The other day I took off early in the morning to scoot on up to Lake Angeles. The weather was perfect, I was the first one on the trail and I enjoyed the solitude as long as I could.
Once I hit the lake, (about 2500 foot elevation gain in 3.5 miles), I found a patch of sun, layed my head down on my backpack and woke up two and a half hours later. It felt so good.
I spent the rest of the day exploring around the lake, napping here and there and then found a nice out of the way spot to curl up for the night. It was about perfect.
The week before at work was insane. We had a Navy Blackhawk helicopter make an emergency landing at our heli pad and then the next day two inmates attempted to escape, taking one of my friends hostage while the other smashed though the fence forcing one of our officers to shoot him. The insanity that followed was draining to the body and soul. People were stepping up and doing jobs that normally don’t get done by staff. We were doing laundry, making meals, hauling trash… Lock downs aren’t all that fun. We work harder than ever keeping the place running.
I had three days off and spending those two up in the mountains was the best thing that I could have done.
Sunday night I got home and went with the family up to a friends house for a barbecue and fireworks. I showed the kids how to make a simple snare and played a lot of fetch with the dogs. Good times were had by all.
Monday the 4th was a rare day in this area. Fourth of July in Forks is almost ALWAYS spent in the rain. This year sunburns were a common sight. It was nice.
I showed up to work on my Monday surprisingly refreshed and ready to go. Things still aren’t completely back to normal, but I thrive on chaos. We own this.
High above the Sol Duc Valley, between Deer Lake and Mink Lake lies a small isolated lake aptly labeled Hidden Lake.
I had noticed it on the maps for some time but I had never heard of anyone going there. I decided I would. From what I could gather from the maps, it was about 2000 feet off the trail; a little bushwhacking would be in order, but I didn’t think it would be that tough. I wondered why there wasn’t a trail cut to it. I would soon find out why.
I started out later than I would have liked, but it didn’t make a difference in the end. On the trail at 9:00 I reached Sol Duc Falls in no time and then began my ascent to the Canyon Creek bridge where I would leave the main trail and cut across the hillside to the lake.
I knew from studying the topo maps that I needed to work my way uphill, however, shortly into the off-trail trip I came across a rather deep and imposing stone cliffed canyon. I couldn’t tell where it ended on the uphill side so I started working my way down. Before long, it became shallow enough to cross safely and I continued on.
This was some steep terrain. My left foot was constantly a foot above my right on the hill. There were fallen trees, tangled branches and shrubs and stone cliffs rising above and below me. As hard as I tried to work my way uphill, the terrain kept pushing me back down. It was some rough going.
Coming around a bend I see a huge rock outcropping. I knew I was getting close to the finish because I could hear Hidden Creek on the other side of it, so I had to choose between going around the rock and following the creek up or figuring out a way up the hill on this side of the rock. I opted to climb the rock field on this side of it. It was steep and loose going but before long I was up on top looking back down at where I just was. Up here, the blueberry bushes are thick. In a couple months it will be so chock full of fruit I’m sure you’ll have to wrestle a bear to get your share.
I worked up that ridge and there was a toad in the middle of my path. He just sat there and let me pass, he barely moved.
Coming up over the rise, I saw the lake. Finally. It’s a small forest lake fed by an ice cold stream on its’ south side. It’s not that deep, but I’m sure there’s at least a couple trout in there. The southern shore is marshy and soft, carpeted by low white flowers. I asked around and finally, someone at The Survival Podcast identified it as Elkslip Marsh Marigold. Cool, thanks.
Working my way around the lake, I found a nice little campsite between two forks of the stream that feeds the lake. There’s a fire pit and a flat spot just big enough for a small tent. I want to come back here later in the summer.
On the other side of the lake, the open side, I pushed my way along the shore through tons of huckleberry bushes. They were blooming so thickly that once they start producing berries, you won’t be able to walk through the area without making juice. I really want to get back up here when they’re ripe. I wouldn’t be surprised to see a bear or two here when the berries are in season.
By now I had explored all around the lake and decided to head back. I was at a loss. I didn’t want to retrace my steps just because of the difficulty I had with it on my way up. I checked the map and saw a sort of shelf above my original route so I made for that. Before long, however, I ran into another outcropping barring my way… my options were straight up or straight down. I opted for down. I knew I could intersect my old path and then make a decision on how to proceed then. There was just one problem: It was uncomfortably steep. I knew I could scoot or slide down the hill, but if I lost control it would be bad news. Luckily I had a hundred feet of paracord in my pack. I wrapped it around my waist, the other end around a tree and then started picking my way down, letting the cord support me if I started to slip. Douled up, I could on make it about 50 feet before having to re-rig it around another tree. I did this about 7 or 8 times before a familiar sight appeared. I had only made it as far as that huge outcropping below the lake.
Now at the site of my original path I decided “screw it, I’m just making a bee-line to the Sol Duc”. I could hear it below and according to the topo map it was just another 700 vertical feet to the Lovers Lane trail.
The remainder of the descent was relatively uneventful. The forest thickened a bit and it reminded me of my youth; out there running around the hillsides jumping from fallen logs to the bushes below, scrambling over, under and around giant wind fell old growth and sword ferns. Before long the Sol Duc came into view. I was pouring sweat and having too good a time running down this hill, but I made it to the trail, dropped my pack, readjusted my clothes and drank almost the rest of my water.
