This hike happened in the Fall of 2005, about the time hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans.
For the past two years, my friend, Matt Powell, and I have been planning to hike the Wonderland Trail. Let me clarify. We haven’t been planning for two years, per se; we planned on hiking it two years ago; that fell through. Then, we planned on hiking it last year, and that fell through. Well, I think we’re finally going to do it. Date of departure is September 1st. Matt has actually purchased his plane ticket to get him here to his old stomping grounds, so it looks like it will be a reality this time around. You know what they say about that third time.
Matt is scheduled to arrive Tuesday, August 30th, in the evening. Wednesday will be a full day, as we have several last-minute preparations.
First, we’ll go to the Wilderness Information Center at Longmire, just inside the Nisqually entrance to Mount Rainier National Park (located in its southwest corner) to set up our itinerary for the hike. There are 40 backcountry campsites inside the park (18 along the Wonderland Trail), some of which will have already been completely booked via reservations. We will work with a park employee at Longmire to figure out which sites are available along the trail during our two-week hike. We’ll need to be somewhat flexible, but shouldn’t have any trouble finding places to camp.
Next, we’ll leave some supplies at strategic locations around the park. Although it's possible to carry a two-week supply of food in a large backpack, it's also possible to re-supply at a couple spots around Mount Rainier. This makes for lighter backpacks, easier hiking, and a more enjoyable trip. We'll leave a 5-gallon bucket right there at Longmire which we will use for re-supply 4 or 5 days later [We ended up using other Tupperware-type containers.]. Then, we’ll proceed to Sunrise, on the east side of the park, and drop off another bucket of food, which will be our second and final re-supply on the hike.
Last, we’ll head back to Tacoma, pick up any last-minute items at REI, and go home and prepare our equipment, making sure to pack everything properly and not leave anything out. We’ll leave early the next morning for Mowich Lake, our jumping-off point.
Photos of the Hike
Wednesday, April 30, 2014
The Wonderland Trail
In the northwestern-most part of the United States (excluding Alaska), in the great state of Washington, sits a breathtaking mountain (even to those of us who have lived here for decades): Mount Rainier. Mount Rainier is the 5th tallest mountain in the lower 48. It also happens to be an active volcano. There are many other mountains found in the Cascade Range that qualify as volcanoes, too, such as Mount Adams and Mount St. Helens. The list numbers over 25 and the mountains stretch all the way up into British Columbia and down into Oregon and California. Mount Rainier is about 40 miles from Tacoma, as the crow flies, and about a 60-mile drive to the Nisqually entrance, located in the southwestern corner. That puts it about a two-and-a-half hour drive from Seattle-Tacoma International Airport, for those of you who might be coming from out of town to visit it.
The main destinations for visitors are Paradise, on the south side of the mountain, and Sunrise, on the northeast side. There are myriad day hikes starting at either of these locations. Another popular tourist or weekend activity is simply driving around the mountain and enjoying it from every angle. You can stop at numerous pullouts around the park and do a short day hike, or begin a longer hike, lasting an entire day or weekend.
The Wonderland Trail is a 93-mile-long trail that encircles Mount Rainier. Most people hike it in a week-and-a-half, or so, whereas others “hike” it in as little as a day (quite rare, I do believe—that amounts to jogging at almost 4 miles-per-hour for 24 hours!!!), or as much as a couple weeks. Since I am incapable of circumambulating this behemoth in a couple days, and wouldn’t want to kill myself trying, I figured I may as well take my time and enjoy it. We are going to take two weeks, starting on September 1st and ending on September 14th. By the time we’re done, we will have hiked well over 100 miles, including several day hikes that we will intersperse with the Wonderland Trail, itself. We will start at Mowich Lake (located in the northwest corner of the park), hiking counterclockwise (opposite the direction of most hikers), re-supplying at Longmire and Sunrise, and then ending up back at Mowich Lake (hopefully).
Some of possible day hikes we're looking forward to are Mirror Lakes (west side), Pinnacle Peak (south side), and Burroughs Mountain (near Sunrise on the east side). In the Mirror Lakes area (Indian Henry's Hunting Ground), we would like, in particular, to climb to the top of Pyramid Peak and explore Success Divide. We're also looking forward to exploring various aspects of glaciers, of which there are 26 named examples, and which cover some 36 square miles of the park. We'll try not to fall into any crevasses.
Photos of the Hike
The main destinations for visitors are Paradise, on the south side of the mountain, and Sunrise, on the northeast side. There are myriad day hikes starting at either of these locations. Another popular tourist or weekend activity is simply driving around the mountain and enjoying it from every angle. You can stop at numerous pullouts around the park and do a short day hike, or begin a longer hike, lasting an entire day or weekend.
The Wonderland Trail is a 93-mile-long trail that encircles Mount Rainier. Most people hike it in a week-and-a-half, or so, whereas others “hike” it in as little as a day (quite rare, I do believe—that amounts to jogging at almost 4 miles-per-hour for 24 hours!!!), or as much as a couple weeks. Since I am incapable of circumambulating this behemoth in a couple days, and wouldn’t want to kill myself trying, I figured I may as well take my time and enjoy it. We are going to take two weeks, starting on September 1st and ending on September 14th. By the time we’re done, we will have hiked well over 100 miles, including several day hikes that we will intersperse with the Wonderland Trail, itself. We will start at Mowich Lake (located in the northwest corner of the park), hiking counterclockwise (opposite the direction of most hikers), re-supplying at Longmire and Sunrise, and then ending up back at Mowich Lake (hopefully).
Some of possible day hikes we're looking forward to are Mirror Lakes (west side), Pinnacle Peak (south side), and Burroughs Mountain (near Sunrise on the east side). In the Mirror Lakes area (Indian Henry's Hunting Ground), we would like, in particular, to climb to the top of Pyramid Peak and explore Success Divide. We're also looking forward to exploring various aspects of glaciers, of which there are 26 named examples, and which cover some 36 square miles of the park. We'll try not to fall into any crevasses.
Photos of the Hike
Planning
Right now, we’re planning what to take, what not to take, what to see, what not to see (most interesting spots at the top of the list, stuff at the bottom of the list eliminated based on time limits), and ideal schedule. The final schedule will be determined only the day before the hike when we talk to the officials.
Unfortunately, crosscountry camping is permitted only for those hiking less than two thirds of the Wonderland Trail. There are two primary ways to camp when hiking in Mount Rainier National Park. First, and most common, is simply to use the backcountry camps scattered throughout the park. These have nice, clean, flat areas in which to pitch your tent, a natural john (i.e., pit toilet), bear poles (for storing food), and a nearby water source. Another option is crosscountry camping, where you can camp off the beaten path. In the past, hikers have abused the rules and now the rest of us get to pay for it. Crosscountry camping requires camping at least ¼ mile from the trail and 100 feet from any water source. Hikers who were hiking the Wonderland Trail in the past apparently were too tired to hike another ¼ mile and so got in the habit of camping right off the main trail or too near water sources. Now, crosscountry camping is allowed only for hikers on shorter hikes. This is a big disappointment as there were a few spots in particular where I wanted to camp (e.g., the plateau just below Pyramid Peak), but now won’t be able to.
