High Divide Loop

Mount Olympus from the High Divide

18.5 miles loop, 4000 feet elevation gain
Difficulty: Strenuous, due to distance
Access: Paved road to trailhead, Olympic National Park entrance fee required; limited permits for backpacking

The High Divide is Olympic National Park's most stunningly scenic hike and one of the most complete hikes in all of the Pacific Northwest. This loop trail visits roaring waterfalls in old growth forests, climbs to pretty wooded lakes, passes subalpine meadows brimming with wildflowers and huckleberries, and then delivers out-of-this-world views of Mount Olympus along the hike's namesake ridge. At just shy of 20 miles, the hike is best and usually done as an overnight or multi-night backpack to enjoy the copious treasures along the loop; however, as permits for camping in the Seven Lakes Basin are difficult to obtain, the High Divide is also doable as a very long and tiring day hike for very fit hikers.

Hiking this trail fulfilled a personal dream for me: when I first visited Olympic National Park in 2003, I bought a wall poster with a photo of Mount Olympus from the High Divide. I've kept that poster hanging in my bedroom for the past 14 years, constantly mesmerized by the majesty of the Blue Glacier as it spills off of the high seat of Olympus. I'm a little embarassed to admit that this image may have played at least a small part in my decision to move to Seattle after leaving Charlottesville.

I hiked the High Divide on a late August day, taking advantage of one of the few remaining summer weekends to finally visit the place that I had dreamed about for a decade and a half. I drove out to the Olympic Peninsula the night before; if you're coming from Seattle and planning on doing this as a day hike, that's almost mandatory as few hikers will have the stamina for eight hours of driving and twelve or so hours of hiking in a single day. From Port Angeles, I took US 101 east past Lake Crescent to the turnoff for Sol Duc; here, I turned left and followed the Sol Duc Road to the trailhead at its terminus. I started my hike at 6:20 AM to beat the heat and have enough daylight to do the whole loop.

From the trailhead, the wide, well-maintained trail to Sol Duc Falls dropped briefly downhill to a junction with a trail leading to the Sol Duc Campground about 200 meters in. Continuing straight, I followed the level trail across a small bridge over a tiny tributary to reach the trail shelter at Sol Duc Falls and the junction with the return leg of the loop at 0.8 miles from the trailhead. Here, I took the right fork for Sol Duc Falls; the trail dropped a little further to reach a bridge crossing over a narrow, rocky canyon carved out by the Sol Duc River. While Sol Duc Falls is not particularly impressive in height, it is exceptionally graceful, with three (or four, depending on the season) parallel drops tumbling into a mossy gorge. At 6:40 in the morning, I had the falls all to myself.

Sol Duc Falls

Past the falls, the trail turned and began heading downriver alongside the south side of the river. A couple hundred feet past the falls, the trail for Deer Lake and the Seven Lakes Basin branched off from the Lovers Lane Trail; I took the left fork towards Deer Lake.

The trail climbed steadily uphill through the forest in the valley of Canyon Creek for the next three miles to reach Deer Lake. The forest in the Sol Duc Valley appeared to be old growth, so there were some enormous trees along the way. At one point, the trail made a crossing on a well-built bridge over cascading Canyon Creek; at other points, it was possible to spot waterfalls on the creek through the trees, although there were no good views of those falls from the trail itself. Huckleberries, both red and black, were ripe alongside the trail, providing good snacking opportunities during the ascent.

Three miles past Sol Duc Falls, I came to the wooded, serene shores of Deer Lake. While Deer Lake lacked a stunning alpine backdrop, the perfect reflections on the tranquil surface of the lake were beautiful.

Deer Lake

The trail crossed a footbridge over the outlet of the lake and then began to skirt the eastern shore of the lake, providing multiple opportunities for lakeshore access. At the far end of the lake, the trail returned to the forest and climbed slightly to reach a flatter section of the valley with multiple tarns and some small, semi-open meadows. Berry picking here continued to be excellent.

Tarn near Deer Lake

Subalpine meadows around Deer Lake

After winding through the basin, the trail began to ascend and exit the valley. Views of the surrounding forested peaks in the Sol Duc Valley improved continuously as I hiked uphill until the viewshed broadened and peaks from further valleys and the mountains of Vancouver Island appeared.

Looking back down towards the Sol Duc Valley

As the trail began to climb up through subalpine meadows, I saw soom remnants of the summer's wildflower bloom. Lupine and paintbrush still dotted these meadows near the top of the ridge. Looking out from these meadows, good views abound of the Canyon Creek valley and of the Pacific Ocean in the distance; Deer Lake appeared in the valley below.

Lupine and paintbrush

The trail reentered the forest as it followed the top of the ridge, soon swinging to the south side of the ridge and emerging out in the upper watershed of the Bogachiel River about 6 miles from the trailhead. From here on, the trail remained more or less out in the open for the remainder of the High Divide over the course of the next 4 extremely scenic miles. I had a peek view of Mount Olympus and the White Glacier upon first emerging from the woods, but the peaks of the Hoh-Bogachiel divide soon blocked my sightline of the glaciated peaks.

