Dear Olympic National Park,
It’s not you, it’s me.
Usually, I like knowing something about my destination before I get there, especially when I’m planning to visit a National Park. I’ll make a point of scanning the internet or paging through some travel books, gathering information about your geography and your attractions before my arrival.
For starters, it gives me a better sense of how close we can get to you, which is important to me, considering I have little interest in a long-distance relationship.
But this time around, I didn’t do my homework. I suppose I could blame it on solar eclipse fever— my frantically searching for totality-zone accommodations in Oregon—such that I skipped an Olympic step and planned without thinking clearly.
Instead of settling by Port Angeles—at the north gate of your park—we arranged to camp by Lake Cushman on Skokomish tribal land near your Staircase entrance. At the time we made our reservations, it looked like a good fit. But in hindsight, it turns out we were too far from many of the features that make your park so formidable and special.
I realize now how different things could have been between us. Given another chance, I would gladly coast across the coarse black sands of your rugged Pacific shore to admire your infinite tidepools, or marvel at the sea stacks and arches stretching across a sunset-lit horizon. I would have loved to stroll through your lush forests by the Hoh rain forest just to gape at the massive cedar and spruce trees that serve in the company of Mt. Olympus (your highest peak) and the many glaciers that ring her summit. Ahh, what could have been!
But things being as they are, the powers of Mt. Olympus had a different plan for us. It wasn’t terrible… it was just different.
We approached you from Olympic National Forest, with views across the east bank of Lake Cushman.
You probably don’t remember me—since you’re the seventh most popular park in the nation, with nearly 3 million visitors a year—but we first met after I passed your tiny isolated gatehouse powered by a whirring 1500 watt Honda generator.
I know I shouldn’t have sworn at you when I realized my mistake. Please consider it more of an over-reaction to a situation that I couldn’t correct after your ranger informed me that Staircase was a remote access point without roads to any other part of you.
However, she graciously told us of a nifty loop hike through an old growth forest that followed Skokomish River. And so, with few other options on the table, we set out to hike the Rapids Loop Trail as a way of discovering something about your ecosystems.
The bridge to the trailhead was a fitting place for lunch, providing river views north…
… and south of us.
Walking upriver, we encountered the remains of an ancient cedar,
and an active cedar that pierced the sky.
Along the river, the pace quickened…
… but had little impact on the chunky boulders crowned in moss,
or a fallen giant we passed on our return.
We completed our afternoon at the Visitors Center in Hoodsport, grateful for an internet connection and the advice of a local outdoorsman who persuaded us to explore the Hood Canal from a higher perspective the following day.
The park map offered few details of our route, but the turnoff to Duckabush Road was clearly marked. Seven miles in and we were surrounded by Olympic National Forest. The further we penetrated the backcountry, the more isolated we felt.
“At least there’s no crowd where we’re going,” I reminded Leah.
NF-2510 split just past Collins campground, providing us with a fresh choice. According to the map, the fork to the left ran into the Duckabush River. But the right fork—a one-lane rutted road disappearing into the Brothers Wilderness—was precisely the challenge I needed to shake off my mistake.
At first, the road meandered through a dense forest, until we began our ascent. As the F-150 climbed higher and higher, I was inclined to drift closer to the mountain wall in defense of the unstable cliffside that had given way in places from repeated flood damage. It felt so risky, and we were giddy with fear. Seeing a huge fallen tree stump ahead in the road initially caused concern. Would the road be wide enough to pass it?
“This was a huge mistake! What if we’re stuck here?” Leah panicked. “There’s no room to turn around, and there’s no way fucking way you’re backing out of here!”
Creeping towards the barricade, I engaged the 360° camera view on the dashboard monitor while Leah coached from the right side. Holding my breath, we cleared the obstacle by inches on the right, as the left side of the truck kicked gravel over the open side of the road.
But it was too soon to celebrate. There was more road in front of us, and we were still climbing. As the elevation rose, the trees eventually gave way to a valley view of Hood Canal.
Leah was emphatic. “I think we’ve gone far enough,” she expressed. “And you finally have a place to turn around.”
“What’s the fun in that,” I overruled, “when we’re so close to the top.”