Through research on the Internet, reading books, and talking to friends, I am trying to determine what kind of food to take (and how much), how much fuel to take, what clothing to take, and what kind of clothing to leave behind. This question is a tricky one because the weather around Mount Rainier can change rapidly. It can be sunny one moment and begin to rain or snow in short order. If the forecast a few days before we are to leave looks iffy, we'll probably take some heavier clothing and more rain gear. If the forecast is rock solid, we'll probably go lighter with less protection against harsh weather.
To-do list:
Torso Length: 17.5" to 18.5"
Hip Length: 29.5" to 30.0"
Height: 5' 9''
Weight: 130 lb.
Brandon at first suggested I try the REI Mars Pack; he gave me the item number so I could check it out while talking to him.
I then asked him what he thought about the Gregory Whitney Pack. He said that was a good one, and that he was about to suggest a Gregory pack next.
I told him that I was advised to get a pack with easy access pockets on the sides, which this model provides.
I then asked if there were any others he might suggest. He suggested the Gregory Palisade Pack.
He then suggested I buy two of them to try them on, and return the other when I got to Seattle. I asked which two he thought I should check out. He recommended the REI Mars and Gregory Whitney, since the Gregory Palisade did not really have any extra side pockets.
I told him I would take him up on his suggestion. I then asked him which size I should get, taking into account my dimensions. At first, he suggested the REI Mars in LARGE, and the Gregory Whitney in Medium. I then told him my weight, and that I was smaller than average, and I wanted to make sure that he still felt that LARGE was an appropriate size for the first pack. He changed his mind, and suggested I get both in MEDIUM.
I also ordered a large REI Duck's Back Rain Cover and a Medium REI accessory pocket.
Communications between Matt and me, for your edification:
08/03/2005—e-mail to Matt
Got all the freeze dried food, hot chocolate, oatmeal, and a container of lemonade mix last night. I also got titanium cookware, titanium fork/spoon (already have lexan fork/spoon), two water bottles, and fuel (4x). We’ll go to Fred Meyer when you get here and you can pick out whatever cream of wheat you like.
We’ll start with two fuel canisters, and pick up one at each re-supply stop. We’ll also re-supply freeze dried dinners, oatmeal, cream of wheat, and other food.
I was going to get three containers of drink mix (e.g., Cool Aid), but thought that it was silly to carry all that extra weight, even if we could leave one at each re-supply stop. I think we should just leave the one at the first re-supply stop. That way, we can enjoy a little variety in the middle part of the hike.
I already have my water bottles, so the two new ones are yours.
I was thinking about getting a new water filtration system, but decided that it would be a waste of money. I’ve got a good one already (MSR WaterWorks), so we’ll just use that, with iodine tablets for particularly nasty looking water.
Photos of the Hike
Unfortunately, crosscountry camping is permitted only for those hiking less than two thirds of the Wonderland Trail. There are two primary ways to camp when hiking in Mount Rainier National Park. First, and most common, is simply to use the backcountry camps scattered throughout the park. These have nice, clean, flat areas in which to pitch your tent, a natural john (i.e., pit toilet), bear poles (for storing food), and a nearby water source. Another option is crosscountry camping, where you can camp off the beaten path. In the past, hikers have abused the rules and now the rest of us get to pay for it. Crosscountry camping requires camping at least ¼ mile from the trail and 100 feet from any water source. Hikers who were hiking the Wonderland Trail in the past apparently were too tired to hike another ¼ mile and so got in the habit of camping right off the main trail or too near water sources. Now, crosscountry camping is allowed only for hikers on shorter hikes. This is a big disappointment as there were a few spots in particular where I wanted to camp (e.g., the plateau just below Pyramid Peak), but now won’t be able to.
Through research on the Internet, reading books, and talking to friends, I am trying to determine what kind of food to take (and how much), how much fuel to take, what clothing to take, and what kind of clothing to leave behind. This question is a tricky one because the weather around Mount Rainier can change rapidly. It can be sunny one moment and begin to rain or snow in short order. If the forecast a few days before we are to leave looks iffy, we'll probably take some heavier clothing and more rain gear. If the forecast is rock solid, we'll probably go lighter with less protection against harsh weather.
To-do list:
- Buy 2 five-gallon buckets (or similar storage containers) for re-supply
- Buy freeze dried food ü
- Buy hot chocolate packets ü
- Buy instant oatmeal packets—Jay's breakfast ü
- Buy cream of wheat packets—Matt's breakfast ü
- Buy 2 additional water bottles ü
- Titanium cookware ü
- Fuel canisters ü
- Test stove ü
- Get extra lighter
- Get water filter in good working order ü
Torso Length: 17.5" to 18.5"
Hip Length: 29.5" to 30.0"
Height: 5' 9''
Weight: 130 lb.
Brandon at first suggested I try the REI Mars Pack; he gave me the item number so I could check it out while talking to him.
I then asked him what he thought about the Gregory Whitney Pack. He said that was a good one, and that he was about to suggest a Gregory pack next.
I told him that I was advised to get a pack with easy access pockets on the sides, which this model provides.
I then asked if there were any others he might suggest. He suggested the Gregory Palisade Pack.
He then suggested I buy two of them to try them on, and return the other when I got to Seattle. I asked which two he thought I should check out. He recommended the REI Mars and Gregory Whitney, since the Gregory Palisade did not really have any extra side pockets.
I told him I would take him up on his suggestion. I then asked him which size I should get, taking into account my dimensions. At first, he suggested the REI Mars in LARGE, and the Gregory Whitney in Medium. I then told him my weight, and that I was smaller than average, and I wanted to make sure that he still felt that LARGE was an appropriate size for the first pack. He changed his mind, and suggested I get both in MEDIUM.
I also ordered a large REI Duck's Back Rain Cover and a Medium REI accessory pocket.
Communications between Matt and me, for your edification:
08/03/2005—e-mail to Matt
- I think I told you that I bought a new sleeping bag. You can use my old one if you want. It’s not bad. Not too big and heavy. It’s synthetic.
- What are you bringing? What are you planning on buying here? It would be good for me to know. It might help with the planning. Some of what you need, I might be able to get for you ahead of time…like the sleeping bag, a backpack, etc.
- I’ll plan on having food all lined up before you get here. I’m going to get freeze dried food for our dinners. They’re not cheap, but I think it will be worth it at the end of each long, hard day. What are your preferences? You can see them all on Rei’s website. I’ll probably get a variety for myself, such as beef, chicken, Mexican, and pasta. Are those okay with you?
- Should I pick up a couple extra water bottles for you? There’s probably no point in bringing those. If I buy a couple extras for you, I’ll probably just keep them. I don’t mind having extras, and you probably don’t want to bother carrying them back with you. Let me know.
- I just got a couple two-way radios that we can take with us to chat if we’re apart for a bit. Should be fun.
- I’ve got the tent (REI Half Dome)
- You might want a small pillow and you will definitely want a sleeping pad. I could probably borrow a pad for you. Let me know.
- Start making a list of what you have, what you want to buy for yourself there in Florida, what you want to buy for yourself after you get here, and what you want to borrow, or have me borrow for you. That’s something I should get on top of right away.
- Your choice of food sounds good to me.
- I will try to get a list ready this weekend.
- Your water bottle idea sounds okay with me. I usually buy bottled water here, so I don't really need a water bottle.
- I plan on buying the backpack and sleeping bag; however, I was told by an experienced hiker that I should try on the backpack, or have one fitted for me, since my frame is smaller than the average man.
- Also, I was advised that we could take some good food the first night, by freezing it in zip-loc bags. That way, we could have steak, chicken, or spaghetti the first night.