The trail traversed open, meadow-filled slopes as it ascended along the Sol Duc-Bogachiel divide, passing many patches of blooming wildflower. Gentian was especially plentiful; I seem to have caught it at its peak bloom date. Lupine, paintbrush, and western anemone were plentiful but many other flowers were clearly past their prime.

Trailside gentian

Late-blooming wildflowers

Western anemone

Views out from the trail weren't bad either: green meadows filled the bottom of the Bogachiel River valley and verdant forests filled the mountainsides along the headwaters of this rainforest river. At 7 miles from the trailhead, I passed the junction for the spur trail that descended to the Seven Lakes Basin; at the junction, I took the right fork to stay on the High Divide Trail.

Headwaters of the Bogachiel River

At 7.5 miles from the trailhead, the trail began a steep switchback ascent along the side of Bogachiel Peak, dramatically improving the view of the Pacific Ocean in the distance. From this high vantage point, the shimmering blue ocean appeared behind the many layers of forested ridges of the Olympics.

The Pacific Ocean behind the forested ridges of the Olympics

Shortly after finishing the switchback ascent, a short spur off the left side of the trail led to a viewpoint over the Seven Lakes Basin. Mount Appleton anchored one end of the view while Mount Carrie in the Bailey Range appeared to the east. Below, a number of small, glistening lakes dotted the rocky basin.

Seven Lakes Basin

Continuing forward, the trail soon came to its first true view of Mount Olympus, framed in the saddle between Bogachiel Peak and a small knob south of the peak.

First view of Olympus

The trail rounded the south ridge of Bogachiel Peak, passing the spur trail to Hoh Lake, and emerged into a jaw-dropping view of Mount Olympus and the Bailey Range with the milky waters of the Hoh River snaking below. While Mount Olympus is not particularly tall- at less than 8000 feet, it doesn't even make the list of Washington's 100 tallest peaks- the relief between the summit and the bottom of the Hoh Valley at 1000 feet was extremely dramatic.

Hoh River Valley and Mount Olympus from Bogachiel Peak

The trail began wrapping around Bogachiel Peak, cutting through mountainside meadows. After 8 miles of hiking, I had finally arrived at the High Divide, the subalpine ridge separating the Hoh and the Sol Duc watersheds.

A little past the Hoh Lake spur junction, I came to a marked spur trail that led up Bogachiel Peak. I took the detour, climbing briefly to reach the 5470-foot high point of the hike. While the summit is partially surrounded by trees so there is not a clear view in all directions, the scene was still stunning. Mount Olympus poked out above trees to the south, the High Divide stretched onward towards the Pacific Ocean to the west, many layers of forested ridges reached out towards Cape Flattery, and the Seven Lakes Basin lay below the peak. I could see a sliver of the Strait of Juan de Fuca separating the peninsula from Vancouver Island.

View along the Hoh-Bogachiel Divide from Bogachiel Peak

I enjoyed the view with the company of some other ambitious day hikers doing the High Divide Loop. A solo hiker from New Mexico had made it up to the Olympics after watching the eclipse in eastern Oregon a week earlier and decided to tackle the best of the park while he was here; two other hikers had come up for the day from Port Angeles.

Seven Lakes Basin with Vancouver Island rising in the back, viewed from Bogachiel Peak

The two miles of hiking that followed from Bogachiel Peak were utterly dreamlike. Tracing the High Divide, the trail delivered views alternately of Mount Olympus and the Seven Lakes Basin. It was difficult not to stop every twenty feet to soak in the scenery and snap a few photos. Lakes with names as varied as Lunch, Morgenroth, No Name, and No. 8 dotted the landscape to the north.

Mount Olympus from the High Divide Trail

View of the Bailey Range and the Hoh River Valley

Seven Lakes Basin

The trail along the High Divide had multiple sections with gradual ascents and descents but the consistency of the views along the trail made the hiking relatively easy.

Bailey Range

Bogachiel Peak and the Seven Lakes Basin

The highlight of the view was always Mount Olympus. Olympus is barely the highest peak in the Olympic Mountains: at 7980 feet, it barely beats out 7790-foot Mount Deception and 7750-foot Mount Constance, the second and third tallest peaks in the range. Yet Olympus is a much grander mountain: it has a massive, throne-like summit that holds many glaciers including the White, the Blue, and the Hoh, three of Washington State's most impressive glaciers. It is the tallest peak in the Coast Range in Washington and Oregon. As the Olympic Peninsula is topographically isolated from the high peaks of the Cascades, Olympus has 7800 feet of prominence, making it the most prominent non-volcanic peak in the state.

Mount Olympus

After passing above Lake No. 8, the High Divide Trail came to the ridge that marked the eastern edge of the Seven Lakes Basin. The trail cut along the grassy slopes on the south side of that ridge, leaving behind the views of the Seven Lakes Basin and the ocean.

