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This guidebook does not feature prepackaged hikes that require little input from hikers who are planning an outing. Hiking guides can prescribe too much as well as not enough when recommending itineraries involving various combinations of trails. As my good friend William E. Hoke succinctly expressed, “The beauty of hiking and climbing is discovery, pure and simple,” and part of the thrill of discovery stems from having made one’s own plans and choices.

The book does, however, describe all the trails in the Olympic Mountains (or at any rate all that the writer is aware of), including the ones that are not maintained. Thus, Olympic Mountains Trail Guide is, so to speak, a dictionary or encyclopedia, offering assistance when it is needed but remaining silent when it is not.

The text describes 206 trails in the Olympic Mountains that have a total length of almost 1000 miles. While there are fewer trails in the Windward Olympics, they tend to be somewhat longer than those in the leeward mountains.

About 140 miles, or 15 percent of the total trail mileage, represent either unmaintained way trails or abandoned trails, indicating that the situation with respect to maintenance is not as bad as one might suspect. The mileage of unmaintained trails is almost evenly divided between the leeward and the windward sides, although one would have suspected that most of the abandoned trails and unmaintained way trails would be on the wet west side of the mountains.

The trails are described beginning at Lake Crescent and proceeding clockwise around the more or less circular uplift of peaks and ridges. The mountains are divided into sixteen major watersheds, eight of them in the Leeward Olympics, also eight in the Windward Olympics. The trails in the Leeward Olympics—the slopes facing north and east—are described first because they are closer to the centers of population and being in rain shadow in general have the best weather. The Windward Olympics—the slopes oriented to the south and west—demand that one drive considerably farther to reach the trailheads, and one has to gamble on the weather because this district, although having milder temperatures, has much greater precipitation. The trails are grouped into chapters according to the watersheds in which each trail is found, either in whole, or in major extent. For convenience in identifying routes on the maps in this book, each trail has been given a specific number according to its listing in the Table of Contents, and the numbers have been placed on their relevant watershed or insert maps.

The eight watersheds which comprise the Leeward Olympics are the Lyre, Elwha, North Slope, Dungeness-Graywolf, Quilcene, Dosewallips, Duckabush, and Hamma Hamma. The eight watersheds of the Windward Olympics are the North Fork Skokomish, South Flank, East Fork Quinault, North Fork Quinault, Queets, Hoh, Bogachiel-Calawah, and Sol Duc.

Each chapter begins with a general description of the watershed, followed by a detailed description of the roads that provide access to the trails in that area.

At the beginning of each individual trail description a capsular listing of information gives the hiker a quick overview of the essay that follows. If the trail is an abandoned route or an unmaintained way trail, this fact is noted. Anyone attempting to follow these abandoned, unmaintained pathways should be a self-reliant person well-versed in cross-country travel, not a neophyte in the art of hiking. Next, the trail’s length is stated both in miles and kilometers, followed by the name of the principal access road to the trailhead or, if the starting point is another trail, the name of that trail. For a detailed description of the access road(s) readers should refer back to the “Roads” section at the beginning of the chapter. Also provided is the name or names of the Custom Correct maps and Green Trails maps that include the territory traversed by the trail. Hard copies of all Green Trails maps are available from Mountaineers Books (see Appendix 2). Lastly, the name of the entity responsible for the trail, whether Olympic National Park, Olympic National Forest, or another body, is given. Contact information for these entities is provided in Appendix 2.

Within the trail descriptions accumulated mileage, as well as the elevation at pertinent points, is given parenthetically. As an aid to trip planning, the names of connecting trails that have their own entry elsewhere in the book appear in boldface type.

At this point the reader may note that figures for elevation gain and loss are not given. One cannot, of course, determine gain or loss by simply subtracting the starting altitude from the ending one, because gains and losses (both large and small) occur along the way. The fact that such trails are uneven means that any given path is characterized by numerous little rises and falls, which cannot be readily calculated and taken into account when figuring the route’s net gain or loss. One would have to know the precise elevation at every point where the trail starts to ascend or descend.

Hikers soon come to realize that some trails are almost continuously uphill, while others are primarily level or even predominately downhill. The average trail is a mixture of ups and downs and level stretches, and most trails gain or lose elevation gradually. Accordingly, no attempt has been made to label trails as having specific elevation gains or losses. The best way to deal with this subject when a hiker is planning a trip is to read the trail description and note the elevation figures given for various points along the way. This will give an overall impression of the difficulty of the route, without considering all the incomputable little ups and downs that characterize almost every trail.

The trails described in this book have not been rated as to their degree of difficulty because such characterization is neither practical nor fair. What is easy for one hiker may well be average for others. Such judgment calls are highly subjective matters and depend largely upon personal opinion. It almost goes without saying that what is easy for most people (including neophytes) might be moderately strenuous for someone with physical problems. One’s stamina, age, and general state of health play large roles in determining how we personally rate the degree of difficulty.

