On the Big Quilcene Trail to Marmot Pass and Buckhorn Lake

June 26-28, 2009

This was our first hike since moving to Seattle, so expectation were high. Oh, the hours spent pouring over our "100 Classic Hikes in Washington," talking to people in gear shops, and stocking up on trail maps. Oh, the anticipation as we set up a staging ground of packs, sleeping pads and cookware in the basement. And finally, the very long drive up a long, bumpy road as the air outside got colder and colder. Luckily, Marmot Pass did not disappoint.

One thing we quickly learned as we were selecting our hike is that because of the high elevation of the mountains here and the resulting snow, the hiking season here is a lot shorter. The Guidebooks here give general guidelines for when the trails are clear enough to hike, and you can call ranger stations to get more accurate reports. As it was, we did this hike at the end of June, as still encountered snow covering parts of the path. So, when summer hits, it's like this small window of time to hit all of the incredible hike sin the big mountains.

The other thing we learned on the trip is that it is cold in there mountains -- even at the end of June. This is a complete departure from hiking the smaller mountain around DC, where it gets so hot and humid in the summer that many people don't even backpack during the hottest summer months. Though we knew it would be cool in the mountains and had a general idea of the temperatures, we were having a hard time conceptualizing just how cold it would be. Our first real indication was when the ranger told us that it was getting "down in the 40s up there."
Our second indication of just how cold it would be was when we got to the trailhead and stepped out of the car. We could sort of see our breath. It was just hard to believe that this was summer.

The trail starts out in intensely green forest. We were immediately surrounded by towering conifers, mossy rocks, spongy soil, and a pine needle-covered trail. Lush is the word that comes to mind. It had that primordial feel to it -- as if a dinosaur could have crossed our path and it wouldn't have seemed that out of place.

The trail went up and up, right from the start. It was never super dramatically steep, but we were definitely gaining elevation and the occasional flat stretches never lasted long.



At two and a half miles and 3600 feet we reached Shelter Rock Camp. After this, the pine needle trail turns to rocks, and you;re suddenly in meadows of wildflowers. Except that the meadows are not flat -- they're on the sides of mountains. I coined the term "vertical meadows." Purple, orange, and yellow flowers everywhere. I had a new appreciation for the old poets who waxed on the serene beauty of meadows.

Along the way, we got an impressive peek at the neighboring mountains, with their tops enveloped in clouds.

After two more miles and another 1800 feet elevation gain (the guidebook referred to this as "Poop -Out Drag"), we came to Camp Mystery. The trail flattens out, and suddenly you are surrounded by campsites all around a creek. We had heard there wasn't much water higher up, so we decided to bed down there for the night. We decided to take a peek at what was across the creek and discovered a secluded campsite on just the other side of the creek.

This is where I must make a confession. We had seen signs that said no campfires were allowed at this elevation. But campfires are sort of an integral part of our camp evenings, and after we made dinner, we were sort of at a loss as to what to do with ourselves. And did I mention it was cold. We were, perhaps, not quite as acclimated or outfitted to the weather as we should have been. Then Michael came back from a scouting trip to report that he had seen others making fires. Well, maybe fires were allowed? I think we may have sort of talked ourselves into this. Anyway, you see where this is going -- we made a fire and had happily been warming ourselves beside its warm goodness when we got a visit from the Good Samaratin Club. They were very nice, and I actually appreciate that they were protecting the trees, which are very old. (As a side note, they seemed quite impressed that were were able to make a fire from such damp wood.) So, we put the fire out and I'm happy to report we have not made one at high elevation since.

The next day was sunny and clear, and we decided to do a hike from our base camp to Buckhorn Lake. As we left Camp Mystery, the trail wound its way through more woods, and then were were suddenly in this huge basin of grassy fields. There were trees on either side, and a cliff straight ahead of us. Not much further past this, we came to Marmot Pass.



Suddenly there seemed to be people everywhere. A woman was asking people if we had seen her husband, and another couple asked us if we had been here before as they were trying to decide where to go. There's a crazy signpost at the Pass, and several trails leading in various directions. After we'd talked to all these people we finally looked up and saw the snow-capped Olympics straight in front of us. It was a breathtaking view. (I'm using up all my superlatives on this hike.)

We headed right on the Tubal Cain (#840) towards Buckhorn Lake. We were literally walking on a path cut into the side of a mountain. At one point there was snow covering the trail so we had to carefully inch our way over the snow to get back on the path. Then we came out on the top of a mountain. It was rocky and barren, like a moonscape.

We walked for a while over these trails, which was pretty surreal, because we were walking over a bare mountain, with clear views of the mountains all around us. We were of the mountains. I also think this is when I got a sunburn -- after the terrain the day before I wasn't expecting to be quite so exposed. We had a great lunch on the mountaintop, with views in every direction. At some point, we got a little lost. Well, not lost, but we thought we were lost. We lost the rocky path in the rocky terrain. We met a couple of friendly hikers, figured out we were indeed on the right path, and continued on our way.

The path then took us down the backside of the mountain, through more beautiful mountains, and then back into woods as we headed down into the valley. Buckhorn Lake was green and transparent. I'm still captivated by these pristine alpine lakes -- I love the idea that no boat or jet ski has ever touched them. I always spend a long time looking down into these lakes, at all the huge old logs and rocks lying on the bottom. I'm fascinated that I can see everything in the lake, as if the lake is giving up all her secrets.



We had a nice hike back to camp, during which I was asked by my partner not to take so many pictures. I took a lot of pictures on this inaugural backpacking trip. And different pictures of the same thing -- I was in awe of the changing lighting, clouds, and landscape. I was so excited that I was taking pictures of pine needles!

I really love hiking the eastern side of the Olympic Peninsula -- it's not that far from Seattle, yet it feels like a world away. And the hikes in this part of the Olympic Mountains are pretty spectacular. Depending on how far north or south the hike is, you can also sometimes cut through the Kitsap Peninsula to save ferry fare without adding too much time to the trip.



On the drive back along the Hood Canal, I got a surprise treat: fresh pan fried oysters. On the drive in we had seen groups of people down along the shore of the Hood Canal at low tide. They looked like they were digging for something, so we were trying to figure out what they were doing. Clamming? It turns out that there are oysters year round in the Hood Canal. You can actually go to several parks in the are and "pick" your own. I grew up on smoked oysters and have had raw oysters several times, but these fresh pan fried Hood Canal oysters from a roadside family restaurant were the most delicious oysters I've ever had. Having them after a long hike made them even better.

Directions
From the town of Quilcene, go south on US 101 1.5 miles, and turn right (west) onto Penny Creek Road. At 1.5 miles bear left on Big Quilcene River Road, which becomes FR 27. At about 10 miles, go left on FR 2750, and continue 4.75 miles to the trailhead at 2500 feet elevation.