The High Divide

This stretch of trail delivered the final and most spectacular views of Mount Olympus. From this angle, I could see the Blue Glacier's perfect turn as it flowed down from the Snow Dome of Mount Olympus, with the two arching curves of the glacier's lateral moraines traced atop the ice. The Blue Glacier reached its terminus above a steep, rocky cliff; at the time of the park's establishment, the glacier tumbled down that cliff in a wild icefall. While the Blue Glacier remains impressive today, climate change has not spared this glacier from a major retreat.

The Blue Glacier makes a beautiful turn as it flows off Mount Olympus

After leaving the last view of Mount Olympus, the trail entered the Heart Lake Basin, with a nice view of the open meadowlands around Heart Lake and of Mount Carrie in the distance. After descending along the ridge to a junction with the Cat Basin Primitive Trail, the trail turned to the left and descended off the High Divide into the lake basin. Heart Lake is aptly named, having naturally formed the double-lobed shape that for some reason we associate with the human heart. At Heart Lake, the berry fields returned: I spent an hour near the lake picking and eating huckleberries to my heart's content.

Heart Lake

I wasn't the only one enjoying the berries at the lake. While I munched, two bears ambled through the berry patches near the lake, more intent on stuffing their bellies with sugar and antioxidants for the winter than they were with paying attention to the nearby humans. One bear even hopped in Heart Lake for a short swim.

Resident bear at Heart Lake

A group of ptarmigans with a number of ptarmigan chicks wandered around on social paths near the lakeshore, seemingly oblivious to the presence of hikers sitting by the lakeshore and swimming in the lake.

Ptarmigan

I was loathe to leave Heart Lake and spent more time than I probably should have eating berries. When I finally realized that I had to leave or risk having hike back in the dark, I reluctantly pulled myself away and began the downhill journey back to the trailhed. The first part of the descent remained out in open subalpine slopes, but the trail returned to the forest with about 7 miles of hiking left from the trailhead.

Descent from Heart Lake

Along the descent, the trail passed the semi-open meadowlands of Soleduck Park. While the terrain seemed beautiful and berries were abundant, the increasingly late hour drove me to continue onward without stopping.

Soleduck Park

Past Soleduck Park, the trail crossed Bridge Creek, one of the headwater tributaries of the Sol Duc River, via a sturdy log bridge. Past the bridge, a steep descent down a few switchbacks brought me to the bottom of the valley. A rocky trail tread made the descent slower and more difficult than I had initially hoped, cutting down at the pace that I needed to maintain to finish the trail before dark.

With about 5.5 miles left from the trailhead, I crossed the Sol Duc River on a log bridge. The trail smoothed out a bit afterward, with a nice dirt tread allowing me to book it most of the rest of the way back to the trailhead. At 5 miles from the trailhead, I passed the turnoff for the trail up to Appleton Pass. The trail stayed in a forest of massive old growth the entire way, paralleling the Sol Duc River and approaching closely enough at times to view a number of small waterfalls on the river.

Waterfall on the Sol Duc River

After cruising through the stretch of trail paralleling the Sol Duc River, I found myself at the shelter at Sol Duc Falls, just 0.8 miles from the trailhead. I had not run into any other hikers since crossing Bridge Creek, but here, just a few hundred yards from the trailhead, I encountered many hikers strolling back from a short jaunt to Sol Duc Falls. I returned to the trailhead 13 hours after I had started and a little under 3 hours after leaving Heart Lake for the return leg of the loop; as I drove back towards Seattle, I caught beautiful dusk lighting on both Lake Crescent and the Strait of Juan de Fuca. I visited two friends in Port Angeles before making the drive to Bainbridge to catch the last ferry of the night back to Seattle, collapsing in my own bed at 2:10 AM, over 21 hours after I woke up to hike the loop the previous morning.

I had inordinately lofty expectations about this trail prior to hiking it, but somehow the High Divide managed to live up to be everything that I wished it would be. If you can handle this hike, you should go. 

Oyster Dome

Salish waterscape

4.5 miles round trip, 1200 feet elevation gain from Samish Overlook
Difficulty: Moderate
Access: Good gravel road to Samish Overlook Trailhead, Discover Pass required; or paved road to trailhead on Chuckanut Drive, where there is extremely limited parking

Oyster Dome is a rocky outcrop on a wooded summit in northwest Washington's Chuckanut Mountains with an astounding view of the Salish Sea, its islands, and the surrounding mountains. A good hike during winter and spring months when the Cascades are still buried in snow, this is perhaps one of my favorite lowland hikes in Washington State. The view at the summit encompasses the San Juan Islands, the Olympics, and Vancouver Island, and a secret viewpoint on the other side of the dome provides a peek of the Pacific Ranges rising above Vancouver. The hike up is a good winter workout, although parking for this hike is getting progressively more difficult as the hike's popularity explodes; I'd recommend hiking from Samish Overlook to avoid the hazardous parking situation at the Chuckanut Drive trailhead.

