My dad and I did a four-day trip on Lake Ozette, a large freshwater body in the northwest corner of Washington’s Olympic Peninsula.
Route map. Camping permits are available at the ranger station at the north end of the lake.
Lake Ozette is completely encompassed by the Olympic National Park. The bulk of the park is far inland, of course, protecting the Olympic Mountains, but there is a narrow finger of parkland that runs along the coast, and that finger encompasses Lake Ozette. The fringe of park is rather thin on the lake’s eastern shore, so clearcuts are visible in the surrounding hills, but at least the lake itself is free from commercial exploitation.
As a result of this federal protection—which activists won in the face of ferocious efforts by the National Park Service against protecting the lake in favor of timber interests—Lake Ozette is almost completely undeveloped.
There are two road-accessible launch points and a couple of cabins on parcels that predate the creation of the park, but the rest of the lake is wild, making for a beautiful wilderness experience. In March, dad and I had the whole thing to ourselves, just us and the animals the entire time.
It was a long drive from Seattle, so we spent the first night at the ranger station campground on the north end of the lake. This site is the jumping-off point for the Sand Point and Cape Alava hiking trails, both of which I know well from my childhood.
New to me, though, was a hike dad and I did the afternoon of the next day, when we walked down a lightly-used but still functional two-mile (3.2 km) trail to the coast. The trail ran through forest that had never been logged. Because of the harsh coastal ecology, these old trees weren’t as big as the ones in the inland areas of the park, but they were still beautiful, and they made me imagine a time before there were any people around at all.
Flooded sign at north end of lake. One of the beauties of an undammed lake is that the water level fluctuates naturally.
Launch at boat ramp. Even the enormous cockpit of the Folbot Yukon proved to be a tight fit for dad.
Kayaking southward down Lake Ozette. No other large lake in western Washington can match its unspoiled character.
Trail from Ericsons Bay to Sand Point. This trail is also called the “South Sand Point Trail.”
Skunk cabbage along South Sand Point Trail. It’s the rare kayaking trip that takes one so deep into an old-growth forest.
Dad hiking on South Sand Point Trai through old-growth cedar forest. Though rarely used, the trail was in good condition and easy to follow, unlike the overgrown Allens Bay Trail at the south end of Lake Ozette.
The Olympic coast was spectacular. The beaches were wide and sandy, and they stretched for miles. Headlands and sea stacks provided visual relief, and numerous, small, outflowing streams created obstacles that made the hiking feel adventurous.
Dad soaked his hiking boots crossing one of the streams on the beach, but this was kayak-camping, and that means we were carrying tons of gear. He was able to switch to his rubber boots for the remainder of the trip.
I crossed the same stream using a pile of driftwood logs, a slower, more arduous, but ultimately more comfortable approach to beach hiking. I suppose real outdoorsmen would have waded across barefoot, but on an overcast day, who wants cold, wet feet?
I’d spent many happy hours as a child sitting on top of the sea stack at Sand Point, so we made that our destination for our beach hike. At the top of the stack, we scanned the surrounding waters for sea otters, which often can be found in this area.
We didn’t spot any this time, but we did see black oystercatchers and harlequin ducks, two of my favorite bird species, so it was still a good wildlife experience. There were even a couple of mule deer grazing on the sea stack, so at least there was some mammal action for us, even if it wasn’t otters. Most importantly, it just felt good to lie on the grass and watch the waves and the clouds roll in.
Beach at south Sand Point. The beach is almost constantly shrouded in sea fog.
Dad walking up beach. If we’d brought packs with us to carry our gear, we might have camped on the beach for a combination lake-ocean camping excursion.
Sea stacks and foam at Sand Point. The foam consists of organic residue from plankton, evidence of the biological richness of the ocean.
Dad atop sea stack. The Sand Point sea stack is a great location from which to scout the beach north and south.
Back at the lake, we camped at the head of the old coast trail. Wedged into a small clearing, it wasn’t the most scenic campsite, but the next morning dawned so clear and still over the water that it turned even a mediocre campsite into a great one.
