Olympic Peninsula – Dungeness Spit / Hurricane Ridge

We left Mount Rainier for the Olympic Peninsula before noon Monday. We were in between two campgrounds for our three night stay. One was in the Olympic National Park and named the Hoh Rainforest Campground. The other was a county park (Dungeness Spit Recreation Area - http://www.clallam.net/CountyParks/html/parks_dungeness.htm ) on the north end of the Peninsula on the coast. The convincing detail for Dungeness is that it is in the rain shadow of mount Olympus and therefore only receives 15 inches of rain a year. We are holding up well but didn’t want to sit in the rain for three days (and it has a shower).

We set up camp and checked out the spit – a spit is a coastal formation like a natural peir and the Dungeness Spit happens to be the longest one on the planet – then watched the sunset over the mountains of British Columbia across the straight of Juan de Fuca.

Olympic National Park is massive – and the access points are strewn around the perimeter so it is difficult to see much of it from one point. On Tuesday morning, we drove to Hurricane Ridge and asked about a trail that caught our attention in our Washington Trail book. De ja vu, the access road to the trailhead is still closed for winter – but the ranger recommended a similar trail so we took him up on it.

The trail was named ‘switchback trail’ and it lived up to its name. We started at 4300 feet and within 1 ½ miles had ascended to 6000 feet.

From the ridge, we could see north out over the straight into BC and south into the peaks of the Olympic Mountains. Quite a view.

We continued on the ridge for a couple miles. When we turned back four mountain goats came over the ridge on the trail, two adults and two babies. Without a working knowledge of mountain goat behavior or disposition, we surmised that the presence of the babies might bring out the worst traits in their personality. We climbed up out of their way assuming they would bolt when they caught wind of my stench, but they continued staring at us indicating we should make way. I am carrying an aerosol can of ‘bear-pepper-spray’ mainly for psychological peace of mind, but as they approached I pulled this can out and removed the safety. They walked directly below us on the trail and headed off over the ridge. One of the goats was wearing a collar with a tag on it.

We walked back down to the car and then went to the visitor center. I told one of the rangers about the goats and he pointed out a memo taped to the desk that explained the aggressive nature of one of the resident goats – and that it could be identified by the yellow collar. The ranger also said that it is indeed a rare occurrence to see the mountain goats on the trail.

We ate lunch amongst a herd of uncomfortably familiar deer. One ate some steamed rice out of a Japanese girl’s hand. Another tried to stomp deefur. I threw a stick at it. Then we went back to the spit.