I've hiked this trail twice, once from each trailhead; I'll provide directions here to the Samish Overlook Trailhead as that's the preferred approach. Coming from Seattle with a friend in November, we took I-5 north past Burlington to exit 240, turning left when we came off the exit ramp to head west on Lake Samish Road. Shortly afterwards, we made a left on Barrell Springs Road and then a right onto Blanchard Hill Road; we followed this unpaved road to its end at the Samish Overlook, following signs for the Overlook at the multiple junctions along the way. From the trailhead, we had a gorgeous view south of the lowlands of the Skagit Valley.

Hikers who start from the Chuckanut Road trailhead start with about a mile worth of ascent that packs in nearly 1000 feet as the trail makes broad switchbacks up the slopes of the Chuckanut Mountains; this approach adds a mile and 800 feet of climbing to the hike. Towards the top of the climb, a brief clearing delivers the first view of the hike of Samish Bay. I'd once again like to discourage hikers from using the Chuckanut Drive Trailhead as there is very limited parking at that trailhead.

View along the Pacific Northwest Trail

For hikers starting at the preferred trailhead at Samish Overlook, even better views are available at the parking lot. From the parking area, my friend and I followed the Samish Overlook connector trail slightly downhill for two-fifths of a mile to its junction with the Oyster Dome Trail and the Pacific Northwest Trail coming up from Chuckanut Drive. At the trail junction, we continued straight to head north on the Oyster Dome Trail. At this point, an unfortunate event occurred: the sole of my friend's old hiking boot caught some object along the trail and separated from his boot. Not wanting to have the sole flapping on his boot, my friend tore off the rest of the sole; we briefly contemplated cutting short the hike but my friend decided that we might as well press forward and go up to the dome.

The trail to Oyster Dome climbed very gradually for the next three-quarters of a mile, with slight ups and downs as we crossed multiple creeks. The forest around us was lush, with ferns covering the floor beneath a canopy of cedars and Douglas firs.

Chuckanut forests

At about one and a third miles from the trailhead, the trail began the main steep climb of the hike. The trail made a steep ascent through about 400 feet along a small ridge, leveling out as it approached the plateau-like top of the Chuckanut Mountains. Soon after the trail flattened out, we came to a junction where a spur trail for Oyster Dome broke off the main trail, which continued towards Lily and Lizard Lakes. We took the spur trail, quickly crossing a creek before starting a final uphill push to the summit. Finally, a little over two miles from the start, we came to an exposed cliff facing west at the summit of Oyster Dome.

The Salish Sea

The view of the Salish Sea from Oyster Dome is expansive. To the west lay the San Juan Islands, the most prominent of which were nearby Lummi Island and farther away Cypress and Orcas Islands. Behind the San Juans lay the snow-capped mountains of Vancouver Island. To the southwest, Fidalgo Island and the refinery at Anacortes lay beyond Samish Bay and Samish Island. Behind Anacortes rose the wall of the Olympic Mountains. Container ships dotted the sea, impressing upon us the importance of these waterways to trade in the Northwest.

View from Oyster Dome

The name Oyster Dome likely comes from the abundance of oysters in nearby Samish Bay, which was the place where Pacific oysters were first introduced into the Salish Sea. There are still multiple large oyster farms based in Samish Bay today, just a shell's throw from the dome.

After enjoying the view to the west, we explored the back (northeast) side of the dome, where we found a small gap in the trees that afforded us a view to the north. Besides seeing the nearby ridges of the Chuckanut Mountains, we could also see out into the valley of the Fraser River in Canada; the city of Abbotsford was backed by the beautiful peaks of the Pacific Range. We spotted both Golden Ears and Mount Robie Reid, some of the more easily identifiable of the Canadian peaks.

Coast Ranges of British Columbia

Ultimately, my friend had no problem finishing the hike without soles on his boots; we celebrated his accomplishment by consuming large amounts of delicious Indian food at Chaat House on our return.

On the initial of my two visits to Oyster Dome, I hiked up from Chuckanut Drive and afterwards caught a beautiful sunset over Samish Bay, with the sun disappearing under the horizon between the Olympic Mountains and the San Juans. The second visit, when I hiked from Samish Overlook, was followed by watching dusk set over Samish Bay from far above. Both were magical moments brought alive by the interplay of light and shadow with the water and the surrounding landscape of mountains.

Sunset on the Salish Sea

Comet Falls and Van Trump Park

Comet Falls

To Comet Falls: 4 miles round trip, 1100 feet elevation gain
To Van Trump Park: 5.6 miles round trip, 2200 feet elevation gain
To Mildred Point: 7.5 miles round trip, 3000 feet elevation gain
Difficulty: Moderate (to Comet Falls and Van Trump Park), Moderate-Strenuous to Mildred Point
Access: Paved road to trailhead, Mount Rainier National Park entrance fee required

The hike to Van Trump Park in Washington State's Mount Rainier National Park visits multiple destinations of note, making it a hike with good rewards adjustable to level of fitness. The wildflower meadows of Van Trump Park and the stark, wild view over the canyon of the Kautz Creek from Mildred Point are both worthy spots, but luckily for hikers who prefer a lighter outing, the true highlight of this hike is the wispy, free-falling Comet Falls, one of the most extraordinary waterfalls in a national park packed with them.

