Paul in the Parks

June 5-6, 2022 —

My visit to Washington in 2022 started off with adventure and disappointment. My good friend Eli and I attempted to summit Mount Rainier, but unseasonably bad weather thwarted our endeavor. Though we didn’t accomplish our objective, we still had a fun and memorable couple days on the mountain. While we recovered from our trip on the afternoon of June 4th, we contemplated what to do next. I had taken two days of PTO to spend this 4-day weekend in Washington. So, I resolved to do something worthwhile with those two days.

After carefully studying the forecast for several areas in the state, I excitedly suggested to Eli that we go to Olympic National Park. I had been once in 2019 with Maria, but rainy weather and excessive fog had burdened our brief visit.

Paul stands among fog at Mount Storm King's summit with Lake Crescent behind him in Olympic National Park — Me atop a rainy Mount Storm King (with Maria behind the camera) in October 2019

The hourly forecast suggested that we had a small window to find Olympic in good weather. In contrast, forecasts guaranteed that most of the rest of the state would see significant rain. So, I convinced Eli that we should visit the park. He agreed.

Plan your trip to Olympic National Park

Day 1: To the Pacific!

Eli and I awoke early on the morning of June 5th. We packed his car with hiking and camping supplies, ate a quick breakfast, and took off for Olympic National Park.

The Ferry

Olympic National Park sits on its namesake peninsula in the westernmost part of Washington. Despite being visible from Seattle – like other nearby national parks Mount Rainier and North Cascades – it takes several hours to reach. From the city, you can either drive south to avoid Puget Sound or cross the Sound via a paid ferry trip. Eli and I opted to take the ferry: not only was it quicker, but riding the ferry is a fun experience in and of itself.

We boarded the ferry at Edmonds around 10:30 AM. Once Eli parked his car, we began wandering around the top deck. After the remaining cars boarded, the ferry set sail to the Olympic Peninsula. During this time, the sun popped out and shone rays of hope on the start of our visit to the park. We caught distant views of the Olympic Mountains peaking through clouds, while a strong wind attempted to blow our clothes off. We could see distant coastal towns and Seattle itself peaking over the hills.

Paul holds his hat as wind batters him atop a ferry crossing Puget Sound — The Olympic Mountains barely visible from Puget Sound

Eli and Paul take a selfie on a ferry crossing Puget Sound — The Olympic Mountains barely visible from Puget Sound

20 minutes later, the ferry arrived in Kingston. Eli and I returned to the car and continued our drive to the park. The sun disappeared behind clouds once more.

Coast to Coast

From Puget Sound at Kingston, we began a westward drive of nearly three hours to reach an even larger body of water: the Pacific Ocean. I’d seen dozens of pictures showcasing Olympic National Park’s pristine Pacific coastline. For years, I’d dreamed of seeing the crashing waves and towering rock spires that defined the unique ecosystem. To make that dream a reality, we’d decided on Rialto Beach as our first stop in the park. Pacific Ocean, here we come!

After almost two hours of traversing US 101 through small towns and rural forests, we reached Lake Crescent. The picturesque blue lake sits at the very northern end of Olympic. It sits alongside the road, making it a popular stop for travelers passing through the area. It was also the site of Maria’s and my 2019 adventure in the park: Mount Storm King. Eli and I had reserved a campsite on the lake and intended to return later in the day to hike Pyramid Peak, but we still made a brief stop at the lake to snap a couple of photos.

Clouds hang low over Lake Crescent at Olympic National Park — Lake Crescent from US 101

We drove past Lake Crescent and exited the park’s boundary. From there, it took 30 minutes to reach Forks: a small town famous as the setting of the Twilight saga. Shortly after, we re-entered the National Park after crossing the border of its western unit, which sits separate from the bulk of the park and is responsible for protecting the Pacific coastline.

At about 1:30 PM, Eli parked the car at a small but busy parking lot. A hill blocked our view of the ocean, but I could see distant rock spires jutting out over top. When we stepped out of the car, I immediately heard waves crashing nearby. We had made it…

Rialto Beach

Eli and I walked through a patch of trees to find the Pacific Ocean – in all her might and glory – churning in front of us. Waves crashed onto the rocky shore as massive rock spires towered majestically around us. Though clouds obscured the sun, the coastline was still every bit as beautiful as I’d hoped. I’d seen the Pacific Ocean before in California, but seeing it in such a wild, untouched setting blew me away.

The Pacific Ocean batters the shore covered in pine forests at the western edge of Olympic National Park — Photos taken on Rialto Beach

Tall rock spires rise hundreds of feet above the Pacific Ocean along a beach — Photos taken on Rialto Beach

We began walking along Rialto Beach, determined to reach a cluster of rock spires to the north. As we stepped, the loose pebbles that comprised the beach shifted and moved. The uneven and unstable terrain made it difficult to walk quickly, but it offered some fascinating real-time examples of the way the water shaped the landscape.

