bailey

Bailey Range High Alpine Traverse

~ Olympic Mtns. Nat'l Park ~

July 22-26, 1992

Bailey Range © Ken James McLeod

"The attractions of the Bailey Range are varied, and they lure and seduce the dedicated backpacker. The mountains are quiet and peaceful, the stillness broken infrequently by the wind, the whistles of marmots, or the barking of coyotes. At times the peaks are awash in brilliant sunshine; more often, however, fog drifts across the ridges to create eerie patterns among the peaks and crags. Rock, snow, and ice dominate near the crest, but lower down the meadows shelter cold, blue lakes and brooks that flow from sun-cupped snowfields. Bees buzz in the heather, hawks soar overhead, and elk and bear roam the upland. This is the backbone of the wilderness Olympics, where from high vantage points the mountains appear to circle upon themselves, ridges and canyons extending for miles in every direction. It is perhaps the finest high country route in the Olympics, but the neophyte should not attempt it, leaving the challenge of the range to experienced wilderness travelers".........Robert L. Wood, Olympic Mtns.Trail Guide.

Early, on a July misty morning, Mark Boyle, Glen Lee, Ken McLeod set forth with heavy packs up the Soleduck (Solduc) River Trail headed for a high adventure of 5 days on the Bailey Range. Ever upward we trudged along the cascading river - a river of roar! Half the day later, we stopped for lunch above the Upper Soleduck Camp, then proceeded to climb the trail through heavy fog to near Hart Lake 4,750', 8.1 miles from roads end. It was now late afternoon and almost evening. Feeling intrepid, we continued on although our strength was beginning to wane. Soon, we found ourselves at High Divide, a crest trail that skirts the ridge between the Hoh and Soleduck Rivers, where we drew a bead on two possible camp sites further on: one at Cat Lake near Cat Creek or the other at Boston Charlie's Camp which was located along the Catwalk. The Catwalk, was a narrow precipitous spine of broken-angular rock where one could practice the Cheval, a butt maneuver certain mountain climbers do on steep ridges. Under our now straining loads, we entered a steep rocky area where the trail petered out more or less so to speak, and went literally straight up until we came to a flat open area with rocky outcrops. There, we made camp at about 5,400 feet and just above the Catwalk in view of Cat Peak. From here, it would be an all cross-country route. "Ah finally camp," I thought, even though it was not one of the beads we had set our sights on. "What a view!" someone said, as Mt. Olympus loomed impressively in our face through the shroud of clouds that held it mysteriously aloof from the rest of the world most of the time. And there was the vast Hoh River Valley below us socked in a long blanket of fog that stretched clear to the Pacific Ocean. We were now about 12 miles from roads end. Noodles were made for the evening meal and some "hotshots" of alcohol were had to warm us up our insides. Afterwards, we roamed the high rocky land above us for a bit, and gathered snow for water.

The next morning came all too soon and we were still fog bound. But we took on the Catwalk without holding back and it was all that it was cracked up to be . . . taking almost an hour to navigate it. Finally, we entered the Holy Land of acres upon acres of wildflowers growing in the steep gullies and meadows of Mt. Carrie 6,995 feet. Almost everywhere blooming profusely were avalanche lilies, daisies, monkeyflower, Indian paintbrush, and rare white lupine. There too, were goats and most fed unconcerned by our presence being there. We took photos of them and deer and grouse too, and wandered amid the heather most of the day. Then, near evening, we made camp at a site in a cleft of subalpine trees to seek shelter from the moister in the fog and the ever-present wind. This camp was at Eleven Bull Basin.