I hiked this trail on a hazy, early August weekend with a friend, setting out from Seattle early in the morning after finding an AQI reading of less than 100 for Mount Rainier that day. From Seattle, we took State Route 167 and then SR 512 south to Puyallup, exited onto SR 161 and followed it south past South Hill, Graham, and Eatonville to the junction with SR 7; we turned left and followed Highway 7 to Elbe and continued on Highway 706 from Elbe towards Mount Rainier. Passing Ashford, we entered the park and followed the road past Longmire to the Comet Falls Trailhead, where there was limited parking on the left side of the road. We snagged the last parking spot and started up the trail.

The trail started out by climbing above the road, running parallel to it for a couple hundred meters until the trail reached a bridge crossing over Van Trump Creek. Here, the pretty blue water of the creek tumbled down successive steps in a narrow canyon, falling down Christine Falls just a little downstream of the bridge crossing.

Van Trump Creek

Past the bridge crossing, the trail became rocky as it began a steady but gradual ascent along Van Trump Creek. For the next mile and a half, the trail headed uphill through the forest, at times via switchbacks. At a few points, the trail broke out into clearings near Van Trump Creek; one such clearing had a limited view of Mount Rainier rising above. The trail also closely approached the creek a few times, with short spur trails leading to views over small plunging waterfalls.

At about 1.8 miles from the trailhead, we crossed a log bridge over a tributary of Van Trump Creek. Looking upstream, we spotted a pretty three-tiered waterfall, one of the multiple scenic water features along this hike.

Cascades along the trail

After crossing the stream, we almost immediately came to the first view of Comet Falls, a wispy, horsetail-style falls that leaped off the steep cliffs guarding Van Trump Park, plunging over 300 feet. Along with Spray Falls and Narada Falls, Comet Falls is one of the most impressive of the waterfalls at Mount Rainier National Park; the high concentration of cascades near the mountain is due to the sharp relief difference between the glaciers terminating at the 5000-8000 foot level on the mountain and the bottom of the Nisqually Valley at under 3000 feet just a few miles away.

Comet Falls

Many hikers turn around after catching this initial view of Comet Falls; I strongly urge that you continue onward to the base of the falls, even if you're not planning on hiking to Van Trump Park. From the initial viewpoint to the base of the falls, the trail stays out in the open with constant and increasingly better views of the feathery drop. Near the base of the falls, two miles from the trailhead, the trail makes a sharp switchback, with an unmarked spur trail continuing onward for a closer look at the falls. At the base, we were showered with a strong spray from the falls and we spotted a rainbow in the mist at the foot of the falls.

Rainbow at Comet Falls

Past the falls, the trail reentered the forest, climbing briefly and then flattening out before embarking on a steady switchback ascent through thinning forest with a plethora of blooming wildflowers. Presumably views would stretch to encompass the Tatoosh Range, Mount St. Helens, and High Rock on a nice day, but with the thick haze we could just barely see the Tatoosh. Blooming lupine, beargrass, paintbrush, valerian, and arnica made up for the lack of views.

Beargrass on the trail

Two and a half miles from the trailhead, we came to the junction between the Van Trump Park Trail and the Rampart Ridge Trail. Heading left at the junction led to Rampart Ridge and Mildred Point, while the trail to the right led up into Van Trump Park. We decided to first check out Van Trump Park and took the right fork, which immediately began a steep ascent.

The Van Trump Park Trail made an aggressive uphill push in its short 0.3-mile length, climbing through steep meadows with occasional views of Mount Rainier and improving views of the Tatoosh Range; as Mount Rainier was coated in haze at the time of my hike, the meadows were the true highlight, showcasing beautiful blooms of paintbrush, western anemone, lupine, heather, and beargrass. After an especially steep section of the trail, we reached the end of the maintained trail at a spot amongst the trees; an unmaintained and clearly oft-traveled use path continued forward, so we plowed ahead. I'm glad we did: the most expansive meadows at Van Trump Park were still ahead.

A couple hundred feet beyond the sign, we broke out into a lovely, lush meadow with an explosion of lupine, heather, and paintbrush. Wilted avalanche lilies were also everywhere; we were perhaps a week too late to see that portion of the bloom. Point Success, the southernmost peak of Mount Rainier, towered above us.

Lupine blooms at Van Trump Park

Walking through the meadows of the park, we found successively more impressive patches of wildflowers. Overall, Van Trump Park had a wonderful wildflower display, although the size of the meadows was a little smaller than those found at Paradise, Spray Park, or Indian Henry's and this was not the most flattering angle for Rainier.