A shaky time lapse I took of water eroding away part of the beach as it flowed out to the Pacific

We walked 1.5 miles on the beach – past the hundred-foot rock towers – before reaching Hole-in-the-Wall, an aptly named rock feature on the north end of the beach. At low tides, it’s possible to scramble in and around the large hole. Naturally, two rock climbers would refuse to pass up such an opportunity. Eli and I precariously navigated the wet rock while avoiding the splash of large ocean waves. Eventually, we made it to the other side, where we found sea urchins in small tidepools and enjoyed the scenery.

A mossy and rocky landscape is viewed from Hole-in-the-Wall with the Pacific Ocean behind it — The view from Hole-in-the-Wall, looking north

The Pacific Ocean appears through Hole-in-the-Wall at Rialto Beach — Hole-in-the-Wall, looking south

A cairn built with smooth stones sits on Rialto Beach with the Pacific Ocean behind it — Hole-in-the-Wall, looking south

Forks in Forks

After getting our fill of the scenic coastline, we began our return to the car. As we trudged south along the beach, the ocean filled my senses. The smell of fish, the sounds of the crashing waves, the feel of the pebbles beneath my feet and water occasionally lapping over my boots, the sights of the nearby forests and cliff lines, and the taste of salt in the air collectively kept me entertained. I could have spent hours there just watching the water and waiting for the sunset. But, other destinations in Olympic called us away from Rialto Beach.

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We reached the car around 3:30 and headed to nearby Forks. There, we stopped at a local barbecue restaurant and chowed down on some huge chicken thighs. Eli ate his chicken with his hands whilst I meticulously picked away at the meat with a fork. His method was far more efficient.

The Shores of Lake Crescent

From Forks, Eli and I drove east back to Lake Crescent. There, we found our campsite at Fairholme Campground, which sat merely a few hundred feet from the lakeshore. Once we erected our tent, we walked down to the shoreline. There, we observed crystal-clear blue water, a trait enabled by a stark lack of nitrogen in the water. The lack of nitrogen prevents algal blooms, resulting in the pristine waters that the lake is known for.

A log rises up onto the shore of Lake Crescent as clouds hang low overhead — Lake Crescent from the shore

A mossy forest rises above the floor of Olympic National Park — Lake Crescent from the shore

After enjoying the lakeshore, we hopped in the car and drove a few short minutes to the site of our evening activity: Pyramid Peak. With nearly 2,500 feet of elevation gain, the 7-mile hike was sure to pucker us out in time for bed. But, without the 50+ pounds of gear on our backs that we hauled two days earlier up Mount Rainier, the trudge up the mountain sounded like a cakewalk in comparison.

Rising Towards the Fog

We began the hike around 5:45 PM. Since leaving Rialto Beach a few hours earlier, we’d found nothing but clouds and fog. After several days of nasty weather, I was pining for some sun. Plus, I wanted to get a clear view of Lake Crescent from above, something that would stand in stark contrast to my view of the lake from Mount Storm King three years earlier.

The cloud cover had little effect on the scenery as we walked through the forest. Once we reached a clearing, however, we saw that the clouds we had spotted at higher elevations had still not cleared. Though the hourly forecast was promising a respite from the cloud cover in time for sunset, I saw no signs of that promise. From what I could tell, we were simply hiking up into a cloud. This suggested that we would see hardly anything from Pyramid Peak. That would be quite the bummer to end the day…

Clouds hang low over the deep blue waters of Lake Crescent - viewed from a hill - as mountains behind the lake are obscured — Lake Crescent from the Pyramid Peak trail, with low-hanging clouds above it

Despite my concerns, I remained optimistic as Eli and I hiked towards the peak. Our conversations provided a worthy distraction from the gloom overhead. Eli even let me ramble about the Marvel Cinematic Universe for at least 20 minutes… bless his soul. We also started keeping count of the banana slugs we found on the trail, as there were many.

Eli stands on a trail cutting through a steep hill washed out by a landslide — Eli on a loose section of the trail crossing a landslide area

Two banana slugs slowly cross the muddy ground — Eli on a loose section of the trail crossing a landslide area

Pyramid Peak

As we gained elevation, we found that the weather was becoming undecisive. The low-hanging clouds remained, but the sun managed to break through those clouds on several occasions. Once we reached the ridgeline leading to the peak, we even caught some glimpses of Canada and the Strait of Juan de Fuca to the north. Maybe, just maybe, there was hope for the view atop Pyramid Peak.

