Much of the Olympics remained unexplored until the early part of the 20th century. Many summits and off piste routes were pioneered by ambitious Boy Scouts and "Hikemasters" (i.e., trek leaders) walking out of Camp Parsons, situated between the deltas of the Quilcene and Dosewallips rivers.
In 1987 I would join the Camp Parsons Staff, and within a few years would carry the Hikemaster moniker with a later generation of Boy Scouts keen on exploring the range's glaciers, slide alder, and talus.
In 1990 I'd start dating the Camp Director's daughter, a fellow staffer. She ran the trading post, had a perm, and seemed strangely attractive ... in a Boy Scout uniform.
In 1991 Stephanie and I would embark on our second Olympic mountain hike together - a trip up the Quinault River valley to Mount Anderson and the iconic (and now-endangered) Enchanted Valley Chalet. A little over a year later, we'd marry.
In 1998, our first son, Chase, was born. In 2004, he'd join Scouting. In 2011, he'd visit Camp Parsons for the first time. In 2013, he too, would explore the Olympics with some of his pals as part of the Camp Parsons high adventure program, and follow in the footsteps of Boy Scouts from Parsons who have been walking the Olympics for more than 90 years.
In late June of 2013, we'd take a group of Scouts from Bozeman, Montana to a trailhead near Forks, Washington, and begin a trek through the Olympic rainforest. This photo essay presents a few highlights from the trek and hopefully, captures the spirit of Scouting, and the Olympics, in an inspiring way.
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Where the Mountains Meet the Sea: Trekking the Olympic Range (Photo Essay)
Thanks for posting this. I quite enjoyed the writeup and the photos. It would have been nice to have been introduced to lightweight backpacking as a youth!
Is there a trade-in program where we can swap our old-school HA trainer for you?
I'm from Port Angeles, the principle town on the Olympic peninsula, and started out as a Scout as well, so this resonates with me a great deal. Those are great memories that still make me smile.
My troop didn't run an Eagle mill, or go to the council camps during the summer. What we did do was traverse the Olympics. We also abandoned tents early on, not only for weight but because the affordable ones simply couldn't keep you dry in the heavy rains of the shoulder seasons. It helped that our scoutmaster was a carpenter with ready access to visqueen and a grommet set from his Coast Guard days. There weren't many gear shops then, so resourcefulness was key. We even did MYOG snowshoes one season.
When the ultralight phenomenon came on the scene it was easy for me to embrace the idea of tarps and low-cut shoes, since I'd never know anything else. If anything, the emerging gear was a vast improvement in comfort, aside from any weight considerations. Coming from one of the wettest places in the lower 48, I can perhaps be forgiven for being reluctant to embrace sleeping bags made of down though.
I have no doubt that a young man will one day look back at a lifetime of exploration and point to his experience on this trip as his inspiration too.
What a great experience for those kids to have so early in life. What I remember about my scouting experience: exceedingly heavy gear transported to site via pickup, playboy mags on the scout bus, smoking cedar bark rolled in notebook paper, listening to Eddie Murphy's "Raw", and other such character building activities. We did occasionally manage to work in a day hike.
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