The Hoh River begins 8,000 feet above sea level, on Mt. Olympus.
It travels 56 miles from its source to the sea. Through alpine highlands, steep canyons and rich, braided bottom lands.
Northern spotted owl, marbled murrelet, and bald eagle nest in snags along the Hoh and in the surrounding watershed.
Over 140 inches of rain a year feeds the river and its tributaries. The ancient forests that thrive inside the National Park represent one of the planet’s last intact temperate rainforests.
Deer, Roosevelt elk, black bear, cougar, fox, and other mammals roam the deep green shadows below towering fir, cedar and spruce.
Salmon spawn in the Hoh’s clean gravel, each fish completing a journey that lasted years, before returning to the place it began.
There are a quarter-million rivers in the lower 48, but there aren’t many that remain intact. By “intact,” I mean that there aren’t many that flow from start to end, from snowmelt to brine, without being redirected and reclaimed in some dang-fool, money-grabbing, politically motivated scheme along the way.