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Home Sweet Home, Olympic National Park |
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I am incredulously writing this trip report an entire month after the events took place, relying on my slowly dwindling memory. This hiking season has really sucked, but Amber and I finally took the leap to get into the Olympics after the thaw and before the fires. At this rate, it will be snowing before all the snow is gone. Strange year, indeed.
As Graves Creek road was closed (along with many others), I took a day off from work to get us in before the weekend crowds hit. The original game plan was to head up the North fork Skokomish and thump our way down into the Duckabush drainage before climbing up the steep grade to Marmot, Lacrosse and Hart Lakes. Of course, that was the plan even as we read reports of lingering snow.
We cruised up the valley in a rather quick pace enjoying the peace and quiet, looking at scenery Amber has seen a few times before. We looked forward to Big Log Camp tonight as it meant a shorter day tomorrow. Amber pulled out a Snickers, something she never seems to tire of, while I pulled out thoughts I had to chew on during the walk.
Barely more than an hour got us to the Flapjack Lakes junction. We reminisced about the last time she saw the lakes; sunny, warm, with fish floating all over their surface. I loved how I felt then, but was bothered by how I felt now.
I let Amber tromp ahead while I pondered at a slower pace. I really wanted to get into the state of mind that I was in a year ago, but the hundreds of miles a week I have been riding along with living a more typical, domestic lifestyle encompassed me in a mental suit of armor that was not allowing me to feel the area I was walking through.
Amber tried to get me back by reminding me of all the leaf faces we have seen over the years. All it did was enlighten me in the contrast of how I felt then and now. I needed to get more trail miles in, but this years hiking season has been downright crappy at best.
We strolled into Big Log in the fading light as I got camp set up while Amber found a few scraps of wood. The place was too clean and overused, but cozy, close to the river, and all ours. I expected, as I have not been in the back country much this year, that I would be homesick or spooked, but it was just business as usual, almost artificial. I knew from experience what to do, and that was it. I prayed I would feel more sensitive to the beauty I was in tomorrow. I prayed.
Light seeped in between the slits of my eyes as I slowly opened them. The stars were so vivid last night as they twinkled Amber and I into a deep sleep. I honestly do not recall a time I have slept as well in the forest. I lay flat with puffy tubes of down surrounding me as I craned my neck back to stare at the deep-blue, cloudless sky. I felt anticipation, and that was good. Anticipation slowly erodes the shield formed by modern life at home.
We packed up quick before the climb back to the Skokomish with no set plan in mind. I really wanted to see the lakes, but a hiker reported really bad snow bridges along the route. Snow bridges, in August, preposterous, I thought. Amber just wanted me to keep hiking and stop analyzing. It was hard not to complain, though as we wandered through Camp Pleasant. Bob and my first trip up the Skokomish was a memorable one, but now everything was torn up, even our old campsite was long gone - washed away by floods.
I walked silently just in front of Amber who I could hear singing far behind me. I just could not help to think of what a week out here would do, or even two. Would that be enough to get me back to the state-of-mind I was in a year ago? Then, what would happen once I was home? Would I give up the plan of racing next year?
a large debris flow snapped me out of my pondering trance. It was a real mess, but I was half willing to climb up the thing to see where it started.
En route, Amber glanced down to see the remains of a deer skull. She got her PCT trail name "Fossil" for a reason and was quite pleased with her discovery.
We passed Nine Stream and began the climb out of the valley. The mountains around me were stunning with some still wearing their winter blankets. It helped motivate me and gave me hope that this shield would wear off sooner than later.
As we began the steeper, bushier climbing sections, Amber started slowing, complaining that her hip was starting to hurt again. Actually, it was her Sartorius muscle that she overworked on Helens a month ago. We took a short break for her to down some vitamin I before lugging further up the valley's head.
While I waited for her to catch up, I tried to get artsy. Some shots turned out amazing well, some were less than poor.
The higher we got, it was like energy was being fed into me. I quickened my pace, but that meant I had to wait longer for Amber to catch up.
We reached Two Bear just in time for a long pack-off break. Amber loved the camp, and hinted of not going any further. I was not hearing it. We had to at least get to the pass which was only a little over two miles away and with no signs of snow yet, it would not take too long to get there.
Break was over and Amber felt a little better after resting and washing her feet. The mucky, sloppy, overgrown trial was in dire need of maintenance, but we just slopped our way through trying to not lose a shoe in the process.
Just past camp at around 4000 feet, snow appeared. I did not worry too much as we were almost at the pass, but Amber was starting to have real trouble. On each step as she lifted her leg, her muscle pain was increasing. The rate in which we were climbing was slowing to a crawl. I shouted words of encouragement to her, but I doubt it did any good.
Just above where the snow began was our first snow bridge. I took the lead, but was actually worried about falling through several feet onto the rocks below. The cave below was big enough to crawl into and the top was very thin, but we made it without incident. I would not have crossed it two days later.
We reached the snow fields just below the pass as I looked around for the frog pond. I knew there was one coming up and I knew it would give Amber the push she needed to make the pass without enduring till tears.
Step after step I looked for the pond as it appeared just four minutes after I tempted Amber. The plan worked. She jumped around the lake like we hadn't even left the truck yet. Only a small section of the lake was melted out, but there were enough frogs to keep her occupied until I got to bored to wait any longer.
After taking a pic of Amber, I had a long sit to think of Uncle Bobby and our trip here six years ago. Time flies, but I was blessed to make it this far with my best friend.