Got all the freeze dried food, hot chocolate, oatmeal, and a container of lemonade mix last night. I also got titanium cookware, titanium fork/spoon (already have lexan fork/spoon), two water bottles, and fuel (4x). We’ll go to Fred Meyer when you get here and you can pick out whatever cream of wheat you like.
We’ll start with two fuel canisters, and pick up one at each re-supply stop. We’ll also re-supply freeze dried dinners, oatmeal, cream of wheat, and other food.
I was going to get three containers of drink mix (e.g., Cool Aid), but thought that it was silly to carry all that extra weight, even if we could leave one at each re-supply stop. I think we should just leave the one at the first re-supply stop. That way, we can enjoy a little variety in the middle part of the hike.
I already have my water bottles, so the two new ones are yours.
I was thinking about getting a new water filtration system, but decided that it would be a waste of money. I’ve got a good one already (MSR WaterWorks), so we’ll just use that, with iodine tablets for particularly nasty looking water.
Photos of the Hike
Gear
Jay's Gear List
Clothing
This list will undoubtedly change as the hike draws nearer, but it probably isn’t too terribly far off. I’ll adjust it as I go.
Matt's gear list, as of Sunday, August 28th, 2005
Still Need:
Photos of the Hike
Clothing
- Shoes
- Sandals
- Capilene Socks
- Capilene Boxers
- Capilene shirts
- Waterproof windbreaker
- Heavy fleece jacket
- Zip-off pants
- Fleece hat
- Instant oatmeal
- Cream of wheat
- Raisins for oatmeal
- Hot chocolate
- Cheese, crackers, salami
- Freeze dried meals
- Flavored dink mix
- Backpack
- Daypack/camera pack
- Water filter/iodine tablets
- Water bottles
- Tent
- Sleeping bag
- Sleeping mat
- Pillow
- Sunglasses
- Sunscreen
- Vaseline
- Contact lenses
- Handi wipes
- Brunton Crux stove
- Fuel (4 8-oz. canisters)
- Pan/cup/spoon/fork
- Pocket knife
- Headlamp + extra batteries (Petzl Duo--halogen w/4 C-cells)
- Toilet paper
- First aid kit
- Map
- Compass (Silva 15)
- Deet
- Toothbrush & toothpaste
- Albuterol breather
- Fingernail clippers
- Tweezers
- Rope / twine
- Tarp
- Duct tape
- MP3 player/recorder for voice notes
- Gitzo G-1227 tripod and Arca Swiss Monoball ballhead
- Maxxum 5D body w/neckstrap + QR plate
- Lenses (Sigma 12-24, Minolta f/2.8 50mm Macro, Minolta 70-200mm f/2.8 SSM)
- 2 4-gigabyte memory cards (Lexar 80X + SanDisk)
- 5 batteries
- Cable release (Minolta RC-1000S)
- Minolta SRT-101 w/28mm lens + QR plate
- Fujichrome Velvia 100F film
- Lens cloth
- Lens brush
This list will undoubtedly change as the hike draws nearer, but it probably isn’t too terribly far off. I’ll adjust it as I go.
Matt's gear list, as of Sunday, August 28th, 2005
Still Need:
- Water
- Food
- Cooking Gear
- Map
- Waterproof Matches
- Insect Repellent
- Sunscreen
- Toilet Paper
- Zip-lock Bags
- First Aid Kit
- Patagonia Capilene NVY M's CAP MW Crew 5.1 oz
- Patagonia Capilene EW STRETCH ZIP-T 9.5 oz
- Therm-a-Rest Prolite 3 Sleeping Pad 20 oz
- Therm-a-Rest Prolite 3 Stuff Sack 0.5 oz
- The North Face Beeline 900 Sleeping Bag 9 oz
- Gregory Whitney Pack 113 oz
- REI Duck's Back Rain Cover 8.6 oz
- Medium REI Accessory Pocket 2.6 oz
- Leki Super Makalu Anti-Shock Trekking Poles 21.7 oz
- Garmin GPSMAP 76cs 7.6 oz
- Garmin Nylon Carrying Case for Garmin 76s 2.6 oz
- Patagonia Capilene EUC M'S CAP BOXER BRIEF 7.6 oz
- Patagonia Capilene BLK M'S CAP BOXER BRIEF 7.6 oz
- Patagonia Capilene BLK M'S CAP BOXER BRIEF 7.6 oz
- Patagonia Capilene BLK M'S CAP LW T-SHIRT 4.5 oz
- Patagonia Capilene NFX M'S CAP LW T-SHIRT 4.5 oz
- Patagonia Capilene ALG M'S CAP LW T-SHIRT 4.5 oz
- Patagonia Capilene BLK M'S CAP LW ZIP-T 7.0 oz
- Patagonia Capilene BLK M'S CAP SILKWT BOTTOMS 5.0 oz
- Patagonia Capilene BLK M'S CAP SILKWT T-SHIRT 4.0 oz
- Patagonia Capilene LOD M'S RADIANT JKT 21.0 oz
- Patagonia Capilene TRX CAP SILKWT HIKING CREW LINER 1.5 oz
- Patagonia Capilene TRX CAP SILKWT HIKING CREW LINER 1.5 oz
- Patagonia Capilene TRX CAP SILKWT HIKING CREW LINER 1.5 oz
- Patagonia Capilene TRX CAP SILKWT HIKING CREW LINER 1.5 oz
- Patagonia Capilene TRX CAP SILKWT HIKING CREW LINER 1.5 oz
- Patagonia Capilene TRX CAP SILKWT HIKING CREW LINER 1.5 oz
- Patagonia Capilene PRB CAP MW HIKING CREW SOCKS 2.0 oz
- Patagonia Capilene CHR CAP MW HIKING CREW SOCKS 2.0 oz
- Patagonia Capilene SAG CAP MW HIKING CREW SOCKS 2.0 oz
- Patagonia Capilene LTH CAP EW HIKING CREW SOCKS 4.0 oz
- Patagonia Capilene BLK CAP EW STR GLOVE LINERS 1.0 oz
- Patagonia Capilene BLK CAP LW GLOVE LINERS 1.5 oz
- Mountain Hardwear Convertible Pack Pants ? oz
- REI Convertible Sahara Pants ? oz
- Arc'teryz Alpha SL Jacket 12.1 oz
- Arc'teryx Alpha SL Pant 8.2 oz
- Mountain Hardwear Dome Perignon Hat BLACK SMALL ? oz
- Buff Black Polar ? oz
- Buff National Geographic ? oz
- Buff Denim Blue ? oz
- LLBean Cresta Hiker's Boots ? oz
- Bible
- REI Camp MultiTowel 8 oz
- MSR PackTowl Personal Body Towel 4 oz
- Dr. Bronners Bar Soap 5 oz
- Campsuds 2 oz
- Dr. Bronners Mild Liquid Soap 4 oz
- Q-tips
- Tweezers
- Comb
- Nail Clippers
- Tooth Brush
- Tooth Paste
Photos of the Hike
Biographies
My name is Jay Williams, I'm 36, have a BS in Computer Science (Saint Martin's College, 1994), and work for a Software Consulting firm in Seattle called Avanade. I've always enjoyed the outdoors, but have never attempted anything on the scale of a two-week hiking trip. When I was younger, I snow skied, water skied, played volleyball, softball, football (all casually throughout high school), and soccer in eighth grade. When I was a teenager, I tore ligaments in my left knee snow skiing, and that knee has never been the same. That is my biggest concern for this hike.