Bloom at Van Trump Park

The origin of the name Comet Falls is fairly obvious; Van Trump Park is named after P.B. Van Trump, who along with Hazard Stevens made the first recorded ascent of Mount Rainier in 1870. Speaking of names, it's interesting to note the dominance of names of men who passed through the landscape transiently- Camp Muir, Stevens Canyon, Van Trump Park- over names preferred by those who had lived near the mountain for centuries. Indeed, the common name of the mountain today- Rainier- was bestowed by Captain George Vancouver for a man who never laid eyes on the mountain; Rainier is almost uniformly used over Tahoma, the name bestowed by the Native Americans who lived nearby.

Wildflowers of Van Trump Park

After sufficient wandering through the wildflowers, we backtracked to the junction with the Rampart Ridge Trail and followed that trail towards Mildred Point. Past the junction, the Rampart Ridge Trail made a rapid descent past patches of avalanche lilies to a log bridge crossing over Van Trump Creek.

Avalanche lilies

After crossing Van Trump Creek, the trail headed southwest along meadow-lined slopes above the creek until we saw the creek plunge into the abyss at the top of Comet Falls. Some of the flowers blooming profusely along the trail we had not seen earlier in Van Trump Park: here there was plenty of red from columbine and orange from tiger lilies, painting the slopes with a richer palette than the earlier meadows.

Half a mile from the Van Trump Park Trail junction, we came to a second, signed junction for Mildred Point; we took the right fork at the junction for the trail to Mildred Point. I was surprised that this trail was marked at all: the path felt unmaintained at times as it embarked on a steep, direct climb along a ridge, ascending 600 feet in just under half a mile. Along the way, we passed through even more beautiful wildflower meadows, including a huge, open slope on the longest, steepest hill of the ascent that was carpeted with valerian and tiger lilies. A stretch of trail on this hill was both steep and sandy, making footing very difficult on the way up; the trail to Mildred Point is substantially more difficult than anything seen on the hike into Comet Falls and Van Trump Park.

Wildflowers in the meadows along the way to Mildred Point

Our rewards at the top of the hill were a view to the south of the full Tatoosh Range through the haze. On a clear day, both Mount St. Helens and Mount Adams should be visible from this point; the view was impressive even without the distant volcanoes.

Hazy Tatoosh Range from trail to Mildred Point

The trail meandered through a final, flat meadow, passing a small remaining snowpatch before going up a slight incline to come to Mildred Point. Mildred Point is a small promontory above the canyon of Kautz Creek, which has carved a dramatic and unstable canyon into the volcanic rock on the slopes of Tahoma. The Kautz Glacier was visible at the head of this barren landscape and Point Success rose above it all.

View of the Kautz Creek Valley from Mildred Point

Comet Falls is remarkable; the rest of this hike is beautiful but perhaps not unique, although Mildred Point is quite stunning. I did find this to be an enjoyable hike despite the limited visibility due to wildfire haze; Mount Rainier was close enough that it was visible despite the haze and neither the wildflowers in Van Trump Park nor Comet Falls were impacted by the smoky skies.

Snowgrass Flat and Old Snowy Mountain

Snowgrass Flat

15 miles round trip, 3500 feet elevation gain (10 miles, 1700 feet to Snowgrass Flat)

Difficulty: Strenuous (Moderate to Snowgrass Flat)
Access: Good gravel road to trailhead, Northwest Forest Pass required

The journey through the wildflower meadows of Snowgrass Flat along the Pacific Crest Trail to the summit of Old Snowy Mountain is among the highlights of hiking in the state of Washington. Each July and August, Snowgrass Flat delivers one of the most stunning wildflower displays in the Cascades; Old Snowy Mountain is a lofty, 7900-foot peak with expansive views of the volcanoes of the South Cascades and of the craggy Goat Rocks. The route to the summit of Old Snowy Mountain requires a bit of Class 2 scrambling but is fairly straightforward, making this one of the highest summits in the state that is reasonably accessible to most fit hikers.

Both Snowgrass Flat and Old Snowy Mountain can be day hiking destinations, although Old Snowy Mountain makes for a long, tough day of hiking. However, the Goat Rocks is substantially more popular for backpacking: there's plenty of campsites in Snowgrass Flat and the area is a long enough drive from any city that most hikers prefer to stay the night in the mountains. I did Old Snowy Mountain as a day hike and ended up spending 6.5 hours driving and 9 hours hiking in a single day.

I took Highway 410 from Enumclaw to reach the trailhead, though hikers from Seattle can also access the area via Highway 161 from Puyallup. I followed 410 southeast from Enumclaw into Mount Rainier National Park, then followed Highway 123 south out of the park to its junction with US 12; I followed US 12 west two miles past Packwood to the turnoff for Forest Service Road 21. NF-21 was an unpaved but well-maintained gravel road with washboarding but few potholes; I followed it southeast 15 miles to the turnoff for Chambers Lake and the Snowgrass Trailhead, where I made a left onto the road for the Snowgrass Trailhead; I followed signs for the Snowgrass Trailhead, passing branch points leading towards Chamber Lake and the Berry Patch Trailhead. The last 2 miles of gravel road were a little rougher with a number of potholes, but this road should still be manageable without too much issue for most cars. When I reached the trailhead at 8 on a Sunday morning, there were already well over 50 cars parked there, presumably mostly overnight hikers. I filled out a mandatory self-issue Goat Rocks wilderness permit before heading out.

