September 2013
Epic.
There’s no other way to describe it.
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| Mt. Rainier |
This year’s backpacking trip was to the Pacific
Northwest. We submitted permit requests
back in March to do the Wonderland Trail, a 93 mile loop around Washington’s
Mount Rainier. The mountain itself is an
impressive sight. At 14,410 feet high,
it is one of the highest mountains in the Continental US, only 84 feet short of
Mt. Whitney, the highest peak. Majestically
pre-eminent, it rises above the surrounding area as a solitary reminder of a
more untamed time on Earth. Rainier is
classified as an active volcano, although I’m not sure what that means since
the peak is snow-covered and hasn’t seen an eruption in several hundred
years. Perhaps it just means that it
could erupt at some point, which is believable considering Mt. St. Helens is a
close neighbor to the south.
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| Glacial valley |
The Wonderland Trail is a very popular trail, being so close
to Seattle. There are several points of
entrance and several other trails that feed off of it. This makes it easy to plan a short two or
three day loop or an out-and-back of similar length. One of the distinguishing features of the
trail is the variety of the experience.
The east and north sides of the mountain are primarily alpine meadow
while the west side is heavily forested.
The south side has less elevation changes and follows two rivers most of
the way. It’s a good chance to
experience different types of terrain all in one place. Mt. Rainier is heavily glaciated with 25
named glaciers emitting from it. Also
the elevation of the trail is more moderate than you will find in Colorado or
the Sierras, topping out at about 6,800 feet.
Another distinguishing feature is the total elevation change of the
trail. The gains and losses total 22,000
feet. Due to the volcanic ridges coming
off the mountain, we often spent the morning going downhill and the afternoon
going uphill, or vice versa, ending at the same elevation we had started
at. Water is abundant and the trail is
heavily patrolled by the park service.
Due to the popularity of this trail and the limited
campsites, we were not surprised when our permit submissions were denied. We later heard that they had a record number
of requests submitted this year. Since
many of the camps have only a few sites and about 30% of those are reserved for
walk-ups, the chance of getting your schedule fulfilled for each night at the
requested campsite is very small. Our
plan was for Bruce to arrive early and try to get the permits the day before as
a walk-up. In addition, we had Plan B, C
and D spread around the three national parks of Northwest Washington. Fortunately, Bruce was able to get the
permits with only a slight deviation from our original request, adding a few
miles to two of the days. We were doing
the trail in a clockwise direction over 9 days.
With the additional miles and some planned side trips, the route was almost
100 miles long. Bruce also was able to
buy most of our food for the week and cache in two places along the trail,
meaning we were never carrying more than four days of supplies, a welcome
change from our last trip when we started with eight days in our backpacks.
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| Campsite at Sunrise |
I set out the morning of August 30th flying from
Peoria to Seattle via Chicago. Other
than meeting a couple of guys that I know through church at the Peoria airport,
the travel was uneventful. I arrived in
Seattle a little ahead of Tom. As I
waited for him, I was met by a lady soliciting for Haitian orphans. I somewhat disrupted her sales spiel since I
have been involved in Haiti for 20 years.
She was skeptical of my claims until I started naming places I had
been. After that she moved on to her
normal targets who seemed more likely to give her money. Fortunately Tom soon showed up and we
gathered our luggage and flagged down our ride, the immutable Bruce. A couple of hours later after eating our last
normal meal we pulled into the empty parking lot at Sunrise where we left our
car and hiked 1.3 miles to the campsite as the early evening fog rolled
in. Sunrise is one of the two main
entrances to the trail, located on the Northeast corner at just over 6,000 feet
of elevation. Bears are active around
the mountain, but not too much so. Each
campground has a tall pole with small appendages to hang food bags from each
night. Basically, picture a tall, skinny
coatrack. There was a long pole to lift
your food bag up to the top. My guess is
that there are very few bears that venture into the campgrounds. Most of the poles could have been pushed over
or shaken by even a semi-determined bear.
However, we faithfully hung our food in a bag each night. Small rodents are probably a greater risk
although they wouldn’t take all of the food.
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| Bear pole |
It was a very clear morning with some great views of
Rainier. I had prepared myself for a
nine day trip of rain and cloud-obstructed views. Bruce, having spent the two previous days in
the area hadn’t seen the summit of the mountain yet. But this morning was just about perfect. We took pictures as if this would be the last
time we saw the summit, not knowing if that would be the case or not. We hit the trail at 8:00 and started
downhill. Over the first three and half
miles, we dropped 2000 feet to the White River, a glacier-fed stream. The glaciers of Rainier spawn numerous
rivers. I believe I read that 10 rivers
begin here.
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| Glacier-fed stream. Doesn't it make you thirsty? |
This was my first experience with glacier-fed rivers. If you are like me, you’ve been exposed to
the advertising campaigns for bottled water where glaciers are the symbol of
purity and nature. The reality is much different. As the glaciers grind down the side of the
mountain, the streams and rivers they create contain the results of that
grinding, as in many small bits and pieces of rock. The waters are almost chalky in color. We were fortunate that we always had other
sources of water and didn’t have to use that water which would plug a filter in
a hurry. So the next time you see
bottled water with the word “glacier,” check for sediment at the bottom to see
if it is the real thing.
As we approached the river, we came across the White River
Campground, full of RV’s and families out experiencing nature to the best of
their abilities. Bruce dropped his pack
to get some food out, much to the interest of a couple of very young boys who
were still in their pajamas. “Come
along, boys,” their mother called out.
“Those are hikers.” As if no other explanation was needed. To the wee lads, we must have appeared to be
some kind of backwoods Santa with huge packs of goodies visiting all the good
little ones in the campground! Perhaps
someday when they are grown, they will remember those mysterious strangers who
carried such wonderful things in their packs.
Perhaps they will become the next generation of true backpackers,
leaving their pop-ups and fancy bathrooms behind. Speaking of which, we did take advantage of
the last true bathrooms we would see for a while.
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| Bruce at the White River. The washed-out bridge is in the background. |
We had heard that the bridge across the river was out. We came across a ranger who confirmed that
and instructed us to follow the road paralleling the trail for about a mile and
half until we could cross at the next bridge.
When asked if we could make it across anyway, she tried to discourage us
from undertaking such a fool-hardy endeavor.
We wanted to take a look anyway.
Tom thought we could cross without a bridge, but it turned out to be
more than we wanted to tackle. Many of
the “bridges” are giant logs placed across the river. During times of high water such as during the
spring melt or after torrential rains, the river rises to the level to push the
bridge from its moorings. Often, the
bridge was anchored securely on one side and just lightly on the other
side. That way the water would force the
unsecured side downriver, and the log would swing parallel to the river. The rangers would then come out with a winch
and move it back into place after the water level subsided. This kept the bridge from being swept away completely
and lost. That is what had happened to
this bridge after some heavy rains the previous Thursday. Since there was an easy way around this
particular bridge, it wasn’t a high priority to get it moved back into place. So we spent some time on the road, trying to
avoid the cars that weren’t looking for hikers, a kind of real-life “Frogger.” We made it without having to expend any
additional lives, which we might need later.