Photos of the Hike
I got into photography about 7 years ago and am very involved with it. It's probably my longest running hobby (and most expensive hobby, if only by a small margin). I actually even do it on a part-time, professional basis (see my photography website). That explains why I'm taking such a big pile of camera equipment.
I met Matthew Powell back in 1993, a couple years after he joined the Navy (1991) and was stationed in Bremerton Naval Shipyard. He was in the Navy and lived in Washington for 6 years. Matt was a Reactor Operator (with an Electronics Technician rating) on the USS Nimitz, CVN68.
We spent a lot of time together during his stay in Washington, hiking, playing volleyball, walleyball, and doing various and sundry other activities together.
After he was discharged from the Navy (quite honorably, I might add), he went to college at Cedarville University in Cedarville, Ohio, (much closer to his home in Fort Wayne, Indiana) double majoring in Computer Science and math. Matt is a glutton for punishment (I'm hoping he'll agree to be my Sherpa on this hike). He has since worked in both Ohio and Florida (his current home) for Northrop Grumman, famed maker of many military systems and components of systems, such as the A-10 Warthog, Aegis destroyer, and B-2 Stealth Bomber.
Matt is planning on moving back to Washington some day, and this hike may be just the impetus he needs to get it done.
We spent a lot of time together during his stay in Washington, hiking, playing volleyball, walleyball, and doing various and sundry other activities together.
After he was discharged from the Navy (quite honorably, I might add), he went to college at Cedarville University in Cedarville, Ohio, (much closer to his home in Fort Wayne, Indiana) double majoring in Computer Science and math. Matt is a glutton for punishment (I'm hoping he'll agree to be my Sherpa on this hike). He has since worked in both Ohio and Florida (his current home) for Northrop Grumman, famed maker of many military systems and components of systems, such as the A-10 Warthog, Aegis destroyer, and B-2 Stealth Bomber.
Matt is planning on moving back to Washington some day, and this hike may be just the impetus he needs to get it done.
Photos of the Hike
Lingo
| Word | Definition |
|---|---|
| Cairn | A heap of stones piled up as a memorial or as a landmark. |
| Peak | 1 : The top of a hill or mountain ending in a point. 2 : A prominent mountain usually having a well-defined summit. |
| Valley | 1 : An elongate depression of the earth's surface usually between ranges of hills or mountains. 2 : An area drained by a river and its tributaries. |
| Ridge | An elongate crest or a linear series of crests. |
| Outcropping | A coming out of bedrock or of an unconsolidated deposit to the surface of the ground. |
| Moraine | An accumulation of earth and stones carried and finally deposited by a glacier. |
| Saddle | 1 : A ridge connecting two higher elevations. 2 : A pass in a mountain range. |
| Glacier | A large body of ice moving slowly down a slope or valley or spreading outward on a land surface. |
| Crevasse | A deep crevice or fissure as in a glacier or the earth. |
| Scree | An accumulation of loose stones or rocky debris lying on a slope or at the base of a hill or cliff. |
| Talus | 1 : A slope formed especially by an accumulation of rock debris. 2 : Rock debris at the base of a cliff. |
Photos of the Hike
Sun & Moon
| Day | Sunrise | Sunset | Moonrise | Moonset |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| 9/1/2005 | 0629 | 1949 | 0400 | 1928 |
| 9/2/2005 | 0631 | 1947 | 0508 | 1946 |
| 9/3/2005 | 0632 | 1945 | 0616 | 2001 |
| 9/4/2005 | 0633 | 1943 | 0723 | 2015 |
| 9/5/2005 | 0635 | 1941 | 0830 | 2029 |
| 9/6/2005 | 0636 | 1939 | 0938 | 2044 |
| 9/7/2005 | 0637 | 1937 | 1048 | 2101 |
| 9/8/2005 | 0639 | 1935 | 1202 | 2122 |
| 9/9/2005 | 0640 | 1933 | 1318 | 2149 |
| 9/10/2005 | 0641 | 1931 | 1435 | 2226 |
| 9/11/2005 | 0642 | 1929 | 1548 | 2317 |
| 9/12/2005 | 0644 | 1927 | 1650 | 2425 |
| 9/13/2005 | 0645 | 1925 | 1739 | |
| 9/14/2005 | 0646 | 1923 | 1815 | 0146 |
Photos of the Hike
Itinerary
| Day | Destination |
|---|---|
| 9/1/2005 | Start at Mowich Lake |
| 9/1/2005 | Camp at Mowich River Camp |
| 9/2/2005 | Camp at Golden Lakes Camp |
| 9/3/2005 | Camp at Klapatche Park Camp |
| 9/4/2005 | Hike to Tokaloo Rock and up the Puyallup Cleaver |
| 9/4/2005 | Camp at Klapatche Park Camp |
| 9/5/2005 | Camp at Devil's Dream Camp |
| 9/6/2005 | Hike to Pyramid Peak and around the Success Divide area |
| 9/6/2005 | Camp at Devil's Dream Camp |
| 9/7/2005 | Camp at Snow Lake Camp |
| 9/8/2005 | Camp at Olallie Creek Camp |
| 9/9/2005 | Camp at Summerland Camp |
| 9/10/2005 | Camp at Glacier Basin Camp |
| 9/11/2005 | Hike to Steamboat Prow and in the area |
| 9/11/2005 | Camp at Glacier Basin Camp |
| 9/12/2005 | Camp at Mystic Lake Camp |
| 9/13/2005 | Camp at Eagle's Roost Camp |
| 9/14/2005 | End at Mowich Lake |
Photos of the Hike
September 1st—Mowich Lake to Mowich River
Well, the big day is finally here. After a couple years of talking, we're finally going. Although we're not in a big hurry on the first day, I'm up at 7:00. I guess I'm used to getting up at 5:15 for work, and with the excitement of the first day, just can't sleep any more. I get up, shower, and begin making some last-minute preparations. I want to make sure I don't forget anything important and that all my gear is in order. Since I'm not planning on going alone, I figure I ought to get Matt up. He's not asleep, but I tell him to get his rear out of bed so we can get going.
We'll be doing a short hike today, only about three-and-a-half miles, from Mowich Lake, where we'll leave my Ford F-250, to Mowich River Camp, just past the North Mowich River, right on the South Mowich River. It will take us about an hour-and-a-half to drive there from Tacoma, and I want to get off to a good start. After Matt's up and at 'em, we get the last few items secured, loaded, and bolted on to our packs.
Matt suggests it might be a good idea to do short hike around the neighborhood with our full and final packs just to make sure the weight is not outlandish. After all, I am carrying 15 pounds of camera gear. I'm not sure why Matt thinks I might want to leave some of it at home. I realize I would just be kicking myself the whole way if I didn't have my favorite lenses and accessories. I guess we'll see about that. After the test hike, I claim that I will be able to survive our 100+ miles of hiking over rough terrain, even with my near-$5,000 and 15 pounds of camera gear. Of course, as I will soon find out, a short hike around the neighborhood when I'm fresh isn't quite the same thing as hiking up 4 miles of switchbacks with blisters and hot spots on my feet after having done the same thing for the past 5 days.
