Trip Report for Grand Ridge
Where: Olympic National Park
When: Saturday, September 6, 2014
Stats: 5.0 miles round trip – 700 foot elevation gain
Going on this hike has been a little bit of a personal odyssey for me. It was one of the first hikes I identified back in March as something I wanted to do this year. I considered it back in April but went to Lake Angeles instead. I put it on the list as the hike for June 1st, only to realize that Obstruction Point road was still under several feet of snow at that time (we went to Rattlesnake Ledge instead). I put it back on the list for September 6th, thinking that would be late enough in the year for it to become accessible. Then I watched the National Parks Service’s web site to see what was going on with the road. Still closed by the end of June… Still closed by the end of July… Obstruction Point Road did not open for the season until the middle of August. Talk about cutting it close!
Keith, Justin, and I left from my apartment a few minutes after 8:00 and had no trouble getting on the 8:50 ferry, which definitely set us up for success as far as getting our travel on track. Out of nine hikes this year, so far, this was my fifth trip to the Olympic Peninsula, so much of the drive was quite familiar to me. It was, however, my first trip into Olympic National Park in something like six years, and I think this was Justin’s first trip over to that part of our beautiful state. It’s always amazing to travel a route that takes you from the Puget Sound, through the green and forested slopes of the eastern Olympics, into the rain shadow near Sequim, along the coast of the Straight of Juan de Fuca, and finally up into the heart of the mountains themselves. Really, if you’ve never done this job you are missing out in an unbelievable way.
The drive into the Park and up to Hurricane Ridge is truly fantastic. The road is in absolutely perfect condition, smooth and well graded, all the way from the entrance gates up to the parking lot at the top. We stopped at the visitor center for a restroom break after our three hour drive, enjoyed the mountain air and sights, before launching on the last leg of our journey.
Obstruction Point Road. Oh, Obstruction Point Road, you lived up to all my wildest hopes and imaginings for you. You were rocky and rutted. You charged down canted slopes with no concern for safety or sanity. You bounded up and over mountain shoulders, sneering at the idea of acceptable visibility. You scoffed at guard rails and advised that we “man up” if we didn’t like it, but oh, we liked it, because of what you gave us in return for our white knuckles and clutched restraints. Your vistas amazed us. Your sunlight and fresh air enlivened us. Your dramatic reveals caught the breath from our lungs and caused no few exclamations. In short, you were wonderful!
There were several points along the drive, while I was reveling in the majesty of Obstruction Point Road, when I may have commented on how we were likely to have the trailhead mostly to ourselves. As it turns out I was dead wrong. It was crowded! Luckily I found an ok spot, just short of the parking lot, and we got our feet underneath us and our packs on our backs.
There are several trails that leave from that spot but I confidently directed us on to the path I believed to be right (this is called “foreshadowing”, in case you don’t remember highschool English class). We began a fairly rapid climb that opened up many scenes to our eyes and lenses. I have always been a fan of the rugged beauty to be found above the tree line, and this hike did not disappoint. The towering forest giants and lush undergrowth so much a part of the image of western Washington are notably in abeyance here, giving way instead to stunted pines and low-growing species more likely to be yellow, red, and brown than green. Rocks surround you, whether in the form of boulder gardens or talus slopes. The sun beats down on your head and the wind tugs at your clothing. It can appear to be, and is, a harsh place, but if you look closely it thrives with life. Those ground-hugging plants are beds of wildflowers in the right season. Numerous insects flit about. Ravens wheel and soar overhead.
The trail was narrow and sinuous, winding around the terrain in a seemingly haphazard fashion, but always carrying us deeper and deeper into the mountains. Looking back we could see down to the trail head and catch glimpses of the road. Looking forward we were staring into the heart and soul of the Olympic Mountains. After a time we also began to be able to see down toward the north and off to the east. The Straight of Juan de Fuca came into view. The Cascades, so very far away, stood revealed. I don’t believe there are many places on this planet where you can stand in the midst of one mountain range while looking at the ramparts of another. Mount Baker showed himself as we hiked along, as did Glacier Peak.
Eventually we got to a point where we thought we could rest and have some lunch. We hiked away from the main trail and up a smaller ridge. Justin scrambled up a rocky summit but we decided the saddle we had just crossed was probably the best place for us to stop. I set up the tripod and took some pictures to be made into panoramas. We all had some food. We had climbed the mountains and gotten their glad tidings, and then it was time to return. We retraced our steps and it was not long at all before we got back to the trailhead. Before that, though, while we were still a little ways up, it became apparent that we had snagged the one and only parking spot, anywhere around, that had shade. Win!
Back at the car we took a look at the guidebook (this was the only hike this year where I left the book in the car) and realized that we had followed the wrong trail! None of the trails on the sign are labelled for Grand Ridge, so we took the one I thought was right. Oops! Ultimately, though, we agreed that it really didn’t matter. We had a wonderful time, experienced amazing things, and now have a good excuse to come back. Come back? Yeah, we’ll definitely be back. “We are now in the mountains and they are in us.”
The last thing of note, on this trip, did not happen in the mountains nor on the drive. It happened on the ferry ride home from Kingston to Edmonds. We were standing on the lowest level of the boat, just looking off to one side, when we saw something pop briefly out of the water. I thought it might have been a seal poking its head up. But then it happened again and again and again, and we realized what we were seeing. As the ferry was steaming along there was a large school of Dahl’s Porpoises racing along in the opposite direction! Over the five minutes or so that we watched we must have seen a couple dozen of them. This was such a cool way to end the day, and was especially exciting for me since it is the first time in twelve years of riding Washington ferries that I’ve seen marine mammals from the water like this.
Leave a Reply