Day 8 (July 19, 2014)

A late afternoon view from the head of Moose Lake

Rest day.  Most everyone slept in.  I was up by 8, which for me was still sleeping in.  I walked down the trail towards Grand Lake and spoke with the ranger for a minute.  Continuing on a bit to a small meadow, a humming bird who was also using the trail buzzed my head. I returned to find Tim sticking his head out of his tent.  Our good mornings got everyone else to waking up as well.

We ate a lazy breakfast, oatmeal for our cook group to which I added peanut butter.  Clouds were rolling in and the wind picked up as we ate.  Weather threatened but I enjoyed the cooler temperatures.

Shortly after breakfast Carter and Tim left for Deer Park to move the vans over to Obstruction Point.  We saw them off and relaxed around the camp, telling stories of life outside of the wilderness as we anticipated our return to Seattle.

Around noon Jake, Tess, Anthony and I packed up some light bags and headed up towards Grand Pass.  Our energy levels were up with the reduced weight and cool air.  We made good time up the valley.

As we passed our previous entry point from the Lillian Valley the wind began to rise.  We hiked over a small ridge into the valley’s head.  Here the landscape took on an alpine feel to which the low grey clouds contributed.

The sign announcing our arrival at Grand Pass

We crossed small snowfields and scree slopes turned muddy from run-off.  As we neared the pass we heard a wild whooping from the direction of Grand View Peak.  Sliding and running down the snow were three men.

They turned out to be from Lewis-McChord, recent West Point graduates assigned to a Stryker brigade.  One in particular was interested in mountain travel and was excited to learn self-arrest.  Jake and Anthony gave a demonstration.

We exchanged photo duties at the sign to the pass.  The three men left to climb the peak opposite Grand View.  Before long they were lost in the low clouds.

The four of us continued up the trail to Grand View.  By this point the gusts were so strong that Jake and I had to stow our hats.  Clouds rushed over and around the peaks while dew dotted our jackets.

At the summit we took the obligatory photos against the cloudscape.  Grand view gave us no view today, instead we were in a near white out.  We huddled off the side of the peak and ate Wassa and peanut butter.  Despite the weather we were in good spirits.

A more or less clear moment from the top of Grand View Peak

We started an easy descent back down the valley.  As we neared the meadow at the base of the ridge shared with the Lillian Valley we heard a marmot whistle.  Jake, Anthony and Tess stopped to journal while I continued on.

I returned to a sleeping camp and saw no reason not to join in.  It was a few hours later that I awoke to Tess returning.  Jake and Anthony had gone round the head of Moose Lake to explore.

Yoko and Serena had started dinner by this point.  We cooked off the rest of our pasta, throwing in whatever sauces were left.  As we cooked the ranger returned, telling us she had seen the vans at Obstruction Point.  The amount of walking she does amazed me.  Just the previous day we had seen her returning from Lillian Lake as we picked our way up to the high route out of the valley.  We ate and waited.

Before too long and before dark Tim and Carter returned.  They brought news of a flat tire and, more importantly, fresh fruit and bacon.  Tim dutifully ate the large portion of pasta we had left him despite his having eaten in Port Angelas as well.
_________________________________________________________
ANOTHER PERSPECTIVE ON THE DAY, FROM TIM:
Matthew asked me to share some thoughts on the day here, from me and Carter, as we split from the group for the day.

Carter and I got going shortly after breakfast to embark on a 10+ mile hike down into the Badger Valley (a loss of at least 1000 feet), and then up to Deer Ridge (a gain of about 3000 feet), where we would work our way back to Deer Park to pick up the vans. We made good time with light packs, but all the way, we could see the weather deteriorating. Looking back from Deer Ridge we could see dark clouds and mist, with rain showers often streaming downwards, as the wind blew hard across the range. The Olympics were being battered by an unusually strong summer storm. On Deer Ridge, we were in the rain shadow, of the Olympics, and although we felt some sprinkles of rain, it was nothing compared to what was happening on the west side of the park. I learned later that a friend of mine was weathered off of Mt. Olympus with his tent literally torn to shreds (unheard of for a summer storm in the Olympics). Granted he was at the end of a 20 day trek whose route crossed Olympus in the last few days so he didn't have much choice but to be where he was, and keep pressing onwards. Meanwhile, we could see the clouds and mist dropping into the Grand Valley. Grand Peak completely disappeared from our view several times. We could only imagine what our group was experiencing back at camp (or on Grand Peak as Matthew recounts here). For Carter and me, however, our trek took us further and further into the rain shadow of the Olympics. We could see a "blue hole" over Sequim, and even as the wind and clouds threatened us from behind, we were constantly moving into drier and drier conditions. We passed an amazing display of wildflowers on the ridge (some of which were endemic to the Olympics), and viewed many horned larks skulking around amongst the low vegetation, staying out of the wind. As we approached the final drop before the climb up to Deer Park, we looked down and saw a rainbow, and below the rainbow, a golden eagle soared on up-turned wings, passing back and forth above a sub-alpine meadow looking for marmots.

Looking out towards the "blue hole" above Sequim, shortly after seeing the rainbow and Golden Eagle soaring below us.

Looking back towards the ominous clouds from the same same position. Grand Peak and Mathew are somewhere out there in the darkest patch of cloud.

Later that evening the clouds lifted and coastal fog began creeping up the valleys.

This was the first time I had hiked this route, and I was astounded by the large stands of lodgepole pine we passed through on the way up to Deer Park. It was completely dry (despite the rain elsewhere in the park) and the pine smell was so strong it reminded me of forests on the east slope of the Cascades. The van pickup was uneventful and we drove down through sunny skies and into a blanket of fog that hung low over the Strait of Juan de Fuca. We spent as little time in town as possible, stopping only to pick up some food treats, before heading back to the Obstruction Point via a long windy dirt road, and beginning the evening trek back into the wilderness. I am continually thankful that Obstruction Point was indeed an obstruction to the further building of the road. The stretch from Obstruction Point to Deer Park is one of the most special hikes in the park, and it is mind-boggling to think that it very nearly became a road. OK, back to Matthew....

_________________________________________

Dark fell as we gathered for Anthony’s discussion.  He talked about the eco-feminism movement, a hot-button topic that generated lots of opinions.  By this point in the trip I think we knew each other well enough to push each other’s world views a bit while not offending or attacking one another.  It was a measure of the strength of both our shared experience and  character that folks who had been strangers nine days ago were able to open up so effortlessly with their opinions without fear.

Finally, Tim asked us to share our reflections on the past nine days.  We went in a circle, each giving our personal account of how our time in the park gave us perspective on ourselves and our place in the wilderness.  It was clear the trip made a profound and lasting mark on each of us.  I knew for myself that the more intellectual aspects of the trip would manifest upon further reflection at home.  Instead I was torn between my love of adventure and the thought of my daughter waiting for me back in Seattle.  I could feel the rift between my past and future selves.  For me the trip was a chance to bridge these two aspects and dream about a future in which I can share similar experiences with her as she grows.

The stars struck me that night more than any other.  As we talked I watched them appear by ones and twos in the darkening sky.  I followed satellites across lines perpendicular to the Milky Way.  I turned to catch falling stars in the corners of the valley sky.  As the group broke I kept my eyes turned up for a few minutes more, sending them my silent farewell before climbing into my tent for the final night.