The evening sky peaks through a dense pine forest near the top of a mountain — The sky was much clearer looking to the northwest. Canada is visible in the far distance through the trees

We reached the peak just before 7:30 PM to find – to my disappointment – nothing. The cloud cover remained, and we could barely see 50 feet in any direction. While I could imagine distant views of Lake Crescent, the Olympic Mountains, and Canada, all we could see were thick clouds.

A pine tree and an abandoned building sit at the top of Pyramid Peak as fog obscures the view — The view from Pyramid Peak when we first reached the summit

However, after only a few minutes, my hope for a scenic conclusion to the day returned. The fog that clung to the mountain peak started to wane as a stiff wind picked up. Lake Crescent began to peak through the gloom. I convinced Eli that we should wait at the peak. If we were patient, maybe the clouds would clear…

Here Comes the Sun!

During the next 30 minutes, the fog gradually cleared up around us. Lake Crescent’s vibrant blue waters revealed themselves brilliantly as the sun began shining through the clouds and blue skies reigned overhead. My mood – defined by frustration when we first reached the peak – quickly turned ecstatic as the view improved.

Lake Crescent shortly after we arrived versus 30 minutes later when the fog cleared

It was a beautiful moment.

Paul poses for a photo with the deep-blue Lake Crescent as clouds begin to recede — This is what can happen if you have just a little bit of patience

From our vantage point, we could see a plethora of mountains – both near and far – within Olympic National Park and in nearby Canada. Clouds to the east prevented us from seeing the Olympics themselves, but I didn’t care. My eyes and heart were satisfied. A rainbow even appeared after a while, serving as a divine cherry-on-top for the evening.

A rainbow rises above the foggy Lake Crescent as the setting sun bathes Olympic National Park in golden light — Looking northeast from Pyramid Peak, with a rainbow in view

Once 8 PM rolled around, we became conscious of the time and our need for an early bedtime. We had scheduled a visit to Hurricane Ridge at sunrise the next day, so we didn’t have much time to dilly dally. Eli and I began our return hike around 8:15, making a swift return back down the trail. We covered 3.5 miles in about an hour, reaching the car around 9:15. After reaching the car, we returned to our campsite, brushed our teeth, and laid down in our tent to get a few hours of sleep…

Lake Crescent meets mountains covered in pine forests — Photos taken on the Pyramid Peak Trail during our return to the car

Eli stands on a trail as he looks towards the camera with a headlamp — Photos taken on the Pyramid Peak Trail during our return to the car

Day 2: Hurricane Ridge

At 4:30 AM, my alarm awoke us abruptly. It had been a rough night of sleep, thanks in large part to the campground’s close proximity to US 101. Every few minutes throughout the night, a vehicle would drive by and create loud roars that echoed through the valley. Though sleep-deprived, my excitement to see Hurricane Ridge motivated me to wake up. With sunrise in only 45 minutes, we had to get moving quickly.

Eli and I packed our camping gear and tent in short order. We were on the road before 5 AM. As the forecast had suggested, the sky remained relatively clear as we made our way to Hurricane Ridge Road. The low-hanging clouds and fog that had troubled us the previous day were gone. We caught glimpses of dawn through the mountains as we made our way east on US 101. 80’s rock and pop played through the speakers as we drove to one of Olympic National Park’s finest viewpoint.

As the sun rose, Eli and I began making our way up Hurricane Ridge Road. The road rose steeply and winded through a dense forest, where we spotted several deer. At 5:45, we reached an overlook facing north. We parked the car and took a few photos of the sights below us, which included Port Angeles, the Strait of Juan de Fuca, and Canada.

Clouds, the rising sun, distant forests, and the city of Port Angeles are viewed from a viewpoint in Olympic National Park — The view from a pull-off on Hurricane Ridge Road. Port Angeles, the Strait of Juan de Fuca, and Canada are all visible in the photo

The Olympic Mountains

Once we returned to the car, we immediately passed through a series of tunnels on the road. After passing through the final tunnel, we caught our first glimpse of the Olympic Mountains. I pulled off to the side of the road and hopped out to take a few photos. While a few low-hanging clouds clung to the peaks, the mountains were almost entirely visible. If anything, the clouds made the view even better due to the golden morning light reflecting off of them.

Golden clouds partially obscure the snow-covered Olympic Mountains with pine forests in the foreground — Our first view of the Olympic Mountains from the road

The views of the mountains improved as we gained elevation. A few minutes later, we rounded a hill and found our first view of the entire mountain range: the view Hurricane Ridge is famous for. My jaw dropped. To my delight, they were completely visible despite a layer of clouds. The clouds worked with the rising sun to create some fantastic colors, colors that photos could never do justice.