After we crossed the river and left the road, it was uphill
for the next five miles to the Summerland campsite. Summerland is a very popular place being so
close to the trail access and having some very nice views of the mountain. Translation:
day-hiker paradise. We saw many
of them. We were making good time on our
10.1 mile route. Too good. We really pushed ourselves, partly out of the
enthusiasm of starting the journey, especially with only 30 pound packs. We arrived at the campground by noon. The advantage of arriving early is having
your pick of campsites. While we didn’t
run into many bad campsites, some were definitely better than others. All of them were small, accommodating only 1
or 2 tents. Groups with more than two
tents have to move up to the group sites which could handle some of the larger
groups that we saw. One to three people were
the most common sizes of groups that we encountered. While all the sites within the campgrounds
technically could handle two tents, some were more technically than
others. The disadvantage of arriving
early is that you really have nothing to do until supper.
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| Site of the famed fire-starting contest. |
During our ascent to Summerland, there was evidently some
discussion between Tom and Bruce regarding survival techniques. This spawned a rather serious discussion
about the possibilities of starting a fire without matches or lighters. In spite of the general ban on campfires in
the park, the conversation led to a proposed contest as to who could be the
first one to start a fire without matches or lighters. Note that the conversation did not include me
as I would have frowned upon said illegal activity. So once we arrived at the campsite and set up
our tents, the other two members of our group set out to prove the superiority
of their own personal survival skills.
While I did not pay too much attention to this, the activity involved
survival knives, dry wood, sticks, leaves and, ultimately, shoelaces. Having not shared our intrepid survivalists’
enthusiasm for this endeavor, I scouted the campground for more interesting
fare. On my way back to our site, I saw
ahead of me a ranger making the rounds to check for permits. Realizing as he made the sharp right leading
to our campsite that this may signify the end of our adventure, I cautiously
approached our area. He had come up on
the fire-starting contest quietly, but Tom happened to look up from his attempt
in enough time to quickly hop up, singing out, “Well, Hello Ranger!” Bruce, quickly ditching his work as well,
joined them in discussion. As I
approached, the two of them were standing there, looking as guilty as all get
out. Fortunately neither one was
remotely close to getting a flame, although both of them claimed they had
produced a significant amount of heat.
The ranger was oblivious to what was going on, or at least acted like
it. He checked our permit and left. Technically, they were not in violation of
the park rules as the rule states that you cannot have a fire, but doesn’t say
anything about starting one, or trying to start one as the case may be. A few more unsuccessful attempts were made,
but with an ever watchful eye lest the ranger return.
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| Site of the ecological disaster. |
Shortly after the fire-starting contest ended in a draw,
Bruce and I went to get water. There was
a small stream just past the camp. The
camp area was mainly alpine meadow, but there were scattered pockets of
trees. The other identifying attribute
of this particular camp was the large number of small signs warning hikers to
stay on the trail due to the fragile nature of the meadow. The quantity of signs was such that it seemed
a greater risk to the meadow was an overpopulation of warning signs much more
than hikers actually walking in the meadow.
The trail from the camp crossed the stream and then meandered up the
next ridge. At the stream crossing
another hiker was washing his clothes in the stream. Not wanting to filter the water coming from
his clothes, we went upstream about 10 feet where there was a better place to
filter. To do so, we had to step over
some branches that were laying there. I
pulled out my water filter and began pumping away, filling our water
bottles. As we were finishing, another
ranger appeared and launched into a very serious and lengthy diatribe regarding
the fragile nature of Summerland and how all these people were ruining it. Bruce and I were evidently included in the
group of people because we had stepped over the branches he had purposely laid
there to keep people on the trail. During
a pause in the lecture, Bruce was able to interject an apology and stated that
we were just about done, to which the ranger threw up his hands and exclaimed
with great exasperation, “Well, the damage is done!” We packed up our water filter, picked up the
water bottles and slunk back to our campsite feeling the burden of the
ecological destruction we had wrought as the ranger continued his lecture on
LNT (Leave No Trace) and how all these people were ruining the area.
We met quite a few rangers on the trip, which was very
unusual. Normally we see a couple at
most. With only one notable exception,
they were helpful and friendly. This
particular ranger seemed to be a little too high-strung for this particular
job. He did provide some comic relief
for the remainder of the trip as we invoked his words often when undertaking
activities off the beaten path. We could
not decide between calling him Ranger Rick and Ranger Barney, as in Fife. To protect the guilty, I will refer to him as
Ranger Javert. After Bruce and I
returned with our ill-gotten water to our campsite, we were able to slip in a
quick word of warning to Tom before the ranger showed up and repeated his rant
to Tom who was obviously guilty by association.
After a couple of minutes, he began to calm down, perhaps believing he
had accomplished his purpose by brow-beating us into submission. He then left to check the other sites for
evil-doers, but before leaving he did mention that he was staying at a secret
campsite not far from there. We were
very thankful that he was not the one who broke up the fire-starting contest. One can only imagine that such a blatant
disregard of park regulations would have resulted in a lecture of untold
proportions and other potentially serious punishments.
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| World class latrine. |
The Summerland campground was one of the nicer and more
popular sites. In addition to a
half-dozen sites, it had a shelter.
Several of the campgrounds we saw had these shelters, which were
generally for larger groups, but were also used by others to get out of the
weather. The shelters were three-sided
log cabins with a rough wood floor. We
used several of them for our lunch stops.
All the campgrounds also had some sort of latrine. Whereas past trips have involved digging cat
holes to dispose of human waste, we didn’t need to use the shovel even once on
this trip. The latrines ranged from a
fiberglass unit over a pit to a more elaborate wood structure with a
ventilation system like the one at Summerland.
Compared to having to dig a hole, all the facilities were excellent!
One day down, cumulative mileage = 11.4 miles
The night was one of the warmer ones that we experienced,
allaying my concerns that I had brought the wrong sleeping bag. We got up around 6:20 and hit the trail at
8:00 before Ranger Javert returned to critique our other camping and clean-up
skills. As we left the campground, there
was a huge marmot lying on the top of a log just off the trail, obviously
exhausted after doing whatever marmots do at night. We safely and carefully crossed the creek and
threw into the ravine all the branches blocking access to the meadow and
stream! Ha! Ha! Just kidding!
We weren’t about to touch those branches, so carefully placed to
preserve the natural feel of the meadow (sense the irony).