From the Snowgrass Trailhead, a connector trail led 200 meters past a sign for the Goat Rocks Wilderness to Snowgrass Trail No. 96; at the junction, I took the right fork, which led towards the flat (the left fork goes to stock access at the Berry Patch Trailhead). The first mile and a half of the hike had minimal net elevation gain, generally following the contour lines along the lower part of the southeast slopes of Goat Ridge (the trail was not completely flat, with short sections of ups and downs). At a mile and a half, the trail had a mild sustained descent to a bridge crossing over Goat Creek.

Bridge over Goat Creek

After crossing the creek, the trail continued through fairly flat terrain for another half mile before starting a gradual ascent with switchbacks. The trail remained in the forest with no views, but about a mile and a half past the bridge, wildflowers- specifically, lupine and arnica- began lining the trail. At two miles from the bridge (3.5 from the trailhead), I came to the junction between the Snowgrass Trail and the Snowgrass Bypass Trail No. 97; I continued straight on the Snowgrass Trail.

Wildflowers along the ascent on the Snowgrass Trail

After another two-thirds of a mile of steady climbing, the trail came to a junction with the Lily Basin Trail, which led off towards the left to Goat Lake and Goat Ridge. Here, the trail broke out into a clearing for the first time, with a wildflower appetizer teasing at the meadows to come further up. I stayed on the Snowgrass Trail through this junction; the trail reentered the trail briefly as it continued to climb but began emerging into clearings more and more frequently. A few remaining avalanche lilies bloomed near the trail, although it was clear that they were past peak. Valerian, beargrass, columbine, and paintbrush were blooming profusely.

A few minutes later, the trail entered Snowgrass Flat, an absolutely magnificent, verdant subalpine meadow dotted with innumerable flowers. Ahead me rose the rugged crest of the Goat Rocks; to the south and southwest stood massive Mount Adams and topless Mount St. Helens. Magenta paintbrush, heather, and western anemone seedheads added splashes of color to the meadows.

Entering Snowgrass Flat

Arrival at Snowgrass Flat

Two-thirds of a mile from the Lily Basin Trail junction- and 4.8 miles from the trailhead- I came to the end of the Snowgrass Trail at its junction with the Pacific Crest Trail in the heart of the meadows of Snowgrass Flat. I was at a loss for words: a sea of wildflowers stretched from where I stood to the foot of the high peaks of the Goat Rocks. This is surely among the greatest wildflower meadows of the Northwest.

Old Snowy Mountain rises above Snowgrass Flat

For day hikers heading just to the flat, this is the end of the hike; it's possible to wander around the meadow along the PCT or to make a loop by taking the PCT south to the Snowgrass bypass and then taking the bypass trail back to the Snowgrass Trail, but the highlight of the Flat itself is undoubtedly this huge meadow at the junction of the two trails. Bugs had not been too bad on the hike up but were a little annoying once I was at the meadow.

After picking my jaw up from the ground, I continued on my way towards Old Snowy Mountain, turning left and heading north at the junction with the PCT. The abundant wildflowers continued, stretching out in all directions as I enjoyed the views of the Goat Rocks and the sister volcanoes of Adams and St. Helens. It seemed that I may have been just slightly past peak with the flowers- although paintbrush was blooming like crazy, I observed many lupine with hairy seedpods that had finished blooming, so I might have been a little late for the lupine.

Ives Peak at Snowgrass Flat

Mount St. Helens from Snowgrass Flat

Mount Adams at Snowgrass

As I hiked northward and the PCT climbed steadily, the meadows began to fade into an alpine landscape of snow and rock. Soon, flowers were limited to small patches of heather, lupine, or paintbrush. Views to the north also began opening up, hitting a climax when the trail made a right angle turn onto the north side of Old Snowy Mountain, opening up a stunning view to the north of Goat Ridge and Mount Rainier. The trail then traversed a sizable snowfield; a partially frozen pond of snowmelt at the base of the snowfield was a brilliant blue. From this vantage point, I could see all the way across to Goat Lake at the base of Hawkeye Point on Goat Ridge; although the flowers at Snowgrass were already in full bloom, the waters of Goat Lake still appeared to be solidly frozen.

Goat Ridge and Rainier

After crossing the large snowfield, the PCT came to the northwest ridge of Old Snowy Mountain, which offered a lofty viewpoint over the valley of Lake Creek and the remnants of the Packwood Glacier. Climate change has reduced the Packwood Glacier to essentially a large snowfield; this it the source of the creek that feeds Packwood Lake. Here, about one and a half miles past the Snowgrass Trail Junction, the PCT split into two, with the main PCT traversing the crumbling north slopes of Old Snowy Mountain above and on the Packwood Glacier and the PCT alternate route climbing further up the ridge of Old Snowy. I followed the right fork for the PCT alternate route and Old Snowy.

