Spring '23 Trip: Part 2

Dates: June 2-5, 2023

Crew: Monica Mah, Kai Cui, Matej Sebo

Locations: Olympic NP: Enchanted Valley and Quinault Rainforest, Billy Frank Jr. Nisqually NWR

Middle of Nowhere or Middle Earth?

The trail to Enchanted Valley takes you down the East Fork of the Quinault River past deep blue waters, dark cliffs, dense rainforest, and alpine peaks. The Valley itself is the endpoint of the trail, a calm open space nestled in between two tall snowy mountain ridges that pour thousands of waterfalls down to feed the river. An old chalet, now a ranger lodge, stands on the bank of the river against all odds in a place where you can only reach by foot now. You can do the 26-total mile out-and-back as an extremely strenuous day hike or backpack it and enjoy yourself a bit, which we did. 

After the end of our car-camping time in the rest of Olympic, we woke up refreshed in our Ruby Beach campground and set off towards the Quinault Rainforest, which hides Enchanted Valley in its depths. The plan was to take 3 days to do the out and back, with a night in the middle camping in the valley itself. I was fortunate to have been invited by Monica because permits for this trip are very competitive and they had already secured one.

Day 1: Across the Pony Bridge

The graves creek trailhead is the end of a long drive into the middle of nowhere. We unloaded our packs and suited up, walking across the large bridge that quite literally starts your crossing into the wilderness. It takes you high over the rushing Quinault River and straight into the heart of the rainforest.

After a few consecutive bridge crossings, we became more entombed by the woods to the point that I could not even hear the roaring water anymore. More day-hikers filled the trail here, just going out a few miles and then turning back as we steadily tromped uphill and on. After 2 miles we began to hear water again and soon came to Pony Bridge (and its self-titled camp), where the water was a vibrant turqoise-blue and alternated between lazy deep sweeps and shallow rapids sections that raged over rocks and under fallen logs.

After marveling at the water for far too long, and wishing we could go down there and sit in it during this heat of the day, we kept moving. Initially our plan was to find a campsite at O'Neil Creek, which claims to be halfway to Enchanted Valley. After following the trail as it climbed above the river we crossed O'Neil Creek itself on a scenic bridge made from a single giant spruce log. Having some fun with my camera, I set everyone up in a self-portrait crossing the 4 frames of the bridge like the Beatles in Abbey Road. Matej = John, Monica = Ringo, Kai = Paul, and Me as George. I made sure to get the key detail: Paul McCartney is out of step with the other 3. Coincidentally, this also lined Kai up as the only one in the sun. Symbolic? Perhaps. Anyway, I got them set up and had the 10 second timer of my camera to sprint across the rocks and logs to get up and posed in line before it went off. 

Shortly after the creek itself was the campsite of the same name. We realized it was only 2pm; we had much of the day left still for hiking. The campsite sign at the trail is also well above the locations of the sites, so we went to scout what was open and realized all the "good" sites on the river were occupied and we would be relegated to a land-locked site with no shade... after some debate we flipped a coin, and the almighty coin told us to keep it moving. So onwards we push! 

After O'Neil we crossed No-Name Creek (literally, that's the name) and came into a more low-lying forest environment where huge sitka spruce made a cathedral-like roof and kept the undergrowth relatively thin due to the shadiness. We continued on to the last major campsite before the valley- Pyrites Creek. Pyrites had plenty of site options to choose from, ranging in bands from near the trail all the way down to right along the rocky banks of the river. We set up in the outermost layer of trees with the river in sight, but sheltered from wind and sun.

After a leisurely 4 miles of hiking, we gradually got closer to the water level and could tell we were coming into the valley. The final obstacle was a narrow bridge with one handrail only, crossing some 50 feet above the rocks and rapids of the Quinault. Then we were across, and the trees began to open up, revealing two massive ridges of mountains penning us in. At the far end of the valley where they met, snowy peaks jutted out. 

As we closed in on the main clearing of the valley, the mountain ridges on each side seemed to become almost vertical walls, and thousands of waterfalls came into focus, bringing meltwater down to feet the river. The historic chalet came into view as we approached the camp. It was originally built in 1931 by an enterprising family who ran it as a destination lodge for travelers who would come on foot and horse. It was then used as an aircraft warning service station in WW2, fell out of use, was restored, and now stands as a ranger use building and registered national historic place. We briefly checked it out but no rangers were around and we weren't allowed in.