Sunday was a warm, sunny day, which afforded us many clear
views of Mt. Rainier. We were a little
sore from having pushed ourselves too much on Saturday. We started out crossing several snowfields, a
testament to the lasting impact of the winters in this area. Not too many snowdrifts in Central Illinois
last until September! During this day we
were at one of closest points to the peak of the mountain and were close to
several of the smaller glaciers. We had
quite a bit of short up and down stretches during the morning, but were still
in alpine tundra areas. We stopped for
lunch at the Indian Bar shelter. This is
also the site of the famed Wauhaukaupauken Falls. Blueberries were in abundance and were quite
tasty. Not surprisingly, Tom had a bear
sighting in this area as well as an elk sighting.
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| Alpine meadow, typical of east side of Rainier. |
After Indian Bar, we had a steep climb and then a ridge run
for several miles. We had not filtered
water at Indian Bar, which turned out to be a problem. The warm day and long, dry trail resulted in all
of us running out of water. Tom also
lost his knife, bringing to a permanent end the quest for natural fire-starting. I had hurt my knee earlier in the summer and
aggravated that injury the previous day.
Downhills were rough, so I took it a little slower. This night’s preferred campsite was the one
that was not available when Bruce got the reservations. After coming down off the ridge run, we had
to leave the Wonderland Trail and follow the Cowlitz Divide Trail for 1.3 miles
to the Olallie Creek campground. Finally
we were able to get some water to quench our thirst. Increasingly we had become aware of the
backpack weight of water. A liter is
about 2 lbs., so if you fill your Camelback (100 oz) and a Nalgene, you’ve just
added 8 lbs. to your pack weight in the morning. Pack weight without water was probably 25
lbs. However, dying with a light
backpack is not the way I’d like to meet the Lord. We tried to go somewhere in the middle, but
this particular day, we all guessed wrong the same way. We talked about filtering at lunch, but we
all thought we had enough.
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| Typical "bridge" |
At this point, we had completed the eastern part of the
trail and were now at the southeast corner.
We arrived at the campground around 4:30 having completed 10.4 miles for
the day. The Olallie Creek campground
was easily the smallest and most Spartan that we experienced, primarily because
it was off the Wonderland Trail.
However, our desired campground, Nickel Creek, was full as was the next
one, Maple Creek. Olallie Creek had a
group site, which was nice, and two small individual sites, one of which was
not large enough for two tents, and one which was just slightly larger and had
a dead tree leaning over it. Dead trees
in campsites are known as “widowmakers” for obvious reasons. Since we were already convicted
rule-breakers, we considered using the group site instead of one of the
others. Our reasoning was that it was a
Sunday night (albeit Labor Day Weekend), it was already getting late and no one
else had shown up, and we were in a more remote part of the park. Tom was convinced that we wouldn’t see anyone
else that night and the group site was MUCH better than the individual
sites. Bruce was concerned that someone
would come and claim the small site and then if a group did show up, or a
ranger came, we would end up having to take the really small site. As a compromise, Bruce moved his stuff down
to the better individual site and Tom and I set up our tent at the group
site. We then started supper. About that time, we heard hikers on the
trail. Fortunately, they were just
passing by. About the time we were half
done eating supper, we heard more voices.
They seemed to be coming toward us.
We looked at Tom. He mumbled
something about they would probably move on.
No such luck. We were soon joined
by three female hikers who were part of a group hike with a guide. Eventually there were 9 of them plus the guide
and this was their first night out.
Sadly, we carried out stuff down to the other site.
The other indication that this campground was not very
popular was the latrine. While it was
quite a distance from the campsites, it was basically just sitting out in the
open. Small wooden platform, fiberglass
body and wood cover over the seat. I was
thinking that if this was any of the group hikers’ first trip, this would be
the sign of things to come for them. For
the three of us, this was still quite a luxury compared to our other trips.
Once we got our tents situated on the
too-small-for-two-tents site, it turned out to be OK. The other group was tired from their travels
(one had just gotten in from Australia) and didn’t make much noise. We were right beside a creek, which is always
relaxing. No one claimed the other,
smaller site, so it was fairly private.
This is in contrast to the other group who had about 7 tents crammed into
the group site. I’m not sure how they
got them all in, but it didn’t look very comfortable. Tom and I had scoped out that site when we
first put our tent up there and came up with two acceptable places within the
site. Maybe we are just too picky.
Two days down, cumulative mileage = 21.8 miles.
Monday was the aptly named Labor Day. It was to be an epic day. We had 14.5 miles to do, which is the most I
had ever done in one day. We got up
early in anticipation of the big day which is also important when you are
sharing a wide-open latrine with a group that is primarily female. We hit the trail at 7:00 and hiked the 1.3
miles back up to the Wonderland Trail. From
there, it was downhill for the next 2 miles, losing 1,400 feet of elevation to
the Nickel Creek campground. A mile
later we crossed a road at Box Canyon Overlook which also had bathrooms and
garbage cans. We stopped for a rest and
snacks, dumped our garbage and started down the trail. Or perhaps I should say started up the trail. The trail was following a creek, which was
also paralleled by a road. Box Canyon is
a very steep, very deep canyon, but not very wide. It is spanned by a short bridge. Otherwise it would be impassible. This portion of the trail was more heavily
forested than the east section of the Wonderland Trail had been. We also saw a few more day hikers. One interesting thing about this trail is
that you can meet the same people twice.
Depending on where and when they started, you may meet them on the other
side of the mountain. We saw a number of
serious hikers on this particular day, including a rather large fellow with a
magnificent red beard.
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| We found this on the trail. We speculate it was left by an unhappy teenager. |
In general, the Wonderland Trail is very well maintained and
well-marked. I would imagine it is a
difficult trail to maintain due to the amount of precipitation and the
elevation changes. There was one spot
where there was a major wash-out and no way to route around it. It was on the side of a steep hill and all
that was left of the trail was a very small path on a 60 degree slope. I was a little nervous on that as it would
have been a very fast ride down to the level ground a hundred feet below. Not being a fan of heights, I took my time
and tried not to think of the drop-off.
I wonder how the first person across felt about this, not knowing
whether they would make it or not.
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| Waterfall near Paradise |
Shortly after lunch, we took a short side trail to Louise
Lake, a small scenic lake with a nice view of the mountain where we filtered
some water, having learned our lesson the previous day. Unfortunately, it also had a nice view of the
road, which made it seem not quite so nice.
As we sat there enjoying the beautiful scenery, a garbage truck went by
using all its gears on the climbing road.
The weather had been excellent up to this point. If anything, it was a little warm to be
backpacking. We were now just south of
Paradise. We didn’t actually get to
Paradise, but it was close! Paradise is
somewhat of a resort with quite a number of short trails. It is also the entry point for groups
climbing Mt. Rainier from the South. I
believe the northeast route is more popular, but there is a camp and patrol
cabin at 10,000 feet. Paradise is also
known for heavy winter snows. The
current record is 1,100 inches in one season.
Yes, that’s almost 100 feet of snow and helps explain why the trail is
only open a few months of the year!