Having had problems with a dead battery in my pickup for the past few months after extended periods of not driving, I figure I ought to connect the Camry to it and let it charge while we eat breakfast. After about a half hour of rejuvenation, it fires up without complaint. Matt and I hit the road around 9:30, heading toward The Mountain which will be our constant companion, sometimes unseen, sometimes unfriendly, but always nearby, for the next 14 days. Something I didn't expect from my truck, in which I recently installed a new radiator, is overheating. The temperature gauge is taunting me by bouncing up past the half way mark. Depending on my speed and whether or not we're sitting at a light or going 60 on the freeway, the temperature varies. Just what we need...to have our vehicle break down on the way to the trail head.
Maybe this is fortuitous. I'm actually feeling a little apprehensive about starting. It's a long hike. A lot could go wrong. My knees could buckle (the left one is bad from a skiing accident at Snoqualmie years earlier and the right one probably isn't much better by default), we could sprain ankles, break limbs, get eaten by a bear, or worse. Well, there probably isn't much that could happen to us worse than getting eaten by a bear. Partially eaten might be worse, but we'll just make sure not to annoy a mama when her cubs are nearby. We'll watch our step, use our heads, and everything will be fine. Matt's feeling confident. I tell him he's self-delusional. I then discover that self-delusion can be a good thing, as it makes me feel much better.
Fortunately, the truck toughs it out and gets us to the parking lot at Mowich Lake. Knowing that the battery will, once again, be dead in two weeks upon our return, I make a point of parking on a slope so that, after making it back from our jaunt around The Mountain (knock on wood), we'll be able to throw our packs in the bed, get our things in order, hop in, and, with a little fancy footwork, get the engine going with a little help from gravity.
Having parked in an appropriate spot, just a few hundred yards down the long gravel road from the Mowich Lake parking lot, we hop out, give our gear one final inspection, make sure I've got all my camera gear, figure out what to do with my keys (I end up taking one aluminum key on the hike—the key to the truck's doors—and leave the rest in the truck), and throw our packs on. Okay, maybe not throw. It's hard to throw a 50-pound pack onto your back. It's more like a wrestle. We get used to it, though, and it gets a little easier each day as we refine our pack-throwing technique. We make a quick rest stop at the bathroom—one of the last times that will take place in a normal fashion for the next 14 days—and then head out.
We know it's all downhill to Mowich River Camp. Nevertheless, within about 5 minutes, I jokingly comment about being tired and ask if we're there yet. Matt lets out a chuckle, but most certainly will grow tired of my joking before the end of the hike. After maybe an hour of steady decent, I stop, unbuckle my pack, and let it fall to the ground, more or less. This, too, will get a bit easier over the course of the hike, excepting the days when I'm about to die of exhaustion. I figure we've got loads of time, as it's early afternoon, we've got only a couple hours hiking to accomplish today, and we're fresh. As we will do countless times in the coming days, we stop to drink some water, eat a snack, rest our shoulders and legs, and look at the map and GPS to figure out where we are. We've come maybe a couple miles and so we know roughly where we are, but I want to figure out exactly. This is something both Matt and I enjoy. We get out the map, get the elevation from the GPS, and pinpoint our location. If we weren't completely surrounded by trees, we would also identify nearby peaks, ridgelines, and other land features. We do, however, manage to locate the hill forming the other side of the valley into which we are hiking and which we will be ascending tomorrow. It will be a long climb up. Farther up than we're going down today. I can't wait.
Time to get on with it. A short ways down the trail, we meet the first group of hikers of many we will meet who are attempting the same thing we are—hiking almost 100 miles over rough terrain with a heavy load strapped to our backs. This is a group of seven (actually a group of 3 and a group of 4, hiking together temporarily) doing the trail clockwise from Longmire.
Probably ninety per cent of all Wonderland hikers do the trail clockwise from Longmire in 10 days. The remainder do it in a differing time period, or in a different direction (very few), or from a different starting point.
We have a brief chat, receive a warning of a hornets nest in the middle of the trail just a few switchbacks down, and go on our way, somewhat more gingerly than before.
We hike about 50 feet when I hear someone yell out "Are you guys Jay and Matt?" We do a 180 and head back up the trail. As it turns out, the sole female in the group did a search on MSN the day before they began their hike and found this very website! Needless to say, I'm thrilled that someone found my Wonderland site. What are the chances we'd run across that person? I don't know, but I'm pretty sure they're slim. We chat for a few more minutes, I snap their photo which they want displayed to the world, and we continue on. Matt is amused, but I'm beside myself. What a kick.
They reminded us of the hornets nest and say I should go first since I'm wearing shorts. That way, I'll stir up the nest and the hornets will have to deal with Matt's long pants instead of my bare skin, as the first person through stirs up the nest and those following behind get the wrath. As the slow person is always the one leading the group, I am in front anyway. Although I don't see the nest, I'm stepping carefully over anything in the middle of the trail that looks suspicious. Several minutes later, Matt asks if I saw the nest. I hadn't, but apparently, I didn't step on it. Matt had seen it and stepped carefully over it. Glad to be past that little threat. You don't want to get stung. Trust me. A fellow in that first group had been stung on two occasions. Four stings on one and two on the other. No fun at all.
Before long, we hear a raging river in the distance, a welcome sound we will encounter time and again. It's the sound of hope, an indication that we're almost at our destination. Something's strange, though. Here's the river, but where's the campground? We may have missed it, but I don't think we're that blind. Well, maybe we are, so we whip out our trusty Stanley—the best map available of Mount Rainier National Park. As it turns out, we've just arrived at the North Mowich River (fed, not surprisingly, by the North Mowich Glacier). Unfortunately, we're not there yet. The Mowich River Camp is situated on the shores of the South Mowich River (fed by the Edmunds Glacier and the South Mowich Glacier). Disappointed that we can't drop our packs permanently (at least within the framework of that night's stay), we continue on, crossing the North Mowich River and heading back into the woods.
Within just a few minutes, we see what will become a welcome sight—a sign on the trail with the name of one of our camps. This camp, like most, is just a few hundred feet off the trail. We wander into it, inspecting the various sites, any of which we can choose, excepting the group site, which is reserved for groups of 6-12 people. We end up choosing the site at the back of the camp, which has convenient access to the river, via a short trail.
We begin what is to become an ritual each day upon arriving at a new camp. I unload everything in my pack to reveal the tent, which is packed in the bottom. It's the first thing in and the last thing out. We inspect the ground for bumps, rocks, and slope, figuring out the best place for the tent, wanting, of course, the most comfortable night's sleep possible.
We still have quite awhile until dinner, having arrived mid-afternoon, so Matt and I both bum around the river, independent of one another, until, like dogs at the backdoor, we instinctively wander back to camp when our bellies need filling. I've already filled my water bottles from the silty glacial water running through the river bed, so we use one of my Nalgene bottles to fix our first of many yummie Mountain House freeze dried dinners. If these things weren't so expensive, I think I'd eat them every day. They are grubbin'.
We've forgotten bug spray and the bugs are bugging Matt in particular and me to a lesser extent. They seem to be the worst in the evening, but go away when it cools off. Thankfully, this is one of the few days where bugs are a problem. We've met a group of four other hikers who are staying here and they give us some bug juice. Most hikers doing the trail seem pretty generous. This group is hiking the trail in sections, like many people do. They are doing their third and final segment—Mowich Lake to Longmire. We will camp with them again at Golden Lakes and then one final night at Klapatche Park.
