Port Angeles, Washington

Majesty in the mountains

An alpine adventure on Hurricane Ridge

by LYNN JACKART

Hurricane Ridge sounded like a dangerous place to visit.
As we drove into Port Angeles on a bright sunny August morning, we stopped at the City Pier overlooking the Strait of Juan de Fuca. In the distance a 2.7-mile sandbar called Ediz Hook jutted out into the strait, creating a sheltered bay.

The Victoria Express (a passenger-only ferry) sailed past, the 18-mile crossing from Victoria, BC, coming to an end (it runs daily from May to October). A year-round vehicle and passenger ferry, the MV Coho, also sails to Victoria.

We walked the long, wide pier. A stage and open area for markets, concerts and other events stood vacant. Sailboats were moored on the water and on a lower pier, fishermen and children were busy fishing and bringing in crab traps.

We looked south at the snow-capped Olympic Mountains where Hurricane Ridge was waiting for us. The entrance to Olympic National Park was on Race Street in Port Angeles, a short distance from the pier. At the park booth we paid an entrance fee of $15, which was good for seven days.  The road was paved and we started to climb, then sat in silence as the road narrowed and the trees stood tall on either side of us.

We drove through the first of three tunnels and came to a halt. Some parts of the road were under construction, so we waited for a pilot car to lead us on. Sometimes through the trees the views opened up and it was amazing. We could see Port Angeles, the Strait of Juan de Fuca and the Olympic Mountains. Deep valleys of dark green forests led to the strait, and the mountains loomed majestic and snow-covered. It took our breath away.

The 18-mile trip took us over an hour, and we were at an altitude of 5,242 feet above sea level. At the top was a large visitor centre with a cafe souvenirs, information and a lookout over the mountain range. It was incredible to see mountains from the top of another mountain.

The walking paths were paved, and strict instructions were posted: Never leave the path and do not feed or pet the animals. We began to walk uphill and snow greeted us at the top . As we walked along the ridge, we saw a deer grazing; he was close enough to touch, but we remembered the rules. He didn’t move or take any notice of us but kept eating. Small flowers bloomed and green grass covered the ground.

It was cold at this altitude but we came prepared. We walked along the overlooks and took some pictures; however, clouds were starting to move in so our time was short. On the trip down we waited in line to be led through the construction areas again, and it took almost no time to get down the mountain. Driving into Port Angeles it seemed noisy compared to the peaceful calm in the mountains. Once back at the motorhome we looked up at the towering Olympic Mountains again. The clouds had moved in and the weather had changed; we could no longer see the mountain peaks. Our side trip had taken us almost a mile high into the mountains, where we had experienced amazing beauty and wonder.

• Send to a friend
• Comment