John and I set out to the Olympics on a wet and cool day. It was about 51F and drizzling pretty consistently. Standard weather for Washington this time of year. On the drive up to the trail head, the wet gravel causes the trucks back tires to slide out from under a few times. This is the first time we think it was good that the wives and kids did not come along as neither would have liked that or the fact that steep drop offs exist to one side or the other most of the way without guardrails.
We reach the trail head and passed by some empty camp sites including three sided open cabins. The rain was actually quite tolerable when under the woods. At first, the trail was very easy to traverse; even easier than our Green Mountain expeditions. Almost by accident, we found a cave on the side of a cliff and we climbed up the hillside only to find that a path very smoothly reached the mouth from only about a hundred feet further down the trail. After joking a bit about bears, we probed the abandoned mine using flashlights that we both remembered to bring this time. Turned out that the mine only extended about 100ft into the cliff side and then ended abruptly. We used the shelter to take a break and snack a bit. Our friend John Green told us about an abandoned mine, but this didn't look like the one he had described.
A mile or so further down the trail, we came to a fork in Copper Creek. Now this is where we should have turned left to get to the mine and downed bomber we were looking for. Instead, we turned right toward Buckhorn Lake. The trail made a couple switchbacks and quickly began to gain altitude and rose above the treeline. We were suddenly rewarded with breathtaking views of the opposing ridge and Iron and Buckhorn Mountains. Snow had already graced a few of the peaks on the mountains, maybe only 1000ft above where we were standing or so. As we progressed across the ridge, John pointed out a doe and her fawn that were traipsing through the clearing below us. We kept expecting to stumble across the bomber at any moment as the terrain resembled that of John's photos.
Right about this time, I had my first bit of water penetrate my new boots. Additionally, I was wearing jeans that were nearly soaked through by this point and we were heading so much higher, and as such much cooler. John was also beginning to feel the cold and wet. We were figuring there was less than a mile to the lake when we came around a bend and were exposed to some ridiculous winds. Suddenly, my exposed hands and face were frozen. I suggested we call it a day and turn around. John didn't even wait for me to finish to respond. We quickly about face and start heading back.
What happened next was one of the scariest things that has ever happened to me. John stopped and looked up the cliff side, which caused me to recognize that I had heard some noise higher up. I turned to where he was looking and I saw nothing more than what looked like smoke rising from an escarpment above us. For a moment I simply assumed we were not alone on the ridge as we had previously thought. Instead a dark form quickly flashed above the rising "smoke" and John simply yelled "ROCK!!!" while pointing in the direction we had just came from. We both began running the that direction and when we thought we were clear of its path, turned upward to confirm. Instead, we learned that at every bounce, the rock changed direction and had brought along some of its friends along the way. We darted back in our original trajectory as fast as we could. I could hear smaller stones striking the path behind me and looked ahead just in time to shout "LOOKOUT" as a bowling ball sized rock bounce immediately before hitting John and flying about ten feet above his head. When we found ourselves safe, we caught our breath and tried to calm ourselves.
Naturally, the topic of discussion for the remainder of our descent was the rockslide and what one of us could and should have done in the event of the worst. One thing we both need to consider for the future is a satellite messenger to send a distress signal quickly in the wilderness.
When we reach the creekbed again, there were some large boulders that had clearly been used by many hikers as a campsite. Some metal scraps were strewn about, some apparently used as cooking surfaces. It was here that we decided to try our hand at building a small fire. We found a boulder that provided some minimal shelter from the increasing rain and gathered some kindling. We had hoped to get some practice at starting a fire in less than ideal conditions and gain a little warmth. Unfortunately, we were not very successful; although, we were greeted by a chipmunk who was curious.
We headed back to the truck to warm up. We ran into a couple guys, told them about the smaller mine we found, asked them about the larger mine and plane, and that is when we discovered that we should have turned left instead of right. The rest of the trip was quite uneventful and we met up with the girls for dinner.
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