GR

Port Townsend, WA to Port Angeles, WA

Section Overview

• Miles: 83.1
• Days: 4
• Total Miles: 1041.3
• Total Days: 48

Day 45

I left Denise and Port Townsend early in the morning, joining the fisherman heading to the docks in the gloom. Denise had insisted I didn’t change my plan for the stretch she was joining for, so I had laid out at 30 mile day out of town. About 6.5 miles were also on Route 20, which had become a familiar road in the past few days. Warnings from pervious hikers helped convince Denise to stay in town a bit longer and take a bus to meet met about 15 miles into the day.

Looking back while writing this, the stretch from Port Townsend was one of the worst for me. I took no photos or videos the entire day. Partially because I had grown bored of the road walking and flat terrain and wanted to be back in the mountains and partially because the stretch on Route 20 was the most dangerous hiking I had done on the trail. The road wound along the cliffs above Discovery Bay, creating frequent blind corners with cars and trucks flying by at 50-60 MPH. Over and over again, I was forced off the nearly non-existent shoulder into the ditch next to the road to let cars go by. A number of times I had to leave the side of the road I was on and run across to the other shoulder.

Eventually after a couple hours of fearing for my life, I reached the junction of Route 20 and Route 101. About 10 minutes later, Denise arrived on the bus and we headed south together along Route 101, which thankfully had a broad shoulder and much less traffic. A few miles later, we ducked off the highway and headed into the foothills of the Olympics.

We made our way into the mountains on old logging roads, uncertain for awhile if we were on private land or not, even as we followed the official trail. At some point we missed a turn, a classic on the PNT, but it turned out we missed out on a bushwhack, which neither of us were complaining about.

Eventually we left the logging roads for a soft trail that gained 1000 feet in about 1/2 a mile to reach the final ridge to our camp for the night. Denise had brought my two person tent and we pitched it near a dilapidated pit toilet before making food and heading to bed.

Day 46

The day began with a quick descent off of Mount Zion before following the contours of the mountains for quite some time. We hiked through the thick woods of the Olympic National Forest, slowly climbing from the valley into the majestic Buckhorn Wilderness.

We reached Buckhorn Pass and were greeted with broad, moody views of the peaks that make up the boundary of the Olympic National Park. I had wanted to come to the Buckhorn Wilderness for years, but plans never materialized. Seeing the views in person confirmed my error for not pulling a trip together. The peaks soaring into the sky from the broad valleys distracted me over and over again as I stopped to take in the views.

We moved through the wilderness area on a wonderful trail to Marmot Pass and before descending toward the Olympic National Park Boundary. The steep climbs and descents had made me completely forget about the miles of pavement pounding across the Puget Sound. I felt more calm placing one foot in front of the other on the dusty trails. The mental toll the roads had taken was not something I had expected on the trail and being back in the mountains gave my legs new life.

We crossed the National Park boundary in a wooded stretch of trail. A small sign, slowly being consumed, warned of the new restrictions we needed to follow. It also marked the start of permit based camping. Thankfully we only had a couple more miles to Home Lake where we would be spending our first night in the park.

We approached Home Lake after a long 27 mile day ready for bed. We found a spot by the lake and set up camp, eating quickly to help recover for another long day the next day. Denise retreated into the tent and I followed after placing our bear cans away from our small camp, happy to be back in the mountains.

Day 47

The day started in a damp cloud at Home Lake. It was chilly by the water, so we packed up quickly and headed farther up into the cloud toward Constance Pass. Thankfully it wasn’t a cold morning because our place was incredibly slow up to Constance Pass. Denise was struggling a bit from the miles we had the day before, which wasn’t a promising sign for the rough terrain we had over the next couple days to reach Obstruction Pass. I had chosen to take the rougher and more scenic route through the eastern section of the Olympics, which would take us over three steep passes and multiple peaks to reach the northern end of the park as opposed to following the Elwha River north.

The top of Constance Pass was wet, but beautiful. The cloud cover lifted along with us as we ascended and we could see a large inversion thousands of feet below us in the Dosewallips River Valley. We began our long descent – nearly 4,500 over 4.5 miles – towards the river below. It was slow moving as Denise continued to show more signs of fatigue from the challenging terrain. I was enjoying taking in the moody views, having seen very few overcast days the whole summer. Eventually we descended below the treeline and were met by fresh smelling pines, draped in hanging moss.

The rest of the descent down to the Dosewallips River Trail was straightforward, but slow. Denise’s pack and the previous day were weighing on her and our pace was a borderline crawl. I was worried about even making camp at the rate we were moving and finally convinced her to give me some of the weight she was carrying. At this point in the trail, I should be surprised at how capable the Pa’lante Pack was that had held up with no issues through everything from the New Mexican Desert to PNW bushwhacks, but I was surprised I was able to fit two bear cans, a pyramid tarp, and a two person tent along with all my other gear, food, and water.

After a brief break, which was mostly me stuffing as much into my 35 liter pack as I could, we set off on the Dosewallips River Trail. We moved along the trail much more efficiently with the weight spread better between us, but it still consumed much of the day. It was a smooth and cruisy trail, but by the time we reached our turnoff for Lost Pass, we had accumulated about 10 miles and 3k of vert.

We took a long break at the base of Lost Pass, watching a marmot bask in the sun and where I broke the news to Denise about what lay ahead. Camp was only 3.4 miles and 2,300 feet of vert away, but two extremely steep passes stood in our way. The first – Lost Pass – was about 3/4 of a mile and 1,200 feet directly above us. the second – Cameron Pass – was only slightly better at 1 mile and 1,100 feet of vert.