After fifty minutes of driving six nail-biting miles, I needed a bigger reward than the view at hand. I was hoping for wide open spaces at the end of the road.
It was only another mile of switchbacks to the top, and perhaps the easiest mile traveled—most likely the result of a recent forest fire that groomed the hillside of old growth pines.
We arrived to a field of maturing fireweed, firing off thick bursts of puffy seeds that floated through the air like a bubble cloud over our heads.
We roamed around the damaged summit, finding crushed beer cans, campfire rings filled with debris, and shell casings one-hundred paces away from target practice paper. It must have been a wild and crazy party that we missed.
The ride down the mountain (what I believe was Mt. Jupiter) was uneventful, although this time the tree stump was on my side, and Leah got a chance for a glance down the cliff.
An hour later, we were driving up a paved road to the lookout atop Mt. Walker, with views from the north face…
…and views to the south, and the contrast couldn’t have been more startling.
And so, Olympic National Park, I think we got off on the wrong foot. It might have been the right time, but it must have been the wrong place. Still, I hope it’s possible for us to hang out together in the near future, now that I’ve been to the mountaintop and seen the light.
Yours truly,
Neal and Leah
Thanks for the compliment, and for visiting the archives. Sometimes, I forget how much territory has been covered in such a brief time. Keeping momentum across the country has only allowed a short window at each destination, but has made us so much wiser when it comes to choosing where we’d like to return for a prolonged and closer look. And it looks like the Pacific Northwest ranks right up there as a place we will readily rediscover.
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Oh, I miss Washington so much… The photographs are gorgeous. You will just have to return and see even more. I’m biased, but I think Washington and Oregon are the most gorgeous parts of the country I’ve experienced. Rain and all.
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I’ve never had a chance to take the wrong entrance into Olympic National Park but based on your stunning photos I may have to do so in the future. Thanks for the escape…..
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So much for learning from other people’s mistakes…
Although the bigger lesson learned is: a wrong turn is not always the wrong way.
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Wrong turns are the best way to have adventures! My Dad was famous for getting lost – a neat trick he passed along to me.
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We learn from the best. Nature or nurture?
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Can you please promote my blog as I’m a new blogger and you are an experienced one so plz help me
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My best advice is to continue writing and photographing. We all start from nothing. Show off your best work using the Community forums for feedback.
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Thanku so much so nice of you I’ll follow your advice and plzzzz follow me
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Great blog can u tell since when you’ve been blogging?
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Thanks, Noor. It’s been 5 months since my journey began, with another 7 months of travel ahead.
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Ohhh today’s amazing so how did you get so many followers this much early? Can you plz tell me some idea so that I can promote my blog or plz of you want you can also promote my blog ☺
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Use social media. Get your friends and family to follow you, and have them help you spread the word. More than anything, write for yourself, not an audience. If it’s good, others will find you.
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But why you’re not following me plz I don’t even have a single follower😣
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You can also read my blog plzz read them http://noor6778.wordpress.com
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Thanks for the gorgeous pictures and interesting read. Best to you in your travels, Connie Rosser Riddle
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Thanks, Connie.
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What was it that Yvon Chouinard said… “Adventure is what happens when everything goes wrong.” Great images, awesome description. Really looking forward to following your travels!
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So true, but I’ll accept a little bit of “went right” every so often. Thanks for the follow.
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Wonderful writing and photography! I love your sense of humor and adventure. Travelers after our own hearts!
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Thanks, Mike. What’s the fun if you can’t laugh?
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Reblogged this on BCSBook Reviews and News.
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We are developing a game based on tourism, your blog is seems very helpful 🙂
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Tell me how it’s helpful?
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Having never been to Olympic National Park or Washington state for that matter, I’m awe inspired by your pictures. A friend of mine was there a couple weeks ago and I recognize…I think…the ancient cedar tree and the field of purple flowers from his pictures. He was there bicycling and tent camping.
Thank you for sharing your travel adventures! You’re doing what I had dreamed I’d be doing about this time in my life, before the big “D”. Now I have new dreams, new adventures!
Looking forward to your next destination!
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Thanks, Kim. My mantra: Live your dreams while you can still dream.
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