There Used to Be a Road

by John Woolley

Hiking the former Dosewallips Road to Dose Falls is a wonderful experience. White-flowering Pacific Dogwood lit up both sides of our walk, along with whites of Saskatoon, also in flower. The Dose River was running full on this 7th day of May. Deep green-blue waters along with churning white rapids are readily seen from the old road walk, making this a special opportunity to be close to the flowing life waters of the Olympic Mountains.

Of course, seeing a bobcat was a highlight. The 14-inch tawny little guy was scrambling back up a slope along the way—a young male, bold, before its time said my hiking companion. Years ago Rick Darnell and I were leading a tour of the washout and were fortunate to see a very dark phase bobcat as we reached the old road, after hiking the up-and-over access trail. This bobcat was not small; we saw it just up river from the 60-foot scarred slope that is the Dose washout.

Herb Robert, unfortunately, is spreading from the washout onto the route into Olympic National Park. This geranium-like nonnative plant is running along the old roadside until it encounters prolific white Miner’s Lettuce, a native species. I wonder how much ground that Herb Robert will gain the next time I’m around. Or, if you are inclined like we were, you pull the Herb Robert as you walk back towards the trailhead.

We saw only eight people and two dogs on this good weather Wednesday. It is not uncommon to find 60 vehicles struggling to park at roads’ end on weekends. No facilities or formal parking exists, since the Forest Service has not released their Record of Decision on fixing the Dose Road, as this is not a simple issue. A fix is extremely difficult to design and expensive to implement. From an ecologically sound perspective, regard for salmon would end any intentions to repair. But maintaining traditional access to the Park is more the way our engineering minds work, rather than letting Nature limit our intrusion into wilderness.

Cavalierly not bringing the detailed notes of cross-country access to a long-ruined line cabin on the Park/Forest boundary was a classic error. I was stunned to see the ravages of a forest fire, rather obscuring my memorized route to the Brokenfinger jump-off site. A very old stock trail from years ago used to access a line cabin, including water piping along the trail from Miners Creek, a remnant bedstead, a bit of chimney and ample evidence of coffee drinking. From here a trail bridge crossed a deep chasm of the river to the south side and Brokenfinger Creek. Bridge supports remain in place, but any bridge is long gone, and would certainly have been a thrill to cross whether on horse or hiking.

Neither of us was ready this day to visit the burn area with so many Pick-up Stix trees to navigate over, around and under. I couldn’t clearly see the knoll that indicated the line location (from a 2006 visit) and was confused whether we should leave the road trail at Elk Creek or Bull Elk Creek, first of the two formally bridged. Lesson learned for next time?

North from Elk Creek, a very old road climbed steeply to a mining claim inholding. Wooden remnants and some metal parts remain on this very steep, southern exposure. I visited the site with three locals who were scrounging for anything of value or interest, including cutting Vine Maple for instruments. One man carried loppers to clip branches ahead of him. The wooden mine remnants are few and the abandoned mine is shrouded with rock. Tough to explore then, now the route is barely discernible. I did see a marten that day by the river when I was taking a sit-down. Martens are increasingly uncommon and I felt fortunate to watch it poke into every possibility along the river bank.

We descended the east end of the slope burn to a number of majestic Douglas-firs, most about five feet in diameter, some very much blackened by the low-burning fire. The small creek we followed was lush with fresh spring greens, Calypso orchids, Sitka Valeria, and yellow violets before it plunged into the Dose Chasm. The few-hundred-foot climb back up took a concentrated effort, as thigh muscles clearly were not yet ready for steep mountain slopes.

We did hike on the old road to Dose Falls, beyond the incredibly severe Mt. Constance Trail. Waterfall views were picturesque over the massive pieces of rock. If the old Dosewallips Road looked irreparable before, the segment approaching the falls indicates how unwise it was to build a road in the first place. When the road was passable in the last century, stock trucks seldom unloaded at Muscott Flat, the end of the 4.5 miles in, as they felt it more reasonable to unload the stock before the falls as the old road became severe. The Dose Road is now a tumble of boulders, making bicycle riding less than fun.

A Pileated Woodpecker gave us its laughing loud call as it noted our hiking start and end.