The next morning, it was decided upon to continue on to Cream Lake (Heart of the Oylmpics) with only day packs, explore that area, and then return to our temporary base camp. After breakfast we set out in clearer weather than the day before. The way route was faint, but with map and heads easterly, we succeeded along the ridge and then dropped into a wild basin thus attaining Cream Lake as our goal. Here, a large elk herd was seen feeding lazily about the lush grassy basin and we watched them for quite some time, before they ever noticed us, some were tremendous bulls. Cream Lake was an enchanting place though bug ridden, we took several photos from near the inlet with impressive peaks in the background . . . Glen captured a scene that later turned out to be very wonderful indeed. The day was now spent, we were now about 24 miles from roads end and tuckered, but in return to camp we searched for another lake on a bench below but never quite found it, although we viewed it from above on the ridge later and also photographed it. Near Camp, we found a cold-clear spring that poured directly out of mountain . . . its taste was something to behold and we filled our water jugs up with the crystalline tonic, water befit for the Gods! Back at camp, we decided to climb up high for our next camp, one with a better view.

Cream Lake © Glen Lee

We camped near Stephen Peak 6,400 feet, and named it "High Camps." The view there: Mt. Olympus 7,695 feet to the Southwest, Stephen Lake and Elwha Valley and the Straight of Juan De Fuca to the North, East to Puget Sound and of the surrounding mountains of Pulitzer, Queets, and Meany in the foreground . . . was perhaps the most outstanding view I have ever seen, coupled later with sun setting over the fog-covered Hoh River Valley. And below us on the steep flanks of Bailey (steeper than the back side of God's head) were bears roaming around, one sow with cubs was a real treat, wildlife was everywhere, and the sunset was something to behold! We were now traveled about 20 miles here and there from roads end.

The route from Cream Lake continues on up Ferry Basin and passes several small rock-bound blue lakes, then heads towards Dodwell-Rixon Pass where one descends steep snow slopes and heather, the way route down the snowfinger to Elwha basin, thence to Elwha Trail. Alternate routes can be taken via North on Long RidgeTrail, or Southwest towards Queets Basin, East out the North Fork Quinault River Trail if so desired.

The next morning at "High Camps" we explored some more taking photos and then packed up for the long trek back, planning to perhaps camp once more somewhere with a great view. Back to Mt. Carrie, then over the Catwalk again, and beyond to High Divide we traversed. Upon High Divide, we took refuge resting off the trail in the heather. Along came a college-aged woman Ranger who insisted on questioning us trying to determine where we intended to camp for the night. She became very peeved when she was unable to coheres an answer out of us! "We're not sure even if we are going to camp another night?" someone said. "Our team just came from Stephen Peak and we're taking a break right now," I stated. She then looked at us as if we were liars and said profoundly, "well you can't camp here on High Divide and all the campsites are taken at Seven Lakes Basin, as well as down at Deer Lake, so you must come down to the Soleduck and camp there now." I replied, "we're taking photos of the sunset and we may hike out in the dark." In disgust, she stomped off mumbling to herself as she went. What a nice Ranger we all thought?

Onward we proceeded taking more photos as we went past the moonscape of Seven Lakes Basin, thence onto Deer Lake where another young (good-looking) Ranger greeted us there. She asked us to please stay the night as she was rather lonely for company around here since nobody was camped or had been here for a while? But after a rather lengthy break, we trekked off down the mountain on the trail out. As darkness fell around us and the virgin forest enclosed us, we reached the goal of our vehicle about 9:30 PM very tired indeed...with our wandering, about 21 miles from Stephen Peak this day. In all, about 46 miles were traversed on our Olympic trek.

Later, in Port Angeles, we stopped for a well appreciated steak dinner before an unforgettable drive missing the Kingston-Edmonds Ferry, then onward to Winslow following a drunk in a pickup truck the entire way. At the ferry dock he and his woman passenger got it on so to speak, rocking & rolling making love in the cab. The whole landing knowing very well was what going on, we laughed and laughed about it.

It was near 2:00 AM when Mark dropped sleepy Glen and I off at Glen's house where I slept on his sofa. Mark however proceeded home to Renton still some ways to go . . . What A trip!

THE END

KJM

(McPilchuck)