Amber had a rest until she got bored and followed me up to the pass to look around. Looking across the Duckabush drainage, I could see all the basins piled high with snow and made the call to camp somewhere close. Even if we made it across the Duckabush River, to the lake, the thought of camping on snow did not sound too appealing with summer-weight gear.
We humped our way down to Home Sweet Home. I knew it was going to be buggy, but beautiful. We crossed a couple precarious avalanche shoots that still held a lot of snow, but at least it was solid, albeit slippery.
We had the whole area to ourselves and could pick out the best site at our leisure. We chose a place close to shade, but with an awesome view in all directions, and right next a creek shooting off the flanks of Mt. Hopper. Amber was happy with our decision.
I set up camp with our door facing the divide. We scouted around the muddy area, but found only small things to stare at that failed in comparison to Mt. Steel.
Amber made a trip to the compost toilet while I let my surroundings soak in. I felt like I had not worked today. I wanted to see the lakes, to get to that place where I was a year ago; six years ago, but this had to do.
I always wanted to camp at Home Sweet Home and now was my chance. I stopped wishing for more and settled on what was so grand all around me. I took a couple hits of whiskey that I had brought with me and laid back, letting the cool breeze caress me. Amber soon waded through all the flowers on her way back and laid down next to me. I wanted something special for her, something that would help her remember this place.
"Bear!", I shouted. She looked around in amazement while I went back to staring at the sky. She was about 100 yards away just on the other side of the creek foraging like bears do. Amber spent a half hour watching her from the comfort of our shady nook by the creek.
I made dinner, again, and took count in the fact that she does, in fact, eat more than I do on any given trip. Good. She will have to start packing her own food. All these thoughts were internal as I just smiled while she gulped down her chicken with rice before devouring half of our freshly-made cheesecake with blueberry and graham cracker topping.
The sun was starting to set before the first three campers strolled in. They looked in amazement as we were not in the so-called prime spot in the area; where the shelter once stood. I knew better as the place was absolutely crawling with ants and too close to the bear wire. I was not afraid of the wire, but the crowds that would soon be using it.
I sauntered my way to use the toilet, taking pictures the whole distance. Our camp was nearly stealth, and I liked that. We could not see many people from camp, and were quite hidden from them as four more people were heading up to the "Prime" spot.
On my way back, the only thing I could spot from our camp was the top of the tarp at the base of Mt. Hopper. It really was a beautiful spectacle as I grew even happier for choosing to stopping short. No fires tonight, just the stars to keep us company and to light up the area. I felt so at home, so comfortable, I really did wish I had a week to spend in the area, but have already burned up most of my vacation. The shield was wearing thin.
Morning came too soon, but it was Saturday and I knew that this day would bring people and lots of them. There hadn't been a hiking season this year and the fact the season was compressed into a month of good weather, meant one thing; hoards.
Condensation slowed striking camp, but even with cold fingers, thirty minutes got us packed up and hot cocoa into my little one's tummy. We passed the only one of the campers who was awake on our way out. We said hello as she was on a rock, writing in a journal. Quite the spot for contemplation.
We started the long draw towards the pass, which was quite welcome for me. I was chilly, but warming quickly due to the activity. Amber was feeling positively excellent and stayed right with me sans pain from her overworked muscle. We spotted the bear from the day before just on the other side of the creek from our camp. Amber was satisfied.
It was all downhill once we hit the pass. You see, Amber's leg did not hurt going downhill, it only hurt when lifting to climb. Even the climbing did not hurt her, just lifting her leg. So she was a bullet going down as I could barely keep up with her, that is, until we hit the pond. I knew it was cold last night, but the pond that was melted out yesterday had a frozen sheet of ice over it this morning; cold indeed.
With the sun on a different side of the lake, Amber could spot things she couldn't the day before. She leaped for joy in finding massive clusters of frog eggs in the small thawed portion of the ponds outlet. On our way back, I missed the crossing at one of the snow fields and ended up in a burn area. I discovered we had followed the Hopper Way Trail to the Mt. Hopper fire zone from last yet. It was very creepy, but beautiful at the same time.
Finally back on the right trail, we had to take care not to step on the plethora of toads out sunbathing. Amber was in heaven. I just wanted to get back before the hoards arrived.
Again I tried to get artsy and this time it worked. Although the little guy did not stay still too long.
Amber was on fire. With an average of over four miles per hour, she was literally running down the switch backed hills, leaving me far behind. We had ten miles to go, I was not worried as I thought of the tortoise - hare thing. Just then, I remembered this section with Uncle Bobby, and how it used to be a tiny creek walled in with green.
Amber made a privy break while I rested on the picnic table. Still, there was not a sign of the hoard as I wondered if I may have been wrong. Still, we could not stay another day if we wanted to as Amber ate all our food again.
We set a very fast pace to the Flapjack Lakes junction before taking a rest just up the trail from a family right across from the junction. We waited until they left, but they would not leave, so we finally continued on. The mom said they thought I was a bear and were too scared to cross the trail to take the junction. Amber and I laughed our butts off for an hour over that one.
A couple miles from the truck, she decided to run nearly all the way back. We were now into the head of the hoard, so I ran after her, making those two miles fly by quickly. After catching up, she proceeded to taunt me with her hiking stick we found on the way up. Kids!
Once back, I stripped naked and changed into all cotton. The feeling was surreal. Amber did the same, but in the back of the truck. We changed as fast as we could as I have never in my life seen so many cars in an Olympic parking lot. There were cops, rangers, people getting tickets and getting their cars towed. People were arguing with the rangers and peeling out spraying gravel. We were outa here with Home Sweet Home safely tucked away in our memories.
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