Olympic National Park

When it comes to National Parks, Olympic in Washington State is a monster. At over one million acres, it is bigger than the entire state of Rhode Island, more vast than Switzerland, imagine The Mall of America x 100, now that's a lot of shopping. This place is massive. The glorious Mount Olympus is the heart and soul of this park, its divine majesty produces rain forests, waterfalls, beaches, massive trees, hot springs, meandering pools flowing into peaceful lakes and mighty rivers. It boasts the largest Sitka Spruce in the world, at almost sixty feet in diameter, the dignified old gal is over 1000 years of age and looks every bit of it.

Iridescent chartreuse moss blankets trees, limbs jut out from trunks bringing to mind the soft velveted antlers of a gentle deer. In the Sol Duc region legend claims the glowing moss is actually dragon skin lost during battle, scattered throughout the dense forest. When the dragons retreated, their salty hot tears created sulphury pools of Hot Springs. Native Americans can sure spin a tale, I'm a believer.

Hiking through soaring pines, the aroma sharp and refreshing, a soothing calm that is strangely unsettling. Leaves rustle, a twig snaps, the wind drifts foreboding through the trees. Folk lore alleges Sasquatch frequents these woods, sure I've seen him at the local coffee shop and at Walmart but don't necessarily want to run into the hairy beast nose to nose (or nose to knee) in the wilderness. We move on, but constantly glance back over my shoulder, wary.

Continuing along the trail, first the faint whoosh of bubbling water, howling of a distant freight train, then louder thunderous pounding on the mountain side, beyond a huge cypress, we witness the pure grandeur of Mother Nature. A roaring torrent of water crashing, the turbulent icy flood slaps against my face, a deafening rumble exploding over the cliff, peering down to see foaming boiling rapids below. Limbs shaky, I back away from the edge. What a rush.  

Hurricane Hill. We survived the cross country trek from Iowa to Washington mostly unscathed, definitely not afraid of a Hurricane. We fasten seatbelts and begin the slow, snaky assent to the summit. Forests engulf the old Dodge, we glimpse down steep cliffs, no guard rail to protect us, a subtle warning, enjoy the beauty of this place but respect the mountain. Pay attention. We climb over 5000 feet, temperatures drop, drizzly rain saturates the road, pockets of fine powder grow into small drifts then towering solid banks of snow, we pass through a tunnel of white. The mountain top is frigid, a mystic vapor floats over the range below. We snap a few photos before the haze transforms into thicker, frosty fog and suddenly where once we saw mountains, gorges and forest, we see nothing but the haunting mist. Cautiously we maneuver down that twisted mountain path emerging finally from the mysterious fog.  

From forest green, lucious waterfalls and pristine beaches, through sparkling lakes, raging rivers, atop tremendous mountains and into gaping canyons, Olympic National Park captures you for a spell and takes you on a magical, daring adventure. Linger any longer and you may never leave. Sasquatch will make sure of it.