Another factor that can and often does affect a hike’s degree of difficulty is the weather at the time. A trail rated average in benign weather may easily be reclassified as strenuous when one hikes the route during inclement weather, or severe if the hike is undertaken during a violent storm.

Not only is the weather a critical factor in determining how difficult one should consider a trail to be but so is the season of the year. Because it is obvious, it hardly seems necessary to mention that an ascent of Mount Olympus in midwinter would be rated by almost anyone cognizant of the conditions in the field as being more difficult than a summer climb. The same criterion is true for the trails. A hike to Lake Constance is tough enough for most people in the summer, let alone attempting the route during the winter months.

A WORD ABOUT NAMES

The names of geographic features change over the course of time for various and sundry reasons, but I am convinced that many of them are due to cartographers’ mistakes and the subsequent perpetuation of, or attempts to correct, such errors. The mapmakers frequently misspell names; or, worse yet, transpose names to other locations. For example, the name of a creek may be shifted onto an adjacent stream; that of a peak or lake placed on a nearby, usually unnamed, feature. Because new maps gradually replace old ones, errors due to carelessness become fixed or accepted as time goes by, with the result that eventually few people realize that a name or its location has been changed. Numerous examples of cartographers’ errors—or, more charitably, variations in designation—can be cited. Heart Lake, near the headwaters of the Duckabush, has been changed to Hart Lake on most maps, and another Heart Lake, on the High Divide, may experience the same fate. Crazy Creek has been moved to the next upstream tributary of the Duckabush. Blizzard Pass on Mount Olympus was incorrectly designated on the 15-minute USGS quadrangle for years, but it is correctly placed in the new 7.5-minute quadrangle. One of the most interesting errors appeared on an early edition of the USGS quadrangle titled Hurricane Hill. The quadrangle showed a trail, labeled Upper Lillian War Trail, climbing from the Elwha Trail to Lost Cabin Mountain. I was not aware of any trail ascending from the Elwha to this peak, and a later version of the map shows the trail following the Lillian River and not going to Lost Cabin Mountain (although both maps indicated the trail started at the same spot on the Elwha Trail). The name had been changed later, on a revised map, to Lillian River Trail. I had been puzzled by the designation of War Trail, thinking perhaps the path had some relationship to a World War II aircraft spotting station, when the truth suddenly dawned upon me—that somewhere along the line a cartographer had mistaken the word way for war. The reference was to a way trail, not a warpath.

In the trail descriptions that follow, I have attempted to be as accurate as possible with regard to place names, and at times have cited the historical basis for using a certain name.

Still another element which can affect the difficulty rating of trails: Is the scheduled hike of a certain trail going to be a day hike or an overnight one? The inference is clear. If it is to be a day hike, where the participants carry only lightweight daypacks, the rating would more likely be in the easy or average class, as opposed to the rating for the same trail if the trip is to be an overnight one with the participants carrying backpacks loaded with overnight gear—including cooking equipment, tent or tarp, and sleeping bags. Obviously, the overnight trip would receive a greater degree of difficulty rating than will the day hike.

When and where to go? This question is often asked, and it is a good one, not to be taken lightly. The simplest, most direct answer is: Go when you feel like going, go where you want to go—provided, that is, that you have the necessary skill and knowledge to attempt the route. If you are strictly a hiker and not trained in the art of climbing, don’t try to scale Mount Olympus; leave it for a later day when your skills have improved. The guidebook writer can make suggestions as to destinations, but they are only that; the final choice is yours. If the description of a trail raises the suspicion in your mind that it may be beyond your skill level, don’t go. Try an easier trail first.

The answer is much the same for when to go. Obviously, summer is a better time than winter to spend on mountain trails. Spring and fall are seasonal transition times, when the weather can quickly change from summer to winter, or vice versa. The weather is therefore the critical factor in determining when to go into the remote backcountry areas. The best times for backpacking trips are summer and fall—especially the delightful Indian summer in the fall, which is usually all too brief. In fact, backpacking is generally restricted by most of its devotees to the summer and fall months. Not many care to go camping during the winter—the nights are too long, the temperature too low, the threat of incoming storms ever present. It just is not the time when most people want to camp out, although some do and apparently find it rewarding. Spring, too, is touch and go. Often in the high country it is no more than a lingering winter, and the snowpack in the Olympics is usually deep at that time of year. Down in the low valleys, the winter’s sometimes heavy accumulation of snow is slow to melt, and the river bottoms usually aren’t compatible with camping out until mid-April or May, although exceptions occur in some years. Above 2500 feet it is still winter in the spring.

As a rule of thumb, if you want to camp out in the winter, limit yourself to areas below 1500 feet elevation. In the spring months you can go as high as you feel inclined to posthole your way up slopes covered with deep snow, being always mindful of the risk of being caught in the path of an avalanche. Think of mid-July as the time to begin your high-country backpacks—from mid-July to late October. And constantly keep the weather in mind. Whenever a severe storm is forecast, don’t go—unless your goal is to experience such a phenomenon. Wait until another day when the weather is benign.