On The Road – Kabecoo – The Skyline Trail, Olympic National Park

Mt. Zindorf dominated the view for much of the trail, so I started with this photo, even though it wasn’t until the third day of walking that Zindorf appeared. But I liked the photo even if the journey started earlier, and at a lower elevation….

The first day is spent climbing through typical Pacific Northwest woods: everything from maidenhair ferns to towering firs and cedars. Downed trees often remain undisturbed for a few years and each hiker must find a way around or over them. Or under, in rare cases. I could easily walk under this fallen tree without bending over!

One reward for the tired hiker, especially one who wants a short break from climbing, is the ripe huckleberry. I was fortunate to find both blue and black varieties along much of the trail and ate them several times each day.

The berries also draw the attention of black bears. Purple bear scat is a sure sign that ripe berries are near. If the scat is still warm, it’s a sign of something else.

There is not much trail maintenance along these more remote routes. This “bridge” crossed a deep channel through a boggy area. It’s possible that a careless hiker could step on the wrong part of a board, have the other end fly up and whack them, and do a faceplant in the grasses on the other side. I mean, it’s possible. So I’ve heard.

Most hikers reach Kimta basin on day 2, at the end of a waterless five mile ridge-top trail. When we entered the basin in 1986 we took our last water, made Tang, and carefully poured it over cups of snow.

The picture is from that hike. My hiking partner Mr. B. heads out across the basin, winding his way past two cairns with snow poles. The cairns guided us much of the time.

Robert Wood, a local author, wrote about Kimta basin: “This is a country of wide horizons, of far-flung vistas to distant peaks, of quiet solitude, where one can hear the sounds of nature — the piercing whistles of marmots; the deep purring of the creeks below; the wind sighing in the subalpine firs on the ridges, and the bugling of elk in cul-de-sacs unvisited by man.” Who could resist?

In 2012 I unknowingly took the same picture but without Mr. B as he was busy lollygagging elsewhere. The cairns remained, pole-less, but hikers had worn a path. That path is now evident for much of the route, a welcome change particularly when hiking solo.

In 2008 the trail through Kimta basin was still partially covered by snow in early September. Of course, snow is made for sliding. Bears seem to enjoy this as well. From a distance of a few hundred yards, I watched an older bear slide down a small snowfield that covered the trail, move off the snow just below the trail, slowly climb back to the top, and slide down again. As I got closer I began speaking to him, addressing him as Mr. Bear, as cross-species respect is always important.

He would watch me, I would advance, then he would slide down again. I waited until he was back at the top to begin crossing the snowfield, as otherwise he would be too close.

(These two bear photos are scans from hard copies. Back in the film years….)

But when I started to pick my way across the snowfield, he descended along its far side while I crossed below him. We got closer with each step. This got my heart moving even though he exhibited no threatening behavior, and it was far better than having him slide into me. A fortuitously placed huckleberry bush distracted him – have I mentioned how tasty those treats are? – so I scurried down the trail while he snacked and reclaimed the playground. No one would ever describe me as a rapid scurrier but circumstances seemed to call for it.

Over the years I’ve had three very close black bear encounters along this trail. Generally they are skittish creatures wanting nothing more than being allowed to graze all day in peace, take a few naps, maybe a swim. Seeing hikers is unfamiliar so they react by moving away, usually quite swiftly. Older bears tend to not run and I sympathize. When I have to pass near them, I try to be sure they know that I’m there by talking to them. When older bears see me before I see them, they will huff a few times to let me know I should consider moving along. It’s good advice.

The route in 2023 proved to be largely water-free, due mostly to low winter snowpack and a warm spring. I began searching for a campsite as soon as I entered Kimta basin, but I needed water. Previously reliable drainages were dry; snow was nowhere. About an hour before sunset, the trail crossed over briefly into the Queets River drainage to the west, and on the north side of a small ridge I saw the remains of what was once a huge snowfield. It was a rocky descent, there were footprints of elk and bear all around, and a fairly sketchy downhill next to the only flat place large enough for my tiny tent. It was perfect.

Mount Olympus was just north. It has five peaks, although I can rarely tell which ones they are. By crossing into the Queets basin I had my first unobstructed view, and I watched it change color with the…..