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| Paradise latrine. |
We arrived at the Paradise River camp around 3:30, having
made excellent time, primarily due to fairly easy hiking. Interestingly enough, the campground was not
very large and rather primitive. There
were 3 individual and 1 group sites, but the facilities were similar to that of
the previous campground. There was an
excellent place to rinse out clothes, so I took advantage of that to splash
off, change shirts, and wash my old one.
Anything more than a splash was almost unbearable as the water was
frigid, as were all the creeks and rivers we crossed. That would be logical since they were coming
from glaciers. That evening as I was
making a trip to the privy at dusk, a very large animal came crashing through
the campground. I suspect it was an elk
due to the size, but the light was so poor that I could not make out exactly
what it was. If it was a deer, it was
the largest deer I have ever seen, and I’ve been surprised by some large ones
(see Yosemite trip journal).
You may be wondering what exciting, adventurous things we
rugged outdoorsmen do during the evenings.
At times, we (meaning Tom) have started a camp fire and pondered the
mysteries of life. However, since
campfires are banned in this park, we resorted to other adventurous
things. Some nights we just went to bed
early, especially if it was raining. We
always get plenty of sleep on these trips.
Some nights we would just talk.
Other nights we played a rather pointless card game (aren’t they all?)
with the smallest deck of cards I’ve ever seen, a result of Tom’s completely
out of control backpack weight reduction program.
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| "Fancy" bridge |
Speaking of Tom being completely out of control, one of his
ideas on this trip was to sleep in the tent without the rainfly. For those not familiar with backpacking, most
of these tents are mesh at the top. A
fly, which is like a sheet is thrown over the top and staked out to give more
protection from rain. One of the
problems with the fly is that it keeps in heat and moisture which is a problem
during warmer evenings. However, it does
do an excellent job at keeping out other moisture, like rain. After a couple nights of suggesting going
fly-less, I finally gave in to Tom. The
night looked clear and Tom said that if it did start raining, he would get up
and put the fly on. We attached it to
the stakes so that in the unlikely event of rain, it wouldn’t be a big deal to
flip it over onto the tent. We crawled
into the tent and our sleeping bags and were sleeping soundly when, of course,
it started to rain. Tom did as he had
promised and quickly got up and put the fly into place. Feeling guilty for forcing him to promise
that, I got up and helped him complete the task. Ha, Ha!! No, I smugly stayed in my nice warm,
dry sleeping bag while he scampered about getting the fly situated, knowing
this was the end of the “sleeping without a fly” discussion. At least until the next night. I will admit that on most nights, sleeping
without the fly is a much better way to go.
It just seemed that Tom picked the wrong nights.
Three days down, cumulative mileage = 36.3 miles.
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| One of numerous waterfalls |
In spite of the small amount of rain the previous night, Tuesday
morning was fine. After the traditional
hot breakfast of oatmeal, cream of wheat or ramen noodles, we packed up our wet
tents and were back on the trail by 8:00.
We met three hikers going the other way that we joked would be us in 15
– 20 years. After a short hike following
the Nisqually River downhill, we arrived at Longmire, site of the other major
access point for the Wonderland trail and, more importantly, our first supply
cache. Bruce had included some
“surprises” in addition to the regular supplies: fresh fruit.
At the ranger station where we picked up our supplies, we met some other
hikers. One was a middle-aged woman,
probably in her 50’s who was doing the whole trail in 6 days. That’s averaging over 15 miles per day! By herself!
She was slightly irritated at her support person who was supposed to be
there at 9:30 to bring supplies, but had not showed up yet. There was also a couple from out east who had
attempted the trail in a previous year, but were forced to quit due to poor
weather. Speaking of the weather, we
were able to get an updated weather forecast for the next couple of days, and
it wasn’t good. The forecast for
Thursday was 100% chance of rain, with up to 4 inches expected! At this point, there was no conversation
about ending the hike, but we realized the great weather we had experienced so
far was going to end soon.
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| Mt. St. Helens (we think) |
Bruce had suggested that we change our reservations for the
final night to the campground 3.6 miles further than what we had originally
requested. This would give us a shorter
final day, allowing us to get back to Seattle earlier. This would make the second to last day a
monster day of 13.3 miles plus some side trail excursions. After general discussion, we agree to the
merits of this change. The main ranger
station for Mt. Rainier is at Longmire, so we were able to make the change that
morning. We decided to hang around
Longmire until the restaurant opened for lunch at 11:30. The cloudy skies had let loose with a steady
rain adding to our reluctance to move on.
We purchased a few other supplies.
Bruce’s shoe had begun to disintegrate so he purchased some glue for
emergency repairs. We also replaced a
leaking bottle of insect repellent although at this point, the insects had not
been too bad. The lunch was in a nice
restaurant populated mainly with people staying in the lodge. There were a few other hikers including the
couple from out east. It felt weird
being halfway through a hike and eating in a restaurant with real plates and
silverware! Hopefully we weren’t sitting
upwind of anyone with sensitive noses!
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| Devil's Dream campsite. |
Having completed our visit to civilization, we hoisted up
our heavier backpacks and heading up the trail as the skies cleared. Longmire is one of the lower parts of the
trail at under 3,000 feet, so there was quite a bit of uphill from there. Devils Dream is at 5,000 feet with much of
that elevation gain coming at the end.
We passed some other groups on the way up which was beneficial in
selecting a camp site which turned to be very important as all the sites ended
up full. This campground was more
heavily wooded than others and was not on a level surface. Individual sites were fairly level, but this
would not have been a site I would have chosen when laying out the
campgrounds. There was also no immediate
water source. We had to continue up the
trail for about a half mile to get to a small stream to filter water. Here we met Ranger Dave Turner, a friendly,
knowledgeable ranger who explained some of the flora to us. It turns out that what we thought were blue
berries were probably huckleberries.
There were also salmonberries, which look like orange raspberries, but
are not as sweet, as well as gooseberries.
Having not learned his lesson from the previous night, Tom
insisted we should sleep without the fly again.
Since the rain had moved off, I agreed to do so. The evening turned out to be a cool one, but
strangest part was the noise. There was
a constant hum of mosquitos and bees. Normally
if you can hear mosquitos, they are swarming you. That’s what made this so strange. They were flying around, but didn’t seem that
interested in biting us. However, there
were enough that were biting that we turned in early for the evening. As I lay in the tent staring into the darkening
evening sky, I could see a bat flying around feasting on the mosquitos. It was a somewhat surreal experience. Somewhere around this point, Tom also found
the knife he thought he had lost. Its
reappearance, however, did not resurrect any discussion about fire-starting
contests. We were too far into the trip
to risk the wrath of any wandering rangers.
Four days down, cumulative mileage = 45.7 miles.
 |
| Ranger Cabin. Significantly nicer than tents. |
Wednesday morning we woke at 6:30 having experienced no rain
during the night. We hit the trail at
8:00. We had now completed the southern
side part and were now heading mainly north.