After dinner, Matt spends some time filling both his water bottles, and I take some pictures of the river and up the river bed toward the lower ridges of The Mountain. Today, we can't see The Mountain because we're in a valley which twists at it moves uphill where the view might otherwise be. On other days, it will be clouds that block our view. I burn through some memory instead of film, as I get my new camera warmed up to the park. I don't know if my memory cards or batteries will last the entire hike, but I don't worry about it. I snap away, in my own little world behind the viewfinder, camera sitting on my carbon fiber tripod.
Matt and I hit the sack early, as there's not much to do after dark. When you're out in the wilderness, you tend to go to bed just after dark and get up shortly after the sun rises. This is the pattern we adopt. The first day is largely a success. We're feeling good and we've made it to our first camp, gotten things set up, and cooked our first dinner. We're feeling good.
Photos of the Hike
We'll be doing a short hike today, only about three-and-a-half miles, from Mowich Lake, where we'll leave my Ford F-250, to Mowich River Camp, just past the North Mowich River, right on the South Mowich River. It will take us about an hour-and-a-half to drive there from Tacoma, and I want to get off to a good start. After Matt's up and at 'em, we get the last few items secured, loaded, and bolted on to our packs.
Tip:
Get in shape before you go. You can't get in shape in 10 days, regardless of what anyone has told you.
Having had problems with a dead battery in my pickup for the past few months after extended periods of not driving, I figure I ought to connect the Camry to it and let it charge while we eat breakfast. After about a half hour of rejuvenation, it fires up without complaint. Matt and I hit the road around 9:30, heading toward The Mountain which will be our constant companion, sometimes unseen, sometimes unfriendly, but always nearby, for the next 14 days. Something I didn't expect from my truck, in which I recently installed a new radiator, is overheating. The temperature gauge is taunting me by bouncing up past the half way mark. Depending on my speed and whether or not we're sitting at a light or going 60 on the freeway, the temperature varies. Just what we need...to have our vehicle break down on the way to the trail head.
Maybe this is fortuitous. I'm actually feeling a little apprehensive about starting. It's a long hike. A lot could go wrong. My knees could buckle (the left one is bad from a skiing accident at Snoqualmie years earlier and the right one probably isn't much better by default), we could sprain ankles, break limbs, get eaten by a bear, or worse. Well, there probably isn't much that could happen to us worse than getting eaten by a bear. Partially eaten might be worse, but we'll just make sure not to annoy a mama when her cubs are nearby. We'll watch our step, use our heads, and everything will be fine. Matt's feeling confident. I tell him he's self-delusional. I then discover that self-delusion can be a good thing, as it makes me feel much better.
Fortunately, the truck toughs it out and gets us to the parking lot at Mowich Lake. Knowing that the battery will, once again, be dead in two weeks upon our return, I make a point of parking on a slope so that, after making it back from our jaunt around The Mountain (knock on wood), we'll be able to throw our packs in the bed, get our things in order, hop in, and, with a little fancy footwork, get the engine going with a little help from gravity.
Having parked in an appropriate spot, just a few hundred yards down the long gravel road from the Mowich Lake parking lot, we hop out, give our gear one final inspection, make sure I've got all my camera gear, figure out what to do with my keys (I end up taking one aluminum key on the hike—the key to the truck's doors—and leave the rest in the truck), and throw our packs on. Okay, maybe not throw. It's hard to throw a 50-pound pack onto your back. It's more like a wrestle. We get used to it, though, and it gets a little easier each day as we refine our pack-throwing technique. We make a quick rest stop at the bathroom—one of the last times that will take place in a normal fashion for the next 14 days—and then head out.
We know it's all downhill to Mowich River Camp. Nevertheless, within about 5 minutes, I jokingly comment about being tired and ask if we're there yet. Matt lets out a chuckle, but most certainly will grow tired of my joking before the end of the hike. After maybe an hour of steady decent, I stop, unbuckle my pack, and let it fall to the ground, more or less. This, too, will get a bit easier over the course of the hike, excepting the days when I'm about to die of exhaustion. I figure we've got loads of time, as it's early afternoon, we've got only a couple hours hiking to accomplish today, and we're fresh. As we will do countless times in the coming days, we stop to drink some water, eat a snack, rest our shoulders and legs, and look at the map and GPS to figure out where we are. We've come maybe a couple miles and so we know roughly where we are, but I want to figure out exactly. This is something both Matt and I enjoy. We get out the map, get the elevation from the GPS, and pinpoint our location. If we weren't completely surrounded by trees, we would also identify nearby peaks, ridgelines, and other land features. We do, however, manage to locate the hill forming the other side of the valley into which we are hiking and which we will be ascending tomorrow. It will be a long climb up. Farther up than we're going down today. I can't wait.
Time to get on with it. A short ways down the trail, we meet the first group of hikers of many we will meet who are attempting the same thing we are—hiking almost 100 miles over rough terrain with a heavy load strapped to our backs. This is a group of seven (actually a group of 3 and a group of 4, hiking together temporarily) doing the trail clockwise from Longmire.
Probably ninety per cent of all Wonderland hikers do the trail clockwise from Longmire in 10 days. The remainder do it in a differing time period, or in a different direction (very few), or from a different starting point.
We have a brief chat, receive a warning of a hornets nest in the middle of the trail just a few switchbacks down, and go on our way, somewhat more gingerly than before.
We hike about 50 feet when I hear someone yell out "Are you guys Jay and Matt?" We do a 180 and head back up the trail. As it turns out, the sole female in the group did a search on MSN the day before they began their hike and found this very website! Needless to say, I'm thrilled that someone found my Wonderland site. What are the chances we'd run across that person? I don't know, but I'm pretty sure they're slim. We chat for a few more minutes, I snap their photo which they want displayed to the world, and we continue on. Matt is amused, but I'm beside myself. What a kick.
They reminded us of the hornets nest and say I should go first since I'm wearing shorts. That way, I'll stir up the nest and the hornets will have to deal with Matt's long pants instead of my bare skin, as the first person through stirs up the nest and those following behind get the wrath. As the slow person is always the one leading the group, I am in front anyway. Although I don't see the nest, I'm stepping carefully over anything in the middle of the trail that looks suspicious. Several minutes later, Matt asks if I saw the nest. I hadn't, but apparently, I didn't step on it. Matt had seen it and stepped carefully over it. Glad to be past that little threat. You don't want to get stung. Trust me. A fellow in that first group had been stung on two occasions. Four stings on one and two on the other. No fun at all.
Before long, we hear a raging river in the distance, a welcome sound we will encounter time and again. It's the sound of hope, an indication that we're almost at our destination. Something's strange, though. Here's the river, but where's the campground? We may have missed it, but I don't think we're that blind. Well, maybe we are, so we whip out our trusty Stanley—the best map available of Mount Rainier National Park. As it turns out, we've just arrived at the North Mowich River (fed, not surprisingly, by the North Mowich Glacier). Unfortunately, we're not there yet. The Mowich River Camp is situated on the shores of the South Mowich River (fed by the Edmunds Glacier and the South Mowich Glacier). Disappointed that we can't drop our packs permanently (at least within the framework of that night's stay), we continue on, crossing the North Mowich River and heading back into the woods.
Within just a few minutes, we see what will become a welcome sight—a sign on the trail with the name of one of our camps. This camp, like most, is just a few hundred feet off the trail. We wander into it, inspecting the various sites, any of which we can choose, excepting the group site, which is reserved for groups of 6-12 people. We end up choosing the site at the back of the camp, which has convenient access to the river, via a short trail.