After a quick scout around the available sites, we settled on one of the few that had trees for me to string a hammock from. We scrambled our way down to the river to filter water, seeing that some brave folks had crossed it and set up camps on the opposite bank. It actually was only 2pm today, and I wanted to get some more miles on my legs. I convinced Monica to join me on a hike up to Anderson pass, the high perch where you can overlook the valley as well as on to the Olympic mountains beyond. Many different long-distance backpacking routes pass through here as a portal. It would be a long day to tack on the 13 mile round trip and 3000 feet of elevation gain to reach the 4600' pass and get back before dark, but I was confident we could do it if we kept some pep in our step. Kai and Matej decided that was a little too ambitious and they would find some more relaxed day hiking to do.

Almost immediately after hiking past the last few tents we ran into a traffic jam- two groups of hikers were stalled on the trail because a black bear was browsing through the nearby clearing for lunch. We collectively watched and snapped pictures until he wandered a bit away, then hurriedly slipped by to continue our hiking. Monica and Kai had been talking about wanting to see a bear all week, so we were thrilled but really hoped Kai and Matej would wander that way and (safely) meet him before he was gone.

The first two miles of the hike were a steady ascent in the shelter of the forest. Many of the waterfalls that ended up in the valley ran through here on their descent, so we braved stream crossing after stream crossing. This culminated in a bold crossing of a narrow fallen branch over a 15-foot torrent, with a leftward fall meaning pitching over a small cliff and down a violent rapids. When we reached this spot, a group ahead of us was frozen with indecision at it, so Monica and I made our crossing with impressed spectator section commentary. They decided to turn back despite our success.

Once we exited the forest, patches of snow became more and more prevalent. For the most part we were able to follow tracks but at one point they disappeared entirely at a forked snowfield. One way looked completely impassable over a wall of snow, so we followed the other. Monica equipped her microspikes that she thoughtfully brought, and I committed to having wet and cold feet at this point. We trudged through a half mile of snowfields before coming to a wide open one that had a sign for O'Neil pass at the base of it... not the correct pass. We then backtracked to our initial decision point where we saw that melting snow had broken off and revealed another sign for Anderson Pass, pointing (of course) over the giant wall of snow. Monica offered her microspikes for me to make the initial scouting pass, but I thought I'd be okay. After clambering up, I plunged through to my knee almost immediately- and could also hear the sound of running water beneath the surface- very spooky. We managed to cross without incident though, and then it really became a snow hike. We were far past the last other hikers we'd seen at this point...but dammit I wanted to get to that pass so we kept on.

Finally, we reached the pass, where a window opens up to let you slip between 7,000' peaks and continue deeper into the Olympic Mountains. We'd made good time, about 2 hours having passed since we made camp down in the valley, but it was already beginning to approach twilight. Thinking we still had a chance at making it back before sunset, we took our victory pictures at the pass and swiftly began backtracking. I showed Monica how to plunge-step, a skill I got very good at on Mt. Shasta just a week ago, and started plunging a path for her to follow. We absolutely blazed down the snowfields, but about the time we re-crossed the white wall, I realized it was too late. The sun dipped behind the gathering thick clouds and was as good as gone.

Fortunately, going 6 miles downhill with no accidental detour is much easier than the reverse. We got back to camp starving and ready for dinner. Kai and Matej were stoking a fire and clouds were sweeping over the nearby ridge, bringing chilly evening air with them. A perfect night to settle back and enjoy delicious freeze-dried lasagna.

Finally the clouds won their battle against the western ridge and broke over top of them, flowing down into the valley. I was really pleased with some of the photos I got out of this, showing layers of stone immersed in the mist, gray evening light fading everything together mysteriously.

And finally, I settled my sore legs into my hammock, throwing on the rain tarp in case the clouds decided to do something other than look cool. Falling asleep to the faint sound of countless waterfalls is a must-do for those who haven't.