The trail pushed steeply upward towards the north shoulder of Old Snowy up a trail of sharp, loose rocks. The Goat Rocks are the remnants of an extinct stratovolcano, once a Cascade sister to Rainier, Adams, and St. Helens; since cessation of volcanic activity, erosion has exposed the harder underlying rock in the volcano as the crest of Goat Rocks. The remaining rock is loose and crumbly, making hiking and scrambling in the Goat Rock a bit unpleasant.

A half mile of hard uphill past the PCT alternate junction, I reach the zenith of the Pacific Crest Trail in Washington, the highest point of the 500 miles of the PCT in Washington at about 7600 feet. From here, the PCT led to the left down the jagged north ridge of Old Snowy, while an unmarked but clearly visible path led south along the ridge to the summit. From this junction, I looked down to the east on the snows of the McCall Glacier, which was larger and in better shape than the Packwood Glacier.

Final scramble up Old Snowy

The final stretch of trail was a steep uphill scramble along the north ridge of Old Snowy. The path was generally easy to follow but it's important to note that this is more of a climber's path than a leisurely hiking trail: rocks were loose and the grade was often very steep. The crux of the route was a ten foot wall that required a bit of Class 2 scrambling just short of the summit.

Crux of the route- a bit of Class 2 scrambling

At the summit, views were astonishing. While climbing Old Snowy isn't easy, it's also probably one of the easier summits of its height (7900 feet) in the state. The 360-degree view was awesome both in the quality of the scenery and in the scope of the viewshed. The most apparent, in-your-face aspect of the view was the crest of the Goat Rocks, with Ives Peak and Gilbert Peak rising steeply above the McCall and Conrad Glaciers.

Gilbert and Ives Peaks and the McCall Glacier from Old Snowy

The view to the north was dominated by Mount Rainier, which rose like a god above all the surrounding Cascades. This view is more or less the same as the view at Paradise, with the Nisqually Glacier cascading down the south face of the mountain. One of the most satisfying aspects of this view was the clear visibility of the meadows at Paradise and the Muir Snowfield, allowing me to see fully the route from Paradise up to Camp Muir. Gibraltar Rock, which seems so massive when viewed at the foot of the mountain, was here flattened out to an almost unnoticeable rock feature, as were the typically notable Cathedral Rocks. The Cowlitz and Ingraham Glaciers were also clearly identifiable from this angle and Point Success and Liberty Cap were distinguishable as two separate summits.

Rainier from Old Snowy

The views to the south and southwest encompassed Snowgrass Flat, from which I had ascended, and the generally forested South Cascades from which Mount Adams and Mount St. Helens rose up. The Mount Margaret/Coldwater Peak cluster of peaks north of St. Helens stuck out. To the east I could see all the way out to the Willapa Hills near the Pacific; to the northeast, High Rock and the Tatoosh Range rose behind the closer peaks of Goat Ridge. To the north, I spotted Chimney Rock and Summit Chief, Glacier Peak, and Mount Stuart to the right of Rainier. I could also see the Wenatchee Mountains form the northern boundary of Kittitas Valley, although I couldn't see Ellensburg, and I spotted the parallel dry desert ridges that define the landscape around Yakima. To the south, I looked past the peaks of the Goat Rocks and could see all the way into the Oregon desert.

Adams, St. Helens, and Snowgrass Flat from Old Snowy

Goat Ridge

Although I encountered plenty of people on the trail, I had the summit to myself for about half an hour before another group arrived; while Snowgrass Flat is popular and Old Snowy sees a good number of visitors, the summit was by no means crowded. It seems, for the most part, that the secret that is the Goat Rocks, while short of a true secret, has not fully gotten out yet.

I retraced my steps to the trailhead but made two detours on the way back. The first I don't recommend: rather than taking the PCT alternate route down from Old Snowy the way I came up, I decided to make a small loop by descending the other leg of the PCT alternate route down the north ridge of Old Snowy, then I returned by traversing above the Packwood Glacier on the principal PCT. While the scenery was wonderful and gave me a glimpse of the PCT to the north, which followed an open ridgeline and looked spectacular, there are no new views and this detour added about half a mile hiking with a hundred feet of elevation gain (this is not accounted for in the hike description at the start of the post). The other detour was more enjoyable: once I returned to the PCT-Snowgrass Trail junction at Snowgrass Flat, I returned by taking the PCT south another mile to the Snowgrass Bypass Trail No. 97 and then followed the bypass trail a mile back to the main Snowgrass Trail. The additional mile along the PCT delivered more meadows, plenty of blooming flowers, and many good views of Mount Adams and the crest of the Goat Rocks.

Views of the Goat Rocks along the PCT in Snowgrass Flat