We begin what is to become an ritual each day upon arriving at a new camp. I unload everything in my pack to reveal the tent, which is packed in the bottom. It's the first thing in and the last thing out. We inspect the ground for bumps, rocks, and slope, figuring out the best place for the tent, wanting, of course, the most comfortable night's sleep possible.
We still have quite awhile until dinner, having arrived mid-afternoon, so Matt and I both bum around the river, independent of one another, until, like dogs at the backdoor, we instinctively wander back to camp when our bellies need filling. I've already filled my water bottles from the silty glacial water running through the river bed, so we use one of my Nalgene bottles to fix our first of many yummie Mountain House freeze dried dinners. If these things weren't so expensive, I think I'd eat them every day. They are grubbin'.
We've forgotten bug spray and the bugs are bugging Matt in particular and me to a lesser extent. They seem to be the worst in the evening, but go away when it cools off. Thankfully, this is one of the few days where bugs are a problem. We've met a group of four other hikers who are staying here and they give us some bug juice. Most hikers doing the trail seem pretty generous. This group is hiking the trail in sections, like many people do. They are doing their third and final segment—Mowich Lake to Longmire. We will camp with them again at Golden Lakes and then one final night at Klapatche Park.
After dinner, Matt spends some time filling both his water bottles, and I take some pictures of the river and up the river bed toward the lower ridges of The Mountain. Today, we can't see The Mountain because we're in a valley which twists at it moves uphill where the view might otherwise be. On other days, it will be clouds that block our view. I burn through some memory instead of film, as I get my new camera warmed up to the park. I don't know if my memory cards or batteries will last the entire hike, but I don't worry about it. I snap away, in my own little world behind the viewfinder, camera sitting on my carbon fiber tripod.
Matt and I hit the sack early, as there's not much to do after dark. When you're out in the wilderness, you tend to go to bed just after dark and get up shortly after the sun rises. This is the pattern we adopt. The first day is largely a success. We're feeling good and we've made it to our first camp, gotten things set up, and cooked our first dinner. We're feeling good.
Photos of the Hike
September 2nd—Mowich River to Golden Lakes
Having camped on occasion before, I remember not being as comfortable in my sleeping bag as I normally am in our flannel sheets on our thick, soft, queen size mattress in the relative comfort of our house. I had hoped that my brand new Marmot Atom 40-degree 900-fill down sleeping bag would alleviate that discomfort. I should have tested that theory before our 14-day hike. I was sweaty and sticky and didn't have room to sprawl out (even to a modest degree) as I normally might. Well, I guess I have 12 more nights to try and obviate the problem. At the very least, I figure that, if I keep sleeping (or not sleeping, as the case may be) this poorly, eventually I'll be so tired that I'll sleep like a baby. I wish I had brought fleece PJs, as I had considered doing.
As will typify this trip, we're up sometime after the crack of dawn. I'll need the rest each night, so this pattern is fine with me. As difficult and long as some of our days are (and as late as we get in on a couple of occasions), the sleep is welcome.
This is our first breakfast of the trip. Our chance to try our breakfast system. We start out the same as for dinner. Pour one of our Nalgene bottles into our high-tech titanium pot (I may mention numerous times that our pot and its lid are constructed of titanium, as I think it's very cool and it cost me 90 bucks—2 pots and 2 lids, but we brought just the smaller set), boil the water, and voila, we have water for my oatmeal, Matt's cream of wheat, and one hot chocolate each. Each of us has a lexan cup that will be all we need for the breakfast ceremony. I dump two packets of oatmeal into the cup, pour water in almost to the top, stir, warm my hands, then warm my belly. The hand-warming is a stupendous fringe benefit that the hot chocolate also offers and in which I will bask time and again on this hike. Anyway, I try to get most of the grains of oatmeal out of the cup before dumping in the packet of hot chocolate and adding another cup of hot water (we make sure to put the lid back on the pot after each pouring so as to help it retain its heat as long as possible). After imbibing the hot chocolate, the cup is relatively clean. I simply add a bit of clean water, slosh it around, clean the rim with my fingers, and throw the water overboard. Matt had the foresight to bring several hankies, one of which becomes our cookware-drying hanky. After breakfast is over, one cup slides into the other, and both go into the pot. Matt adds a towel to the mix to prevent clanking, and the unit goes into his pack somewhere in the course of his packing process.
Taking a break. I don't know if making the tent the first thing into my backpack is a good idea or not, but it does dictate that we stuff our sleeping bags into their stuff sacks, roll up our sleeping pads, remove various and sundry items from the storage gizmo on top, and clean out our other stuff such as pillow, clothing, and camera gear, before we can break it down, get it into its bag, and finally get it into my pack. So each morning, I end up getting a late start packing my backpack, as I have to wait for the tent. Thankfully, Matt is pretty methodical about packing while I'm pretty haphazard. Put the tent in, stuff my sleeping bag in, stuff my pillow in, throw the rest of the crap on top, hook my sleeping pad and tripod onto the outside...done. We both end up finishing at about the same time.
I have two pouches that I attach to the outside of my backpack and that hold all manner of small items...extra straps, spoon, lighter, camera accessories, etc., etc., etc. Next time, I'll be a little more organized in this regard. I don't know where anything is. If I need an extra camera battery, I have to empty out both of these pouches. When I need my spoon for meals, I have to dig through sundry items. Kind of a pain in the neck and I don't really get past it during the hike.
I put mole skin on the big toe on my right foot, as there is a hot spot developing there. This is the same hot spot that began to develop on some of my practice hikes, of which there were far too few. Having gone downhill for a few miles the day before has exacerbated things. My slightly pudgy 174-pound frame along with 52 pounds extra on my back will be hard on my body over the next two weeks. Not only will I develop numerous hot spots and blisters, but I will feel the aches and pains brought on by the hike for weeks after its completion. About quarter past nine, we head out. I think it must help me to break each day's hike down into sections. Either that or I just like maps. I look at the map and break today down into three main sections. There will be an easy section along the South Mowich River, a tough uphill to get up the other side of the valley, and then a relatively easy section along the ridge to Golden Lakes. Knowing that there will be some tough sections over the coming days, breaking it down gives me manageable chunks to digest.
Heading out of camp, we're careful to check the sign to make sure we go the right direction. Even though today's hike is a measly six-and-a-half miles, or so, I don't want to have to backtrack. Carefully checking signs and junctions along the trail is something Matt and I do throughout the hike. We never miss a trail, a turn, or a camp. Crossing the South Mowich River is interesting but uneventful. The river is low and the bridges are commensurately small. A couple are little more than sticks. We have to look carefully to find them. We manage to get across and find the trail on the other side. Checking the map and GPS along the way helps us stay on track. Unfortunately, the farther we go, the closer we get to the switchbacks we'll have to climb. I guess the 20,000 feet of elevation gain has to come from somewhere. This will be part of it. I make it up these climbs by taking frequent breaks. I rest for just a minute to catch my breath, rest my calves, or take a swig of water, or drop the pack and have a snack. Four hours after we begin, we make it to the top. Each time we attain a ridgeline, I'm a happy man. I know we've accomplished something significant and I feel like making camp will be possible. We celebrate by having some salami and cheese (Tillamook medium cheddar, of course).