The west side of the mountain is the wildest part of the trail. It is more remote, more rugged, and less
traveled. We passed a fellow hiker going
the same direction as us. He had done
the trail multiple times. When we
mentioned the insect activity at Devils Dream, his comment was that he had never
seen so few mosquitos! Evidently the
reputation of that campground lent itself to the name. We also saw Ranger Dave again who gave us an
update on the weather forecast. It still
wasn’t good. The 2 to 4 inches of rain
forecasted would be enough to wipe out the log bridge over the South Mowich
River, which we needed to cross on Friday.
The previous Thursday had experienced less rainfall and had still wiped
out the bridge. We began to make contingency
plans.
 |
| Tahoma Creek bridge |
The Wednesday hike was down, up, down, up with each of those
sections having an elevation change of 1500 feet. At the bottom of the first we crossed Tahoma
Creek which is fed by the Tahoma Glaciers.
This particular creek was of such size and character that they did not
use a foot bridge to cross it. No, this
one had a suspension foot bridge. I knew
all along that there was a suspension bridge and at one point in prior years
had axed this particular trail because of the description. I generally do OK in overcoming my fear of
heights once we are on the trial, but the description of this particular bridge
that I had read was a bit more than I wanted to consider. It contained something like “dizzying
heights”, “raging river below” and other such descriptive terms. To be honest, I had forgotten about the
bridge during our hike until I rounded a bend and there it was. Tom and Bruce, being ahead of me as usual,
were waiting on me to see my reaction.
Tom was on this side and Bruce had crossed to the other side. To add a rather sadistic touch, Tom was
running video of my approach to the bridge.
Not wanting to give him any satisfaction, and not wanting to wait and
think about it, I continued across the bridge without breaking stride. Well, maybe it wasn’t quite that quick. It was amazing to me to see this large bridge
out in the middle of nowhere. The bridge
spans 200 feet and is 165 to 180 feet above the creek, depending upon which
publication you believe. Regardless, it
is a LONG way down. Not that I looked,
but you can just FEEL the space below you.
The sign on the bridge says only one person at a time. The reason for this is how much the bridge
bounces as you cross it. One person is
harrowing enough. To build it, the steel
and concrete were brought in by helicopter.
There really is no other way to get to it. I took a few pictures, but to get the best
idea of what it is like without actually being there, I would recommend
watching one of the YouTube videos that come from a search on “Tahoma Creek
Bridge.” They don’t quite get the bouncy
feeling, but it’s pretty close.
 |
| Side view of Tahoma Creek bridge |
 |
| Beautiful Lake. But the water turned out to be not so nice. |
As we continued on the trail, we caught up with a group of 3
hikers who were on their 12th day on the trail, of which 6 had been
rainy. We were very thankful for the
good weather we had experienced thus far.
The clear day had turned to fog as we began the final approach to
Klapatche Park, which is known for its spectacular views. We, however, experienced none of that due to
the limited visibility. We had been warned
that there was no good water source at the campground, and that we needed to
get water before that. We had also been
given a warning about the water in the area, but we interpreted that to mean
the water at the campground. We filtered
water at St. Andrews Lake. During the
20+ minutes we were there, the fog rolled in completely enveloping the lake and
limiting visibility to perhaps a couple hundred feet. We arrived at Klapatche Park just ahead of
some other hikers and were able to get a good site for the evening. Our source regarding the water supply at the
camp was accurate. There was a very
small stagnant pond that had dried up significantly leaving just a small mud
puddle brimming with small frogs.
Approaching the pond was almost impossible without stepping on
them. It was nice to look at, but not so
nice to drink from.
 |
| Klapatche Park campsite |
 |
| Large Fungus at campsite |
Five days down, cumulative mileage = 56.4 miles.
Thursday morning was cloudy.
Mindful of the weather forecast, we broke camp early. One of our contingency plans was to hike past
our next campground and try to stay at the one on the other side of the South
Mowich River, thus crossing the river before it rose. The downside was that it was a very long way
and we didn’t know if there would be room to camp at that site. There were some others who were planning to
do that, which would just make it more crowded.
In the end, we decided to stick with our schedule and hope for the
best. That turned out to be the right
decision. As we started on the trail, I
wasn’t feeling very well. My knee had been
bothering me most of the trip, causing me to exercise more caution and go
slower. On this particular day, I was
also feeling ill. We started with a
quick 2,000 foot drop over 2.8 miles to the next river. After following the contour line for a while,
we headed back up. At this point I was
feeling very tired and feverish. Tom
hung back with me for a while and said he wasn’t feeling the best either. I’m not sure if that was true, but misery
does love company, so it kept me going.
Suddenly, we (meaning Tom) heard something off to the
left. We were doing switchbacks on the
side of a fairly steep slope with significant undergrowth on the slope above
us. About 50 feet from us, the tall
weeds would begin moving and then stop.
It was a bear. It could tell we
were there, but didn’t seem to care, just going about its business. After a couple of minutes, we heard it move
off away from us and eventually we were able to catch a glimpse of part of it. It was one of my closer encounters with a
black bear. Seeing animals in natural
settings like this is one of the best aspects of backpacking.
Otherwise, the day was rather dismal. Fortunately, this was our shortest day
distance-wise at 7.6 miles. Our
objective was to reach Golden Lakes campground which also had a ranger patrol
cabin. This was by far the most
difficult day for me, but I really had no choice but to grind it out. Looking back on it now, I am thankful that it
was that particular day which was so bad.
Not only was it the shortest distance day, but was also had the least
elevation change. We reached the
campground shortly after noon, put up our tents and I got into my sleeping bag
and stayed there, shivering even with all my clothes on. Our best guesses are that either the water
from the previous day was bad in spite of being filtered, or the meal that Tom
and I shared was bad. It’s hard to
tell. Bruce wasn’t affected, but we
think he is immune to about everything short of the Black Plague. I’m voting for the water since they told us
there were issues with water in that area.
So that’s the story I’m sticking to.
There is a patrol cabin at Golden Lakes. The ranger came around to check on our permit
and to talk about the weather. The
forecast hadn’t gotten any better, still calling for heavy rain. Based on that, she was expecting the bridge
to wash out again. If that would happen,
our options were to wait a day for the river to go back down and then hopefully
cross or something else. What else, you
ask? Well, that depended. We might be able to ford the river, but that
didn’t sound too promising and she wasn’t recommending that. The problem at this point was our deadline
for finishing. We had flights on Monday
and our vehicle was parked at the northeast corner of the park. We didn’t have an extra day. If we went back the way we had come from and
took another trail down to a road, we would have to arrange for a ride all the
way back around the mountain. None of
these options were very exciting, but we didn’t have to make a decision until the
morning.