I had 2 32oz bottles that I started with. I had emptied ne by the time I reached the lake and I drank my fill and refilled both bottles at the stream above the lake. I know, I know. Never drink wild water without purifying it first, and I’ve always been religious about that, but this stream was soooo nice, I couldn’t pass it up. Besides, I could afford to lose a little weight… heh heh. Giardia: The ultimate diet plan
Back on the established trail I made quick time to the falls and then back to the car at the trailhead. It was one heck of a journey, and according to my GPS, I had gone less than 5 miles. It was a slow and rough 5 miles, but I’m sure I’ll do it again in the near future.
The North Fork of the Sol Duc river is a different one. Relatively level, not many hills, but there is the river: Just one mile in you have to cross it. Then several more miles in there are more crossings. In the summer months this is no real issue, just bring your sandals or other water shoes, cross it then be on your way. However, every other time of year, the water is too high to cross with any real certainty.
A friend of mine at work had been planning this hike for several weeks. There were about 9 of us planning on going, but when the time came, only four showed up: Me, Jerry, James and Gene. Jerry was our “guide” on this trip, he’s been up here several times and knew what to expect… though he never really let the rest of us know the full extent of it.
We met at the trailhead about 830, geared up and set off.
The trail begins as a gentle uphill grade, a bit rocky and several small trees and branches upon it. After about a half mile, you reach the ridge and begin the descent into the river valley.
Pondering the next move
We heard the river long before we ever saw it. It sounded big. Once we saw it our suspicions were confirmed. Poking around, looking upstream and down, there were no places to cross safely. Jerry pipes up and says that there’s a pretty good sized log about a mile upstream that we can cross, but we have to bush-whack our way up there. All righty then, off we went, up the river, opposite the established trail on the other side. We could see it, sometimes not even 25 feet away, just out of reach. The rapids were way to large and the channel way too deep.
We soon learned what he meant by bushwhacking: There were points where we were scaling rocks and logs over the rushing water as seen here:
Most of the was either boggy marshy mud hole hopping or pushing our way through tangled vine maple, salmon berry bushes or devils club. It took us an hour and a half to cover that one mile.
Yeah, we crossed that upper log
Sure enough, according to my GPS, almost exactly one mile we see the “pretty good sized” log that Jerry was talking about. He skillfully omitted one vital bit of information: Is was about a 50 foot span probably 20 feet above the river and rocks below. The log was about a foot wide in the middle and bowed downward considerably. I’ve never liked crossing logs, but I’m no stranger to it, however, this one made me wonder WTF I was doing. Jerry jumped on it, scurried across and dropped his pack on the other side.
I figured well, we have to do it so lets do it. I hopped up on it, pensively made my way to the first branch sticking up out of it and worked my way around it.
I don’t know it you’ve ever crossed any logs in your time, but the WORST feeling you can have up on one of them is going around an upright limb: You have to move your body off center, over the free space below you and the branches themselves are rarely sturdy enough to reliably support you in that endeavor. the first one was the worst, the remaining limbs were easily navigated, but before and after each one I had to pause, breathe, control my heart rate, steady my legs and then continue on. Once past the decline and halfway point, it got easier. I picked up the pace and soon made it to the other side. My legs shook for several minutes afterwords.
Gene was next. He hopped up on it, made his way past the branches, pausing and cursing and wondering what the hell we got ourselves into just like I did, and before long made it to safety.
James on the other hand has ear problems and therefore poor equilibrium. He was forced to scoot across, crawling over the branches. He made it though.
Pausing before continuing up the trail, we decided to hell with the log, we were going to brave the river on the return trip.
The remainder of the trail is clear and mostly flat or a slightly up hill grade. The old growth timber is gigantic and the views of the river are gorgeous. There are many deep green and crystal clear pools that I’m sure are just full of trout. I wish I had brought my fishing pole. Perhaps next time.
Shortly after rejoining the trail, heading over a flat area and past a campsite by the river we spotted several elk. One of them was bigger than any elk I have seen in many years; it was still in velvet, the antlers were still growing, but even so, it was HUGE. They spotted us, bolted across the river like it was just a trickle and then disappeared up the hillside in a flash.
Lunch Time
About 2 or 3 miles later we stopped for lunch and decided that now would be a good a time as any to turn around. We were wet and cold from tromping through the brush and we wanted to give ourselves plenty of time to cross the river down below.
The return trip was uneventful aside from the bear tracks across the trail that weren’t there when we came up. Not sure why, but everyone picked up the pace a bit.
Up the Creek
Before we knew it, we were back at the original river crossing. From this side it looked even deeper than before and nobody was particularly excited to jump in and get soaked by all this glacier runoff. I was pumping myself up to ford the river with the rope to secure on the other side when Jerry signals us from down stream: He found a better spot. We make our way about 200 yards down the river to find a giant spruce laying across the river, just out of sight from the trail at the crossing. We navigated the upturned root wad and strolled casually across the rapids. If only we had looked downstream, we could have avoided a whole lot of trouble in the first place.
After the spruce crossing, the remaining mile to the cars went by in a flash. Something about a cooler full of brews waiting in the car puts a little motivation in my step, and man did it taste good. Replenishing the lost electrolytes is vital after a long hard days trekking over the river and through the brush.
