Up the Sol Duc — the Sparkling Waters

Turn south here, off the highway, and the whole feel of the drive changes. The wide open road folds away behind you, and you slip into one of the loveliest valleys in the entire park — the Sol Duck. That's an anglicized Quileute name, and it means sparkling waters. Say it Sohl-duck. You'll see why the name stuck the moment the river comes into view through the trees, riffling silver over the stones. This road runs about fourteen miles to its very end, and every one of those miles takes you deeper into old-growth forest — Douglas-fir and western hemlock so tall the light comes down green and filtered, like you're driving along the floor of something cathedral-sized. Roll a window down if the weather lets you. The air gets cooler and damper as you climb, and somewhere off to the side you'll start to hear the river keeping pace with you, talking the whole way up. A few miles in you'll pass a rustic hot-springs resort, where mineral pools have been drawing people to soak for generations — steam rising off the water in the cool mountain air. One honest heads-up before you commit to the climb: this is a seasonal mountain road, and it gates shut in winter. So if you're rolling through in the cold months, make sure it's actually open before you count on reaching the top. For now, just settle in. Big trees, green light, the river running alongside. The best of this valley is waiting up ahead — the leaping salmon, and the falls at the road's end. Let it pull you in.