything that went down that hill came back up with me.

Once I made it up to the top of the rock, the others told me I could sit down and rest. But that wouldn’t do for me; I had fallen off the trail so dammit, I was climbing back to the trail, and nothing was going to stop me. I hauled myself the last few feet up the slope, sat down on the edge of the trail, and broke into hysterical laughter.

Unfortunately, we still had to climb a steep slope of talus covered with snow in order to get to Klahhane Ridge. The only alternative was to go back to Heather Park by the trail that we had just crossed. Neither choice was particularly appealing, and I was terrified of falling again. Eventually I agreed to follow Jeff. He took a lot of the weight from my pack (which I very much appreciated, because I had expended a lot of energy in climbing) and led the way for me. We were careful, and we made our way to the ridge without falling again.

The trail across Klahhane Ridge was maintained and therefore solid, but it was about 1½ ft. wide for most of the way and wound across the very top of the ridge, with many very exposed slopes below. It was gorgeous, but I still didn’t like the idea of falling. Even worse was the fact that we were being baked by the sun, and I had already drunk almost all of my two quarts of water by the time I slipped. Jeff still had some of his, but it wasn’t enough. The ridge was very long, and there was no water to be found. By the time we found a stream of melted snow, on the descent from the ridge to Lake Angeles, we were parched.

The descent was steep and tiring, but the lake was beautiful. The trail dropped onto the other side of the ridge next to the lake, which frustrated Jeff until he got to the lake, looked back toward the southern end of the lake, and saw that it was bordered by a sheer rock cliff. Sometimes trails are designed in a sensible fashion.

We took the first campsite we found, went to bed early, and slept soundly.

Monday, 30 May

I was very sore on Monday morning. I think Jeff was too, although he did not complain as much. We broke camp as quickly as possible and hiked slowly down the mountain, hampered by my stiff knees. I find it very ironic that it is now much easier for me to hike uphill than downhill. Eventually we made it back to the trailhead (much rejoicing!) and drove back to Olympia, where we showered, rested, and ate pickles. I drank about 11 quarts of water over the weekend, and I think I depleted my supply of electrolytes. I ate about half a jar of pickles, and they tasted like the best thing in the world right then.

Final note

I would not exclude the possibility of doing this hike again, and in fact I would enjoy it. However, I have asked Jeff to make sure that our next hike is safe and has no steep, open slopes. I’ve had enough exposure for the time being.