It began to rain later in the afternoon. It was then that we realized that how we had
pitched our tents was not wise. Bruce’s
tent was becoming an island due to the poor drainage at the site. I had always pictured the Pacific Northwest
as lush due to constant light rains.
While that may be true for some parts, it is not the case for the area
of Mt. Rainier. Sure, it was lush. However, the rain we experienced on this
particular day was more of the Midwest thunderstorm variety. The lightning was pretty close and the
torrential downpour flooded the low-lying areas of the campground, which
included a portion of our campsite. Bruce’s
tent got moved and restaked. There
wasn’t much else to do except hang out, which was fine with me. It rained for hours. We didn’t know how much rain they received,
but the 2 to 4 inches predicted seemed accurate. I hung out in my sleeping bag for 18 hours
less about 30 minutes for supper. It was
kind of hard. Both figuratively and
physically. And ground-wise. Tom and I had also pitched our tent slightly
uphill instead of the normal downhill.
For some reason, sleeping with your feet slightly higher than your head
is very uncomfortable and not recommended.
Six days down, cumulative mileage = 64.0 miles.
Friday morning. Decision
time. We got up early and I was never so
glad to crawl out of my sleeping bag. It
had been a long, restless night. We did
a quick, cold breakfast to get a quick start on the day. I was feeling better than the previous day,
but was still feeling somewhat weak. Tom
and Bruce added some of my gear and food to their packs to lighten mine, which
helped significantly. We stopped at the
patrol cabin to see what the ranger had to say about the bridge. She had little to say. Actually, I think we woke her up! It wasn’t that early, but I guess she had a
late night doing whatever rangers do at night.
She called down to a colleague at a different ranger station who checked
the river level. She reported back that
the river gauge showed the level to be the same as it had been the previous week
when the bridge washed out, with the assumption being that if it happened the
previous week, it would happen this time as well. Yet, we didn’t know for sure that it was
washed out. It was about six miles down
to the river. If we waited for someone
to go down and check, it would be afternoon before we would start. However, if we hiked down there and then had
to turn around and come back, it would be a 12 mile day in which we ended up
where we started. It really wasn’t a
hard decision. We set off through the
gloom toward the river.
Since we had a real objective and it was downhill, Tom and
Bruce quickly outdistanced me, vanishing within a couple of miles. That was actually part of my plan. I figured that if they went all the way down
and then found it was impassible, they would meet me on the way back up and I
would have saved myself a couple of miles.
The flaw in that plan was the amount of faith I was putting in
Bruce. A washed-out bridge would be
little more than a speed bump for Tom.
Even more likely was a scenario where he would relish the challenge of
crossing a raging, rain-swollen river with nothing more than a pocketknife and
a hundred yards of parachute cord. Bruce,
being older and wiser would probably require some duct tape as well before he
would make such a fool-hardy attempt.
As I was trudging down the endless switchbacks, I passed a
tree that had toppled, pulling up its roots.
Just past that, on the downhill side, something caught my eye. I turned to look and came face to face with a
bear! Well, it was kind of face to
face. It was about 20 feet away, 10 feet
up in a tree. Since it was on the
downhill side, we were actually at the same level. I looked at it and it looked at me and we
both got a little nervous. I thought
about pulling out my camera, but knew the bear would be long gone by the time I
got a picture. And no one would believe
me anyway. Also, I couldn’t be entirely
sure that it would run away, although it seemed to be looking to escape rather
than acting aggressive. So, I just kept
going. Shortly after that, I encountered
yet another pair of father/daughter hikers.
He was an older outdoorsman taking great pride in having crossed the
river without needing a bridge! So, yes,
the bridge was out. However, he had found
a way across with only getting one foot wet.
He had already informed Tom and Bruce (who by this time were a half mile
ahead of me) about the situation. It was
quite a relief to hear that. By this
point the goal of completing the entire trail was within reach. Plus, as previously mentioned, there was no
good way out of the park other than continuing on.
I finally reached the end of the endless switchbacks, which
really weren’t endless. The ranger told
us how many there were, but I didn’t record the number. I think it was something like 32. Or maybe 50!
Yeah, that’s more like it. 50
wet, soggy, treacherous switchbacks with huge, ferocious bears at every bend! Earlier in the trip we had met a couple who
had done the trail many times. He
claimed the best way to do it was clockwise.
He said it was easier going that direction for some reason. If I hadn’t doubted him before, I did
now. Those would have been killer
switchbacks for climbing 1,500 feet over about 2 miles.
 |
| Making our own bridge. |
Shortly after the switchbacks, I reached the river. And quite a river it was! Rain-swollen and raging, it was a formidable
barrier to the successful completion of our trip. Tom and Bruce had already scoped out the
situation and had discovered a way across. Although the large log that served as a bridge
had been swept to the side, there was another log that had been washed into the
riverbed from further up the mountain and had become temporary lodged across
the river, creating a perilous path to the other side. Tom and Bruce had already been across and
came back over to assist me, being still a little weak from the previous
day. With great determination and skill,
we worked our way across the log knowing that one false step could result in a
plunge into the icy river, a drop of at least 30 inches that could easily
result in being swept away to our death.
Or at least in getting our shoes wet.
After we crossed the main part of the river, we had to cross a few other
treacherous passages as this river was what they call a braided river, which
means there are several components that meander together and apart over a flat
riverbed. Overall, it made us feel like
real survivalists, although it is possible that the actual river wasn’t quite
as dangerous as it felt.
After crossing the South Mowich River, we had lunch at the
shelter of the campground located there and then proceeded to cross the North
Mowich River, which was not nearly as exciting.
Another 3 ½ miles of primarily uphill, gaining 2,000 feet of elevation
brought us to Mowich Lake, a certain amount of civilization and our final food
cache. The day had been cloudy and
dreary, much as I had envisioned the Pacific Northwest. There had been some rain, but now that we
were at the campground, the rain became steadier. Mowich Lake has direct access to the outside
world. In addition to a patrol cabin, it
had a parking lot, numerous “campsites” and real bathrooms. For such a beautiful area, the campsites were
pathetic. Instead of being placed around
the lake or at least among the trees, they are placed around the parking
lot. They were very small and bordered
by landscaping logs, which is probably to keep them dry, but just made them
look like small urban garden plots that you put a tent on. And a tent hardly fit on one. The fly ended up getting “staked” using
rocks. Sorry for the rant, but this is
completely unacceptable for such a major campground on a premier trail in a top
national park. It must have been
designed by Ranger Javert so as to keep hikers out of the natural setting!
The one thing this campground did have going for it was
excellent bathrooms. If you are
expecting bathrooms like you would find in a restaurant, you would be
disappointed, but for trail bathrooms, they were plush. First of all, there were two joined together
as one building. They appeared to be
some kind of prefab construction with concrete floors, metal doors and lots of
room inside. There was a covered and
partially enclosed concrete slab outside of the doors, which made an excellent
area to congregate and set your pack if you were trying to dry out and stay out
of the rain, which we were. They also
had some garbage containers in the area to help lighten our load. Even though the garbage we produce and carry
with us doesn’t weigh much, there is something psychological about dumping your
garbage in the trash can.
