Ozette Lake

My wife and I walked a half-mile trail along the hill above Elwha Campground (illegally taking our pups*). We wanted to take a six-mile loop after breakfast, but by the time our pals rose from bed, ate, and we had walked our dogs, the morning disappeared. We wanted to make Neah Bay with enough time to explore the northwestern most tip of the United States.

Halfway along our western route on Highway 101, we ran into a road construction delay, Ten miles later, turning onto Highway 113, we ran into three more road delays. By the time we reached highway 112, we decided that we did not have enough time to reach Neah Bay and explore all that we wanted, so we opted for an early camping destination.

We took the Ozette Lake Campground turnoff, and within a mile began to wonder whether we had made a mistake with our choice of destination. The road roughed up our tires, and the never-ending tight bends and slow turns churned our stomachs. We discussed turning back to look for somewhere else to park our motorhomes for the night, but a big body of water suddenly gleamed like a jewel through the trees. We were back in Olympic National Park.

The campground, not modern, yet not primitive, was clean and roomy. Navigating the grounds was like walking through a park, and we found a flat site that accommodated both motorhomes.

Within fifteen minutes after our arrival, our friends were swimming in the cold waters of Ozette Lake. My wife and I chatted with kayakers, fishermen, and campers from as far away as Norway, Texas, and Nevada.

After the swim, we took the three-mile walk through a hemlock forest. The path, most of the way, was a “boardwalk” made of planks cut from driftwood. The novelty of the path and the beauty of the forest kept us from realizing we had walked for fifty minutes to reach the Pacific Ocean.

Coming out of the trees, the ocean vista was nothing we expected. Clusters of sea stacks rose out of the Pacific. Clusters of rock pads lined the shoreline, just twenty feet beyond the water’s edge. Several seal lions hunted for food just fifty yards out, and several whale spouts billowed from the water not much farther away. Above us, two bald eagles circled for several minutes to scan the beach activity.

Though tired, we did not complain about the fifty-minute walk back to camp.

We had no idea what we would learn about the lake on the morrow.

*—Unlike parks in Oregon, dogs are not allowed on the trails of National Parks in Washington.