A Hike with a View

We drove through the large, empty parking lot of the Hurricane Ridge Visitor Center and continued to the trailhead for Hurricane Hill. There, we found only one other car belonging to a hiker that had started even earlier than us. For the most part, however, we had the usually-crowded ridge entirely to ourselves.

Eli and I began hiking at 6:15 AM. The trail to the top of Hurricane Hill was paved – much to my surprise – and still partially covered in snow and ice. As a result, parts of the trail were extremely slippery. Thankfully, this didn’t cause any issues for us, but we had a few close calls during the hike.

The Olympic Mountains rise above a lush green pine forests as clouds hang low overhead, viewed from Hurricane Ridge — The Olympic Mountains viewed from Hurricane Ridge

As we ascended the trail, I glanced frequently to the south. The view of the Olympic Mountains just got better and better the more I looked at it. I noticed glaciers, distant waterfalls and streams, and deep valleys covered in forests. The scale and vastness of the view was impressive, and it made for an engaging distraction as we climbed the trail. Though Hurricane Ridge often experiences intense winds (a trait for which it is named), the morning was perfectly calm. It allowed me to listen to the sounds of nature around us without obstruction.

A video I took while we climbed to the top of Hurricane Hill

Hurricane Hill

30 minutes and 1.5 miles later, we reached the top of Hurricane Hill. From the summit, we had a clear view of the Olympic Mountains. Clouds obscured Mount Olympus – the tallest peak in the range – but we were able to clearly see every other major mountain in the vicinity, including distant peaks 20 miles to the south. The summit also provided an expansive view of Port Angeles, the ocean, and other landmarks to the north.

The cloud cover had steadily increased on our way up, obscuring the sun. However, slivers of golden light still penetrated through the gloom, creating a dreamlike setting. The cold morning air felt refreshing after the steep hike to the peak. Between the views, the sounds of rushing waterfalls, a marmot resting nearby on a rock, and the clean, cool air, I was at peace. Aside from one other hiker that we briefly talked to, we found no one else. Eli and I wandered around the top of Hurricane Hill in relative silence, taking photos when the opportunities arose.

Paul poses for a photo with the vibrant colors of the Olympic Mountains and a snow-covered pine forest — A genuine smile to celebrate a beautiful start to the week

A marmot perches atop a rock in front of the Olympic Mountains — A marmot resting on a rock near Hurricane Hill’s summit

Distant mountains rise up towards an opening in the clouds — A marmot resting on a rock near Hurricane Hill’s summit

Moments like this are what national parks are all about.

Back to Civilization

At 7:15 AM, Eli and I began our return to the car. Our conversations picked up once more on the way down. As we talked, we passed other hikers while continuing to enjoy the view and dodging black ice on the trail. When we reached the car, I didn’t want to get in. I desperately wanted to stay in Olympic National Park for longer. I wanted to explore the park’s backcountry, see the Hoh Rainforest, watch a sunset on the beach, and do plenty other things. However, my evening flight beckoned us back to Seattle.

Though the time we’d spent on the Olympic Peninsula went by far too quickly, it had been an exciting and rewarding 24 hours.

I drove us back to Seattle as exhaustion knocked Eli into a deep sleep. Glimpses of the mountains coupled with Frank Ocean playing through the car speakers kept me awake. As the park grew smaller in the rear-view mirrors, I smiled. I knew I wasn’t saying “goodbye” to Olympic… I’d be back before long. In the scale of the millions of years it took for the Olympic Mountains and the ecosystems within to form, the time it would take for me to return would be but a heartbeat to the forces of nature.

Cars sit in the middle of a ferry as it crosses Puget Sound below a blue sky — The Edmonds-Kingston ferry as it brought us back to Seattle

In Conclusion…

You may think 24 hours spread across 2 days would be plenty of time to see all there is to see in a national park. For some of the parks, that may be true. In Olympic, however, I knew it would require plenty more days – even weeks – for me to be fully satisfied. Olympic National Park is one of the finest examples of untouched wilderness in this country. The park is massive and offers plenty to see and do, begging visitors to return again and again to explore its many facets.

If you’re visiting Washington for the first time and don’t know which of its three national parks to visit first, consider prioritizing Olympic. While none of its mountains compare to the sheer scale of Mount Rainier or the rockiness of North Cascades, the combination of forests, mountain peaks, Pacific coastline, lakes, and the Hoh Rainforest make it an unforgettable experience. Consider checking the forecast and the park’s webcams before you go, to ensure you find the park in optimal weather conditions.

As for me, I hope to come back to Washington again before long. Whether it be another trip with Eli, a second visit with Maria, or something else, I pray that it will be a short time before I step foot in the state and its beautiful national parks again.

Until next time, Olympic National Park. Stay big and stay beautiful…

— Paul

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