Since it was raining, there were a number of us gathered in
this area. The particular area seemed to
be popular with the weekend hiking group.
There is a nice 15 mile loop which is one of the few loops available in
the park. There was a group of three
young women who were preparing to take off for a weekend trip. We also met Redbeard, who we had passed on
Day 3 on the southeastern part of the park doing the trail in the opposite
direction that we were. He was a solo
hiker waiting for his wife to pick him up and take him to a restaurant before
coming back for the evening. However,
with the rain, he was also considering staying overnight in a motel and coming
back the next morning. Eventually, his
wife showed up and we never saw him again.
The odds are good that he secured a warm, dry place with showers to
spend the night.
As we were waiting for the rain to stop before setting up
our tents, three bedraggled hikers made their way into the camp. It was a father with his two daughters out
for a weekend getaway in celebration of his 60th birthday. They had started their trip earlier in the
day from the Mowich Lake entrance, about a 7 mile hike. They weren’t doing so well. They didn’t have proper rain gear and claimed
not to be in hiking shape. They were
very relieved to find a dry spot and spread their gear out over the entire
bathroom area, including in both bathrooms.
One might think that spreading your gear and wet clothes in a latrine is
not a good idea, and in most cases you would be correct. However, when you are cold and wet, your
concern about how your clothes smell is greatly diminished. We offered them some warm drinks and they
gratefully accepted.
After waiting for quite a while for the rain to stop, we
decided we would have to set up our tents in the rain. We were thankful that this was only the first
time this trip that we had to set them up in the rain and it really wasn’t much
worse than a drizzle. After figuring out
how to anchor the tents on the awkward raised sites, we retreated to the
shelter to prepare supper. The family
hikers then decided to put up their tent.
One of our group graciously offered his rain jacket to one of the women
who only had a hot pink down jacket that she had just bought. Since water and down don’t mix, she
gratefully accepted his offer and put the rain gear on over her down
jacket. They trouped out to their site
to set up the tent, which was also new, but the father had put up one time
before to make sure he knew how to do it.
Unfortunately with the rain, unfamiliarity with the tent and the
accursed raised campsites, it took them a long time to get the tent set
up. A very long time. But eventually they got it up and came back
to the shelter and returned the loaned raincoat. Later, the woman in the hot pink down jacket
was heard to mutter, “Whew, this jacket stinks!” Perhaps a bit like 7-days of Wonderland Trail
hiker? It was too bad that this was such
a lousy day. We had really formed a bit
of camaraderie there in the foyer of the latrines with the other groups that
came through. It would have been a good
night to sit around a campfire and talk.
Of course that wasn’t happening since there campfires were banned.
Seven days down, cumulative mileage = 74.5 miles.
 |
| Spray Falls |
Saturday morning was cloudy, but the rain had stopped. We started early as we had another monster
day in front of us. Remember the
adjustment to our reservations so we would have a shorter final day? Well, now we were facing the ramifications of
our decision. Most of the others in the
campground were taking their time, but we had places to go. The father & daughters group was much
refreshed and were enjoying their coffee.
Hopefully they can now look back on the trip fondly. At this point on the trail, hikers have a
choice. While the official Wonderland
Trail continues north before turning east, a common alternative is through
Spray Park, which dips south before turning east. The distance is about the same, but the Spray
Park Trail is a bit more scenic and includes an optional side trip to see Spray
Falls. We, of course, are all about
scenic side trips that lengthen our hikes, so that is the way we went. The falls were very nice and well worth the
extra effort. As opposed to a true
waterfall, this is more like a cascade.
The many rocks and falls give rise to the name. Tom and Bruce, of course, ventured farther up
the falls in search of better pictures.
I chose not to go too high knowing we had a lot of ground to cover and
not wanting to overwork my knee, which was still giving me problems.
 |
| Carbon River bridge |
After lunch, we crossed Carbon River, which included another
suspension bridge, somewhat smaller than the one across Mowich. At that point, you can look toward the
mountain and see Carbon Glacier, a very long glacier that has the distinction
of being the lowest elevation glacier in the lower 48 states. As we hiked along the glacier, we could hear
it crack as it slowly ground its way down the mountain. The glacier itself was rather ugly with a
layer of dirt on the top deep enough to support some type of vegetation. Soon we reached Dick Creek campground, which
had originally been our stopping point.
It was a very small campground with only two or three sites. At that point, nature was calling so I
stopped to use the latrine. Normally I
don’t report on this type of thing, but this had to be one of the most scenic
latrines in the world. It was a way off
the path, in a small clearing that overlooked the glacier. It was a great view somewhat tempered by the
seating arrangement. In my haste to try
to catch up with Tom and Bruce, I did not notice that my new water filter had
fallen out of my backpack. If you have
read about our previous adventure to Colorado, you might remember that my
filter had broken. I bought a new one
for this trip. And it looks like I will
buy a new one for the next trip.
 |
| Carbon Glacier |
The next 3.6 miles was a constant uphill, mainly following
the glacier. About half way up, I caught
up with Bruce who was waiting by a stream for me to bring the filter
along. As I was rooting through my
backpack, I realized what must have happened to the filter. It was too far to go back and I wasn’t
entirely sure that the filter was there.
So, we continued the climb. There
were a couple of other travelers on this part of the trail. One in particular who was heading in the same
direction was a younger guy with a foreign accent. It turned out that he was originally from an
Eastern Europe country but now lived in Seattle. He and a co-worker decided to hike the whole
trail in about 5 days. It wasn’t going
well. Not being experienced backpackers,
they made sure they had plenty of supplies.
While not necessarily a bad idea, they really had plenty of
supplies. Their packs were huge. And heavy.
I’m guessing 50 lbs heavy. This
hiker also did not have trekking poles.
Realizing that would have made the hike easier, he picked up some hefty
branches that he was trying to use like walking sticks. I’m not sure that made it any better. They also did not have permits, so they were
making stealth campsites and trying to avoid rangers and patrol cabins. Even though they were in their 20’s, they
were moving rather slowly. We
leapfrogged each other a couple of times as I was trying to nurse my sore knee
along. At one point as I was passing
him, he said he was tired and was going to take a nap right there on the
trail. The other guys encouraged his
friend, who was quite a ways in front that maybe they needed to abandon their
quest. They weren’t prepared and didn’t
have the right equipment. Oh, to be
young, carefree and stupid again!
 |
| Mystic Campsite |
I finally arrived at Mystic Campground around 6:30,
exhausted. Mystic is a very nice
campground in a pine forest. As such, it
is a little damp, but very nice in spite of that with a stream flowing along
the edge. As we finished setting up
camp, the local ranger stopped by. I
mentioned my water filter and he confirmed that it must have fallen out at Dick
Creek. He had found it and had left it
there, figuring it belonged to someone at that campground. We still had a couple of options for
water. We had plenty of fuel, so we
could boil water. Tom had also brought
some water purification chemicals, which he was dying to try out. OK, maybe not dying, but he was excited. We filled some Nalgenes with water from the
nearby creek and Tom played chemist, mixing the chemicals and then stirring
them into the water. After 25 minutes,
the water was purified. At least that
was what the instructions said. Somehow
the filter seems safer, not to mention more conventional. The water didn’t taste bad, a definite
improvement over the old iodine tablets.
