http://seattlepi.nwsource.com/getaways/290594_hike02.html
http://www.peakware.com/areas.html?a=362
You probably can count them on the fingers of one hand now, these last golden hikes before winter sets in. Few hiker-friendly summits are within reach in November, but one possibility is Mount Ellinor (5,944 feet). Though there's a feel of ice in the wind and the meadows are turning brown, Mount Ellinor is still accessible because there are two approaches. But before setting out, be sure to call the Hood Canal ranger station for the latest conditions.
The most direct is from the upper trailhead. The other begins from the lower trailhead at 2,800 feet. Though this second approach increases mileage and gain, hikers may opt to start from the lower trailhead and hike until snow, wind or treacherous conditions make a return to the car more enticing than the views.Mount Ellinor also a is popular winter climb. Mountaineers equipped with ice axes use the "winter route" via "The Chute," a rocky gully. When enough snow has accumulated to cover the rocks, climbers make a fast descent with a 1,000-foot glissade, a controlled slide using their ice axes as brakes.
As we turned off U.S. Route 101 at Hoodsport, we noticed an "Open" sign at the complex that once served as the Hoodsport Ranger Station and had to stop. Had the Hoodsport Ranger Station been resurrected? Well, sort of. It operates now as the Hood Canal Visitor Information Center, run by the Shelton Chamber of Commerce, staffed by volunteers. We bought maps and picked up trail descriptions and updates on road and trail conditions.
Various guidebooks, maps, signs and trail descriptions do not agree, but Mount Ellinor is about four miles round trip with an elevation gain of 2,450 feet. We chose the upper route as days are growing short and we wanted to enjoy being on the mountain without feeling pressed for time. The trail gets down to work immediately as it climbs a forested ridge through western hemlocks, Douglas firs and flowers gone to seed.
En route we challenged ourselves by trying to identify flowers by their seedpods and fading leaves. Vanilla leaf, beargrass, lupine and fireweed were easy enough -- the louseworts were more of a challenge as only their rusty flower stalks remained. Only a few blue-violet harebells are holding out to the bitter end.
In about .3 mile we came to a junction where hikers can descend to the lower trailhead or to Big Creek Camp, 4.7 miles. We stayed on the main trail, following signs for the summer route. The trail is steep but in good condition with a soft cushion of evergreen needles until it breaks out into meadows. Several rustic benches are placed at intervals for hikers to rest or enjoy views.
At the first meadow we checked out an outcropping with a view of Lake Cushman and read a plaque honoring volunteers Frank Heuston and Frank Maranville, who devoted more than 17 years with the Mount Rose Trail Crew and the Forest Service while upgrading trails in the region. Their work has made the trail safer and more family friendly, a delight with stone steps creating a literal stairway to the summit as it climbs steep, rugged terrain.
Mount Washington came into view as we climbed. Below, Lake Cushman danced in the October sunlight with dark swirls of water creating abstract designs on the surface. It may be hard to believe, but an old-growth forest once stood where the lake is today.
The lake formed during the ice age when a glacier cut into the valley of the North Fork Skokomish River and an ice sheet pushed against the mountains, a process that dammed the river and formed the lake. The lake was small but enlarged in the 1920s when a dam was built on the North Fork below the lake.Though some folks tell me I'm dreaming, I swear that when I was very small my father rowed my mother and me across the lake. The water was as clear as glass and I remember trees under the water and how strange and unsettling it felt to float above a drowned forest.
Despite the haze, there were views of Mount St. Helens, Mount Adams, Mount Rainier and Mount Baker as we climbed. A long rising traverse crosses a steep meadow and in places steel netting has been put in place to hold down loose rocks that cling to vertiginous slopes above.
After what felt like a lot of effort, Ellinor still looked mighty far away but switchbacks made the work easier and soon the summit came into view. You may want trekking poles as the final pitch is steep and eroded but safe enough if you keep your eye on the trail -- take in the views when you get to the top. Reconsider if it's icy.
Though some guidebooks describe the last pitch as a scramble, we found it to be just a rocky path unless you want to clamber to the highest pinnacle. The summit offers several such aeries and also sheltered nooks out of the wind. Depending on where you are positioned, you'll enjoy views of Mount Olympus, Mount Stone, Mount Pershing and Mount Washington.
There were several other hikers on the summit, including Boy Scouts and families with small children. It's inspiring to see children standing proudly on a summit they've climbed on their own steam, perhaps their first. One young man sat alone on a pinnacle reading or writing in a journal, oblivious to the presence of others on the mountain. I walked behind the summit rocks for a peek at Ellinor Lake, bound by meadows and off-limits to those without cross-country hiking skills.
Though we had worked up a sweat, the wind was cold enough that soon we were pulling out wool hats and gloves. We lingered awhile, hoping to see the mountain goats that frequent these peaks. Alas, they did not appear, but a little excitement ensued when a small plane swooped over the summit -- we all waved at the pilot.
As we descended, more hikers were streaming their way to the top, including a young couple carrying an infant. We weren't the only ones seizing the day, stealing yet another hike from a season that seemed reluctant to give way to winter.