Our destination for the day was Tivoli Island at the south end of the lake. We started off in conditions of absolute glass, the best kind of paddling there is. Each paddle stroke carried us ten feet at a time.
A freshening southeast wind brought chop late in the morning, a pattern that we observed every day of the trip. The wind waves were under a foot this day, but on the last day, they were over a foot and whitecapping, a potential hazard.
There was a grade-A campsite at the north end of Tivoli Island. It was on a small, flat, grassy bank only a few feet above the water. We arrived just as the southeast wind brought the beginnings of rain.
Poor dad didn’t have much in the way of rain gear, but I had all kinds of Goretex fanciness to wear when it’s wet. I donned my gear to explore the interior of the island while he hid under a tarp.
Mostly what I found back there was Sitka spruce saplings that poked me with their needles, but I did manage to rustle up a couple of fox sparrows, one of my favorite sparrow species. It was fun to surprise them by popping up in places where humans weren’t normally supposed to be.
We spent most of the afternoon on Tivoli Island sitting under the tarps, drinking what seemed like gallons of earl grey and green tea and reading our books while listening to the rain. I like the sedentary parts of camping trips as much or more than the parts on the water.
The weather radio called for breezy conditions over the next two days, and we wanted to make sure we didn’t get stranded out there, even in so lovely a place as Tivoli Island. To hedge our bets, we paddled north the next morning to Ericsons Bay (Camp 4 on the map above), so that if the winds got too strong on the last day, we wouldn’t have far to go to get back to the launch. Plus, Ericsons Bay had the only outhouse on Lake Ozette besides the campground at the ranger station, so that was a welcome treat.
Other than the outhouse, Ericsons Bay had little to recommend it. It was a popular Boy Scout destination, so the ground was trampled and all the logs had been harvested for firewood. It was definitely a step down from Tivoli Island, but it still turned out to be a wise decision to stay at Ericsons Bay, because the last day featured 15-mph winds (24 kph), which kicked up waves and whitecaps, as well as substantial rain.
The conditions were not so rough as to warrant fear, but Dad’s boat did take on enough water that we thought it best for him to pull over and pump it out. Unfortunately, there were very few beaches on Lake Ozette, so poor Dad had to hop out in water that was just a little bit deeper than his boots were tall. This was his second pair of footwear that was now soaked, and unfortunately for him, even when we’re kayak-camping, we don’t bring three sets of shoes.
Sunrise over Lake Ozette. The Olympic coast is one of the most beautiful places in Washington.
Launch at Ericsons Bay. It would be sacrilegious to kayak across such a beautiful lake at any pace faster than a slow drift.
Looking back at Ericsons Bay campsite. Without a map, a paddler would have to look carefully to identify the gap in the trees.
Approaching Tivoli Island. It doesn’t look like much from the water, but this island has a terrific campsite.
Northbound from Tivoli Island. The scene looks almost like a saltwater bay, but the air at Lake Ozette had a distinct freshwater taste.
Rainy last day back to the car. Poor dad was a bit underdressed for coastal camping.
Dad is not one to let wind, waves, and wet feet spoil his fun. Thanks to his great attitude, we were able to enjoy even the rainy paddle back to the launch site. The same southeast winds that were creating headwinds and chop in Ericsons Bay shot us north to the launch point once we rounded Eagle Point and gained protection from the fetch.
It can be fun to paddle in the rain, listening to the drops hitting your hood, your boat, and the water, and feeling the wind push you forward. You feel a little bit like a wild animal yourself, keenly aware that our planet’s natural elements still have power over our lives sometimes.
Unlike wild animals, of course, Dad and I had a warm car waiting for us at the launch point. I like being out in the elements, but I’m always grateful for the heater in my car at the end of the day. March is still a little early in the year for camping the coast. There’s a reason Dad and I were the only ones out there.
But even though most of the trip was cloudy, if not drizzly, if not actually rainy, it was still a great time. It’s wonderful that we still have large, protected lakes like Ozette to explore and enjoy, with all the forests and birds and animals around to keep us company. Dad and I are lucky to be able to spend time in the wilderness together.
—Alex Sidles