Eventually we moved on the from the marmot and started the grueling climb up to Lost Pass. I was surprised at just how rugged the trail was, more resembling a climbers trail than one that should be marked on official maps. The switchbacks that did exist barely reduced the grade of the trail as we slowly made our way up. It was a tough climb I was I had documented, but it was mostly in trees and I was enjoying the effort required to keep moving efficiently up the trail.

We finally broke out of the trees and finished the last stretch to the top of Lost Pass. We were greeted with a grand views of the surrounding mountains and the final pass of the day in front of us. We followed a small boot path, looking down into the valley below – one that likely hadn’t seen humans in years, if ever.

The climb up to Cameron Pass felt just as physically demanding as Lost Pass, but being above the treeline granted views of the lush green valleys and jagged peaks all around. I was struggling to not stop at take photos.

The Olympics were showing off for us and continued to do so as we crested Cameron Pass and got a view of Cameron Basin where we would be spending the night. It looked like something out of a movie with a faint trail snaking down the talus to a large bench with patches of alpine trees, presumably hiding perfect spots to camp.

We worked down the talus and quickly found a spot to settle in for the evening as the sun was starting to go down. I set up the tent quickly, throwing the fly out on a tree to dry. Denise started making dinner and I ran around getting water for the night while taking pictures of the clouds and mountains playing above us.

Day 48

I woke up refreshed the next morning, excited for the stretch ahead. We had made the decision to try and get a hitch from Obstruction Point to Port Angeles instead of hiking the road to Hurricane Ridge, which left us with only nine miles and one brutal climb before we’d be headed into town.

The morning and we were quiet as we got moving. The clouds had stuck around the peaks through the night and as we hiked down towards Cameron Creek we watched them shift from light gold to white as the sun moved quickly up into the sky. We snuck passed a tent, trying not to disturb our neighbors we had been unaware of the previous night.

The trail along Cameron Creek went by smoothly and soon we reached our turn for Grand Pass. it was going to be another rough climb with nearly 2,300 feet over 1.6 miles. At this point, I can barely remember the stretch from Cameron Creek to the alpine below Grand Pass. I’m not sure why I wasn’t documenting it as much as I had for previous stretches of the trail – perhaps it was being with someone else and feeling a bit awkward filming and taking photos. I remember the alpine basin because massive ravens were occasionally crossing over us, gliding on the swells coming up the valley. Marmots we could barely see were shrieking a warning to each other of the danger overhead.

We reached the top of Gand Pass, energized by the wildlife and views surrounding us. I’d lived in Seattle for nearly six years and barely spent any time on the peninsula, looking to the Cascades for most of my adventures. The Olympics were blowing me away. We weren’t even touching the more rugged parts of the park and as I passed through, I remember looking at peaks and tiny bootpaths winding along ridges and telling myself I’d be back to explore them.

We descended off Grand Pass towards the valley, snaking back and forth as trees grew larger and more plentiful. Before reaching the lush valley floor, made a turn off the alternate to take another trail that would keep us high and take us directly to Obstruction Point. I had gotten a few bars of service somewhere in the previous two days and looked up the route, which appeared to be the fairly straightforward route called Lillian Ridge. We climbed up to Low Pass and continued north up to an unnamed peak before starting a scree covered ascent to the summit of Moose Peak.

The Moose Peak was a massive, nearly flat summit that gave us 360 views. We got a great view of the trail out in front of us, which stretched all the way to the parking lot where we’d hopefully get a ride into town from. However, between us and the smooth trail lay a jagged ridgeline that appeared impossible to pass. After a few minutes of worry, we spotted a faint path that dropped below the ridge and then appeared to turn sharply and head right up into the rocky ridge. We agreed it made more sense to continue forward to check out what was in front of us before deciding whether to turn around and return to the “official” alternate.

The descent of Moose Peak turned out to be surprisingly sketchy. Kitty litter gravel on top of hard packed dirt and rock made each step feel like we could suddenly lose our footing. We took tiny baby steps down the worst of it and eventually reached the much nicer trail heading to the scramble up to the ridge.

We paused at the base of the scramble to allow a few hikers with large packs to make their way down and past us in a safer spot. The group of three was comprised of two men and one woman, all of whom where probably over 65 or 70. The third hiker down was likely in his 80s and was wearing a brilliant red button up shirt, baggy pants, and a wool newsboy cap. He stopped and I shared what I was doing, explaining how amazed I was about the Olympics, which prompted him to regale us with a few of his many tales of trips he had take over the years, including a tip on a bench to bivy on just below the summit of Mount Olympus. Each peak he mention, he pointed out with the ice axe in his hand, which looked like it was made in the 90s.

Eventually we parted ways and Denise and I made our way up the short scramble. It was a wise decision to check out the route closer up. It was a bit loose, but in general a straightforward and short scramble up to the easy trail that led us all the way to the parking lot.

After getting through the scramble, we made quick work of the smoothly graded trail to the parking lot at Obstruction Point. The lot was full, but there weren’t may people around. Thankfully I saw a family getting ready to head back to Hurricane Ridge. At this point in the trail, my fear of asking for help was completely squashed by the desire to be eating a pizza and I walked right up to them and asked for a ride back to Hurricane Ridge. Without much question they agreed and we hopped in their car and stared down the dusty road.

By the time we had reached Hurricane Ridge, the stories of hiking from Glacier were flowing and they offered to take us all the way into Port Angeles. We didn’t hesitate in accepting – waiting for the shuttle to take us down would simply delayed reaching town. Not only did they take us into town, they dropped us right at the hotel I had booked a few days before. We thanked them and waved goodbye as they drove off, feeling a little guilty for how bad we smelled, but happy to be in town.

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