In the ultralight quest that Tom was on, the chemicals seem to be
superior. The main advantage to using a
filter is to eliminate any solids from the water. The chemicals don’t help in that area. The other advantage is the speed and
flexibility of being able to filter however much water you need and doing it on
the go. If I have to keep buying new
filters for each trip, I may become a chemical convert.
As we sat around on the last night on the trail, we talked
about why we backpack. The revelations
in this conversation explain a lot about our adventures. Tom likes the challenge of getting by with
less and less. That explains why he went
the entire trip with only one set of clothes.
Someday pursuing that goal may come back to bite him, but so far he has
been successful. Cutting the pack weight
also enables him to retain the title of fastest hiker, bringing with it all the
advantages such as surprising more wildlife and selecting campsites. Bruce is currently searching for reason to
hike. His old reason was to get away
from the stresses of his life, but now that he is “retired” there seems to be
less of that. I enjoy getting away from
all the responsibilities and stresses of life.
It’s a good time to refocus and spend hours on end just thinking and
communing with the Lord. In a way, it is
like fasting even though you are eating.
Eight days down, cumulative mileage = 87.8 miles.
 |
| Looking Fresh with Rainier in the background. |
The last morning. The
bad weather system had completely vacated the area and the cool morning became
sunny and started warming up. Since we
were approaching the completion of the trip, our spirits were high. We had just one large uphill climb and then
it was relatively flat the rest of the way.
Another group comprised of two couples were heading in the same
direction. I ended up lagging behind
them a little as Tom and Bruce raced off toward the end. I was looking forward to the end of the trip. My knee was giving me serious trouble. I had broken down and taken some ibuprofen
that Bruce offered. It helped a little,
but the only thing that was really going to fix it was to get the 30 lbs off my
back! We skirted the last glacier,
picking our way across the broad creek bed and began the climb. We caught up with another group who had been
passed by Tom and Bruce about a half hour before. The climb was about 2 miles where we gained
1,800 feet, a fitting way to conclude the trip.
Soon after, we came to Skyscraper Pass, a popular destination for
day-hikers from Sunrise. There is a
beautiful unobstructed view of the northeast side of Rainier. When I got there, Tom and Bruce were there as
were some other groups, including our overloaded young friends. Another group of couples were doing a small
extended weekend loop. When we said we
were doing the whole trail, they asked how long we had been out. When they heard this was our 9th
and final day, they were incredulous.
“But, you look so fresh!” I’m not
sure we felt very “fresh” but it was good to know we looked at least halfway
presentable to other hikers. We spied
some mountain goats on a rock formation not far from the pass. I had hoped to see more wildlife on the trip,
but perhaps I would have seen more if I hadn’t always been looking down at the
trail. On the other hand, if I hadn’t
been looking down at the trail, I probably would have ended up with more
serious problems.
 |
| The only mountain goat we saw the entire trip. |
We continued on our way through a high, level alpine meadow,
encountering more and more dayhikers out for a Sunday morning hike. It was beautiful weather with a tremendous
view of the mountain. We also
encountered a weekend ranger. He looked
official, but had a special badge stating that he was an auxiliary
officer. He was very talkative; the kind
of guy who has all day and thinks you do to.
However, we were on a mission.
His phone rang with some important official business and we were off toward
the end of our trail at Sunrise. It
would be more fitting to say we ended at Sunset, but we were more interested in
the actual ending rather than a poetic one.
We soon reached a junction of trails leading off in 5 directions. We meaning Tom and Bruce. I was once again lagging behind figuring it
wouldn’t help my knee to try to stay up with them. Another of the weekend rangers was at the
junction and recommended taking the upper trail which he said was the most
popular. And was it ever! The next two miles was a steady stream of
dayhikers of all varieties. There were
many families with very small children, older people, and people dressed like
they had just come from Sunday brunch at the club. Fighting the urge to display my hiking
superiority, I made a point of saying, “Hi” to as many as would acknowledge
me. Bruce at this particular point was
lagging behind me by a dozen yards or so.
There was one older particularly well-dressed couple who passed me. As they did, she cringed, suddenly shaking
her head. “What’s the matter?” her
husband inquired. “Did you swallow a
bug?” “No,” she replied. “Stinks.” “The bug stinks?” asked her husband. “No!” she replied with some fervor. “That guy stinks!” referring to me! Imagine that.
Evidently a few splash baths over 8 days didn’t do the trick. How quickly one can go from fresh to
stinking!
 |
| The End of the Trail |
The end was now in sight.
The stream of dayhikers was constant.
One of my favorites was a family with a teen-age daughter who was
evidently not keen on this particular family activity. She was obviously exhausted as evidenced by
the painful way she drug her feet. “Are
we almost there?” she wailed. “No,” her
father replied, “We just started.” They
were still within sight of the parking lot.
The parking lot looked a lot different than when we had left 9 days
before. It was a hub of activity, full
of cars and people. We made someone very
happy as we vacated a prime parking spot.
As we left the park, we made the traditional obligatory call to our
parents to announce that somehow we had survived again! By we, I mean Tom and me. I think Bruce’s mom is more accustomed to his
adventures and wouldn’t consider a domestic hiking trip all that worthy of
worry.
Nine days down, cumulative mileage = 97.0 miles
 |
| Seattle with Olympic National Park in the background. |
On the way back to Seattle we stopped at an outdoor biker’s
bar for lunch. Accepting the fact that
we were “stinky” we were looking for a place where our poor hygiene would not
cause concern. Tom commented that it was
the most comfortable he had ever been in a biker bar. Kind of makes one wonder how often he
frequents them. We debated about
preserving our week plus facial hair for another day, but each one of us
independently decided it was better to end that part of the adventure, helped
by a view in the mirror. Evidently we
are not beard people. After some nice
showers and general clean-up, we met up with Bruce’s sister and brother-in-law
who happened to be in town for a nice dinner in downtown Seattle. Unfortunately, the famed Pike’s Fish Market
was almost abandoned since it was Sunday.
It would have been nice to see it in operation. The following morning we met my former
roommate and current Seattleite, Ben. An
uneventful flight home brought this very long adventure to a successful
conclusion. Thanks for reading the whole
journal. I hope it was worth the time
and effort.