Day 3: Leaving Paradise

Not long after the forest swallowed up views of the mountains and sounds of the waterfalls, Kai was gifted with exactly what she'd been lamenting on missing out on- a view of a black bear lounging in a sun-filled meadow (it turned out they heard about the one yesterday but a ranger had gone and scared it away already when they got there). This one was at a more comfortable distance from us, so I had no worries about moving around a bit to try and get its good side :)

Finally, the bear ambled into the brush and was gone. We were slightly concerned he might come out ahead of us on the trail if we didn't get going, so we hiked on. When we returned to the fallen monarch, we decided to stage a group photo, which I was becoming an expert at pulling off by this point.

We thought we'd call it a day at Pyrites creek but hiked so fast and felt so good, we just kept on rolling;. All the way to Pony Bridge, just a couple miles from the trailhead, where we knew we could have a super easy morning. Pony Bridge may have been Monica and Kai's sneaky favorite campsite on the whole trip with its blue-green water and comfy mossy ground to relax on. After we picked our perfect site, I went exploring, wanting to find a way down the 30-foot cliffs to the level of the river. After a bit of routefinding and plowing through one campsite accidentally, I had my way down. I got down to a black sand beach and was thrilled to find a fairy cave with overhanging ferns, moss, and vines filling its entryway. The girls couldn't get down there fast enough to take pictures in it.

The other fun discoveries from the river level were twofold. First, we'd found a small backwater formed by an upstream log, meaning the vicious current took a break near our little beach. Monica and Kai waded, but I was content to enjoy the second discovery: quicksand! A perfect mixture of the fine black sand and river water meant that standing in one patch of it sent you on a slowly sinking journey to the underworld.

I kicked back in my hammock and finished reading Desert Solitaire, my backpacking paperback that I picked up in Traverse City so long ago at the start of this trip. Highly recommend for readers who love the idea of getting intimate with a misanthropic park ranger's crazy thoughts and misadventures!

The hike out was relaxing and easy- we were back at the car in no time, with nothing left for the day but making it back to Seattle to catch our flights. Rather than ferry back to Seattle, we would drive down and around the sound, passing through Olympia and Tacoma on the way back. Never ever have I been content to drive by another park without a stop, so I convinced the car we could use a mid-drive break and leg-stretching hike at Billy Frank Jr. Nisqually Wildlife Refuge just outside Olympia.

Billy Frank Jr. Nisqually National Wildlife Refuge

Located at the far south end of Puget Sound on the Nisqually river delta, BFJNNWR (what a mouthful) protects an estuary, salt marsh, and mudflats that are a habitat for aquatic life and migratory birds. The hikes are short, developed, and flat, which was just what the doctor ordered for everyone's legs after the hour in the car had us all locked up tighter than an Enchanted Valley Chalet. We started on a nice gravel trail past a twin set of historic round barns and idyllic farmland.

Signs around the barns had us all on the lookout for migratory songbirds but for the most part we were treated with views of geese and ducks. One tree had these very tiny birds hopping around in its branches at lightspeed, frustrating me to no end as I tried to capture them with a lens very much not built for that task. Continuing on we went down the Nisqually Estuary boardwalk trail, a full mile-length boardwalk leading over the tidal flats. It was low tide, so the water was pulled back, leaving mud fields all around us. Aquatic birds wheeled overhead, picking out easy prey left in the mud, and a bald eagle appeared (they are everywhere in WA!) on the boardwalk.

At the end of the boardwalk, a beautiful little cliff swallow was darting back and forth around the gazebo, tempting me with its little red throat and white belly. I tried to track it, but it was simply too fast and I resigned to putting my camera on full auto mode and blind firing hoping to catch it. It really felt like the little bastard was taunting me. In the end I got one usable picture...small victories?

With views of the Olympics and Mt. Baker along the way, we had our fill of mountains but the true prize came at the end of the boardwalk. Once you're far enough out from the trees, Mt. Rainier grows taller and taller on the horizon, dominating your view. I drank it in, knowing that I was just one month out from attempting to climb it with Martin as I'd been waiting to do since last summer's fateful Mt. Baker/Rainier trip.

With the fun finally over, we took on the most important adventure of the day: finding dinner. A hearty feast of bento box, korean fried chicken, dumplings, and sushi later I was full, happy, and back in my Texas Buc-cees shirt. We returned the rental car, went to the airport, and one at a time flew away. I was the last one left in the airport to watch the sunset paint the sky orange before boarding my plane back to Houston. I was sad to be going, but so glad knowing I would be back in just a month, and this time with a mountain to climb. See you soon, Seattle.