It's been a rough few years for the Olympics. The park's most spectacular visitor center, at the Hurricane Ridge Day Lodge, burned down in 2023, and no plans exist yet for its replacement; the Hoh Rain Forest Visitor Center became inaccessible in 2024 when the approach road was washed out. Still, there is information and a wilderness travel desk  at the Port Angeles Olympic National Park Visitor Center and some services at the Kalaloch Ranger Station.

Local legend claims the blue-green Lake Crescent just west of Port Angeles is bottomless. Rustic dirt roads line the north end of the lake, while Highway 101 skirts the south shore; there are boat launches at Storm King Ranger Station and Fairholme. Boaters have paddled from the sprawling Lake Crescent Lodge since 1916, and rental kayaks and canoes still push off from the lakeside guest houses. 

In the middle of a rainforest, it’s rarely hot enough for a dip in lakes filled with snowmelt. But the mineral pools of the Sol Duc Valley get as hot as 104 degrees, filling perfectly round manmade pools for guests of the Sol Duc Hot Springs Resort—or day pass holders. For a more natural dip, the Olympic Hot Springs are simple steaming pools in the dirt, surrounded only by a few boulders. While once a short jaunt, dam removal road closures mean that these springs will require a more intense 20-mile walk from the Elwha area.

The largest wide-open stretches of even land in the park—accessible by car, anyway—are on the shores of Beach Three near Kalaloch; the unrelenting winds off the Pacific along that whole stretch don’t hurt either.

There’s little climbing on the Olympic Peninsula due to the rock quality—scrambling up the brittle rock on the coast’s big sea stacks isn’t recommended. But the jagged peak of Mount Cruiser in the park’s southeastern corner near Hoodsport can get crowded with climbers and is the best-known route in the mountain range.

Much of First Beach near La Push is part of the Quileute Reservation, but the tips of the mile-long stretch are park land. Surfing is also common on beaches near Neah Bay. Waves are brutal on this coast; don’t forget these beaches are lined with memorials to Chilean and Norwegian sailors who perished in these gnarly waves.

The sandy beach beneath one Sitka spruce tree’s roots on the Olympic National Park coast has almost completely eroded away, earning the Kalaloch Campground sentinel the nickname Tree of Life (and substantial Instagram fame). No one knows how long the massive trunk can stay suspended on its remaining earthbound tendrils, but every year or so a rumor goes around that it’s been toppled by the battering coastal winds. Fake news! (For now, at least.)

The park's sights don't sleep at night. Far from the light pollution of city epicenters, the night sky shines bright throughout the Olympic National Park, but viewing is best at the Hurricane Ridge Astronomy Program. Expert night sky observers lend their giant telescopes for up-close viewing and lead full-moon hikes. 

With varied terrain comes a plethora of fauna, from endemic species found nowhere else (the Olympic marmot, snow mole and torrent salamander) to gray whales and Roosevelt elk. Birdwatchers will find over 300 species of birds, and tidepoolers ambling along the beaches can spy a rainbow of anemones, urchins, and starfish. Remember all wildlife in national parks are protected by federal law; view from a safe distance and don't disturb the animals.

The quintessential trail is temporarily closed while county officials repair a washed-out road; once travel is safe, rangers will restoring essential services (ahem, bathrooms) and reopen the Hoh Rain Forest area. A dozen feet of rain fall each year in the Hoh Valley, where ferns line the forest floor and mosses hang from the thick canopy. Mountaineers attempting to summit the park’s highest point, Mount Olympus, start their ascent up the 7,980-foot peak from here. This much shorter route, a mild self-guided nature trail, is just 0.8 miles round trip. 

The popular, challenging overnight trip through the Seven Lakes Basin reveals some of the most stunning mountainscapes in the park over an 18.2-mile loop. Leave from the Sol Duc area, but be sure to secure a backcountry permit.

Lake Quinault itself is half in the national park and half out, but fully surrounded by the Quinault Rain Forest; a day hike leads to the historic Kestner Homestead. Many of the park’s arboreal giants are here, including the record-size Sitka spruce and Quinault big cedar.

Schlep 13 miles up the Quinault River to the backpacker’s heaven of Enchanted Valley. The water streaming off 3,000-foot cliffs gives it the fairy-tale nickname “Valley of 1,000 Waterfalls.” Old growth forest, wildflower meadows, and wildlife abound.

Perhaps Hurricane Ridge's most popular trail, a paved path up to a 5,757-foot peak and just three miles round trip. The same area boasts the hike to Grand Valley from Obstruction Point, a nearly 10-mile trip to a row of alpine lakes. Pack enough food and water for the journey; after the Hurricane Ridge Day Lodge was destroyed by a fire, resources are now more limited. 

This triangle of boardwalks and beach is one of the state's classic routes. Dedicated souls make the roundabout drive out to this remote lake, separated from the Pacific by a sliver of land that’s become a favorite of archeologists, then head toward the ocean.

The national park waterfront is a series of jagged headlands that separate secluded beaches with no car access. They’re 73 miles of the state’s Pacific coastline—nearly half—and almost all of the northern, rugged bits. Access to most of those miles demands a hike, a scramble, or even a few days of backpacking, but that only adds to the appeal. Check out our account of a trip south from Third Beach.

Of the park’s 16 campgrounds, Kalaloch is the only one to take reservations, though waterfront erosion has erased some coveted bluff sites. Spot D29 is, according to the Kalaloch Visitor Center, “the hottest site. Everyone wants it.” Besides a killer ocean view, it boasts an easy-to-back-into parking spot.

If you waited until a sunny Friday to dust off your pup tent, head to the huge Heart o’ the Hills campground outside Port Angeles. Its 105 sites take a bit longer to fill, and the lack of a flashy lake or peak helps, too. The E Loop sites reach the farthest into the old-growth forest. 

The primitive campground doesn’t have potable water, paved-road access, or RV hookups. Or, best of all, many people. A hike to abandoned homesteads and a 212-foot Douglas fir requires fording two treacherous rivers. There are only 20 sites and all are gravel; take your pick.

The 1926 building shows off Olympic greenery in the best light—president Franklin Roosevelt ate here and, bam, nine months later declared it a national park. Its chimney boasts a totem-pole-shaped rain gauge that measures precipitation in feet, not inches.

The crackling lobby fireplace and well-stocked bar make the waterfront hotel the polar opposite of roughing it. The historic main lodge rooms boast oodles of old-timey charm but no private baths, while some of the two-bedroom cottages have a fireplace, mini fridge, and lake view. Log Cabin Resort, across the water, is more rustic. 

Just off Port Townsend's waterfront, a humble hot dog trailer slings dad jokes and an impressive catalog of dogs. Sure, there's always the classic Seattle style to fall back on, but a Chiang Mai, Carolinas, or Tokyo dog employ creative combos of Thai pork sausage, coleslaw, and seaweed to transport diners far beyond the peninsula. 

The bright red roadside stand in Forks isn’t quite the size of a standard restaurant, but the ribs and brisket have full-size flavor. Launched by a local who spent a decade in Texas, it is perfectly situated for a picnic at adjacent Tillicum Park.

Rustic charm reigns supreme at this family-run cafe situated just a few miles from the east bank of Lake Crescent. They might be know for their sweets—pie, cobbler, and soft serve—but sandwiches and local beef burgers make for a hearty pit stop just outside of Port Angeles.