Olympic winners

Good. Better. Best.

That’s a fair three-word description of a recent tour of three Olympic National Park destinations: Sol Duc Hot Springs, Kalaloch Lodge and Lake Quinault Lodge.

My family had not visited the Olympic Peninsula in years but had fond memories of the ancient forests and rugged beaches of Washington’s wild west. We decided to circle from north (Sol Duc) to south (Lake Quinault), stopping at Kalaloch in the middle.

That turned out to be the best route, as the accommodations grew progressively more appealing as we went along. Had we started at Lake Quinault and ended at Sol Duc, we might not have finished the trip so satisfied.

Sol Duc Hot Springs

When we got out of the car at Sol Duc Hot Springs, my 7-year-old son proclaimed, “This place stinks.”

And he meant it literally. The mineral waters that give the area its name smell strongly of sulfur and the odor permeates the grounds, the cabins and even the lodge and restaurant.

Four outdoor, spring-fed pools are the main attraction: three for soaking (warm, warmer and hot) and one full-sized for swimming.

The original inhabitants of the area considered the pungent waters curative, and the first health spa was built on the site nearly 100 years ago. Today, visitors come to soak and also to hike the many trails that lead deep into the forest.

Hiking was at the top of our agenda, but a vigorous spring storm dashed our ambitions. Rain, hail and snow deterred us from walking any farther than Sol Duc Falls – a little less than a mile along a wooded trail that was lush and gorgeous despite the darkened skies.

Weather also intruded on our soak in the pools, which was bookended by mad, frigid dashes to the changing rooms.

The lodge has the only available restaurant for at least 15 miles. The food (crab cakes, fish-n-chips, chicken strips) was adequate though high-priced, given the coffee-shop ambience.

A night curled up in front of a fire in the lodge with a good book would have capped the evening nicely, but Sol Duc offers no such experience.

One of the drawbacks is a lack of the kind of communal spaces associated with the great lodges of the Western parks, such as Timberline or Paradise. At Sol Duc, once the sun goes down, guests are relegated to their units.

Operator Aramark’s website calls them “rustic, charming cabins,” but honestly, they should’ve stopped at “rustic.” The cabins are small and dark, with only the most basic furnishings.

We paid $20 extra for one with a kitchenette; we didn’t use it much, but we were glad to have it. Without the extra few feet of space, claustrophobia would have set in.

Kalaloch Lodge

On day two of our Olympic sojourn, we left Sol Duc early and high-tailed it to the coast.

At Ruby Beach, we lucked into the only sun we found on our vacation and scored three hours of beachcombing, tide-pool hunting and rock-skipping on one of Washington state’s most savagely beautiful shorelines.

When the rain caught up with us, we hopped in the car and drove to Kalaloch via Forks, where we stocked up on groceries in one of the many stores sporting a “Twilight”-inspired “Bella shops here” sign.

At Kalaloch, another extra $20 bought us a night in a sweet cabin on a bluff above the Pacific. Nothing fancy, but blond wood, big picture windows, a built-in eating nook and a sofa helped us feel at home as we watched the weather roll over the ocean.

During a lull in the rain we took a solitary walk on the beautiful, windswept beach. And while our plans for a nighttime beach bonfire were scuttled by a storm, we enjoyed a cozy night reading and playing games in the cabin.

Lake Quinault Lodge

The next morning, we had a tasty breakfast at Kalaloch Lodge (French toast, eggs and bacon, breakfast burrito) then headed back toward the interior of the peninsula and our final destination: Lake Quinault Lodge.

It was a short drive – under an hour – and we hadn’t been out of the car for five minutes when my son with the sensitive nose asked, “Can we stay here an extra day”?

Lake Quinault Lodge makes that kind of impression. The setting is breathtaking – a vast lake surrounded by pristine forest. The historic lodge, built in the 1920s, fits right in – a grand, cedar-clad homage to old-fashioned craftsmanship.

Inside, a huge stone fireplace warms a welcoming lobby where guests read, do jigsaw puzzles and games, and play the piano.

Visitors here choose to stay in one of three buildings: the lodge itself, with the most traditional hotel rooms; the Boathouse, a 1923 annex with a kind of quaint, knotty-pine charm; and the Lakeside building, a more modern, three-story wing with spacious accommodations suitable for families. All three are close to resort activities.

And there is plenty to do, rain or shine. We swam in the indoor pool, played ping-pong in the lodge basement and then sat happily by the fire, making plans to come back in the summer sun for a paddle on the lake.

That night we ate in the Roosevelt Dining Room, named after the lodge’s most famous guest: President Franklin D. Roosevelt, who visited in 1937.

The menu is pricey, but unlike many resort restaurants, which have a captive clientele, this one is worth every penny. Chef Patrick Norris delivered a fabulous pan-seared halibut ($30) and rib-eye steak ($27) to the grown-ups at our table, and a just-right pizza to our son ($7).

The next morning – our last on the peninsula – we found a mile-long interpretive trail close to the lodge and ambled through the soggy rain forest. Moss, mushrooms, nurse logs and an endless variety of Northwest native plants surrounded us.

Looking up, we watched drops of water dripping off Douglas fir branches a hundred feet in the air – falling … falling … falling onto our upturned faces.

The dizzying scale of the trees, the vegetation practically erupting out of every surface, put an emphatic exclamation point on the end of our three-day tour.

Even with Sol Duc’s shortcomings, the trip rated the motto “Best of the Northwest.”

Or at least “Good, Better, Best …”