I know the hard part is behind us, so we set out at a good clip, hiking just below a solid layer of clouds, something we will see more of than we'd like during the coming days. There are grass-like plants impinging on the trail from every side, like thousands of little green water fountains springing from the ground. In this case, it's easier to hike without the trekking poles, so I just carry them in one hand, grasping them around their midsection, so I can employ them easily if needed. Unfortunately, I need to use the restroom, but will try and wait for camp. I estimate that we'll reach camp in around an hour. After an hour and fifteen minutes of relatively easy hiking, we arrive, and just in the nick of time. I have diarrhea. We get to the pit toilet, drop our things, Matt goes to look for a site, and I relieve myself. I don't think I could've made it much farther.
Much relieved, we take the last site. All the other sites were full, either because of their great views, or because they don't have a bees nest. Not sure which is more motivational. Matt tells me I have to see the view from site #5. After setting up our tent, we head back down the trail to a large lake, one of many that comprise Golden Lakes. I begin to fill water bottles with my MSR WaterWorks II filter. Matt and I hang out here for a while, enjoying the solitude. I take some pictures while Matt does some reading. As we linger, fog rolls in. I take advantage of the mystery that fog can bring to a scene and keep snapping away.
Soon thereafter, we head back to camp for some supper. After supper, we head over to the viewpoint near site #5 to check out that view. Of course, all we can see is the fog and clouds. We head back toward the middle of camp and discover another lake. There are more than a dozen lakes around here. We hang out for a bit and I snap some more photos. The clouds begin to clear and we head back over near site #5 to a lookout that could be its own site, but is apparently just an area for enjoying the view, right next door to the guys we met at Mowich River Camp who managed to snag site #5, the one with the perfect view.The guys from site #5 and Mowich River Camp are already gathered, presumably expecting a nice sunset. We'll see if the clouds are gone for the day. Yoga guy (Wes) is already there, stretching his muscles, or meditating or whatever. Matt and I make six. We're soon joined by Gretchen, Amy, and Matt (different Matt).
Amy says she has gone swimming at a few other lakes along their route, but says it's too cold to go here at Golden Lakes. In my own mind, I agree. Someone asks how long we think it will be until the sun sets. People start placing bets. No more than 20 minutes. I say 30. Do I hear 40? One guy holds his arms up in the air, forming an angle between sun and horizon, talking about minutes and arc-seconds, and drawing some equations in the sand with his finger. I harangue Matt about not getting involved in the math. He laments—as he will do on more than one occasion during the hike—that he doesn't know more about the heavenly bodies. Eventually, the sun is down, it starts to get cold, and I've already used up way too much of the first of two 4-gigabyte Compact Flash cards, so I head back to our buzzing camp site to go to bed. The gathering begins to break up at this point. I love being a trend setter. The bees are already in bed. Matt and I fall asleep in the silence.
Photos of the Hike
As will typify this trip, we're up sometime after the crack of dawn. I'll need the rest each night, so this pattern is fine with me. As difficult and long as some of our days are (and as late as we get in on a couple of occasions), the sleep is welcome.
This is our first breakfast of the trip. Our chance to try our breakfast system. We start out the same as for dinner. Pour one of our Nalgene bottles into our high-tech titanium pot (I may mention numerous times that our pot and its lid are constructed of titanium, as I think it's very cool and it cost me 90 bucks—2 pots and 2 lids, but we brought just the smaller set), boil the water, and voila, we have water for my oatmeal, Matt's cream of wheat, and one hot chocolate each. Each of us has a lexan cup that will be all we need for the breakfast ceremony. I dump two packets of oatmeal into the cup, pour water in almost to the top, stir, warm my hands, then warm my belly. The hand-warming is a stupendous fringe benefit that the hot chocolate also offers and in which I will bask time and again on this hike. Anyway, I try to get most of the grains of oatmeal out of the cup before dumping in the packet of hot chocolate and adding another cup of hot water (we make sure to put the lid back on the pot after each pouring so as to help it retain its heat as long as possible). After imbibing the hot chocolate, the cup is relatively clean. I simply add a bit of clean water, slosh it around, clean the rim with my fingers, and throw the water overboard. Matt had the foresight to bring several hankies, one of which becomes our cookware-drying hanky. After breakfast is over, one cup slides into the other, and both go into the pot. Matt adds a towel to the mix to prevent clanking, and the unit goes into his pack somewhere in the course of his packing process.
Taking a break. I don't know if making the tent the first thing into my backpack is a good idea or not, but it does dictate that we stuff our sleeping bags into their stuff sacks, roll up our sleeping pads, remove various and sundry items from the storage gizmo on top, and clean out our other stuff such as pillow, clothing, and camera gear, before we can break it down, get it into its bag, and finally get it into my pack. So each morning, I end up getting a late start packing my backpack, as I have to wait for the tent. Thankfully, Matt is pretty methodical about packing while I'm pretty haphazard. Put the tent in, stuff my sleeping bag in, stuff my pillow in, throw the rest of the crap on top, hook my sleeping pad and tripod onto the outside...done. We both end up finishing at about the same time.
I have two pouches that I attach to the outside of my backpack and that hold all manner of small items...extra straps, spoon, lighter, camera accessories, etc., etc., etc. Next time, I'll be a little more organized in this regard. I don't know where anything is. If I need an extra camera battery, I have to empty out both of these pouches. When I need my spoon for meals, I have to dig through sundry items. Kind of a pain in the neck and I don't really get past it during the hike.
I put mole skin on the big toe on my right foot, as there is a hot spot developing there. This is the same hot spot that began to develop on some of my practice hikes, of which there were far too few. Having gone downhill for a few miles the day before has exacerbated things. My slightly pudgy 174-pound frame along with 52 pounds extra on my back will be hard on my body over the next two weeks. Not only will I develop numerous hot spots and blisters, but I will feel the aches and pains brought on by the hike for weeks after its completion. About quarter past nine, we head out. I think it must help me to break each day's hike down into sections. Either that or I just like maps. I look at the map and break today down into three main sections. There will be an easy section along the South Mowich River, a tough uphill to get up the other side of the valley, and then a relatively easy section along the ridge to Golden Lakes. Knowing that there will be some tough sections over the coming days, breaking it down gives me manageable chunks to digest.
Heading out of camp, we're careful to check the sign to make sure we go the right direction. Even though today's hike is a measly six-and-a-half miles, or so, I don't want to have to backtrack. Carefully checking signs and junctions along the trail is something Matt and I do throughout the hike. We never miss a trail, a turn, or a camp. Crossing the South Mowich River is interesting but uneventful. The river is low and the bridges are commensurately small. A couple are little more than sticks. We have to look carefully to find them. We manage to get across and find the trail on the other side. Checking the map and GPS along the way helps us stay on track. Unfortunately, the farther we go, the closer we get to the switchbacks we'll have to climb. I guess the 20,000 feet of elevation gain has to come from somewhere. This will be part of it. I make it up these climbs by taking frequent breaks. I rest for just a minute to catch my breath, rest my calves, or take a swig of water, or drop the pack and have a snack. Four hours after we begin, we make it to the top. Each time we attain a ridgeline, I'm a happy man. I know we've accomplished something significant and I feel like making camp will be possible. We celebrate by having some salami and cheese (Tillamook medium cheddar, of course).
I know the hard part is behind us, so we set out at a good clip, hiking just below a solid layer of clouds, something we will see more of than we'd like during the coming days. There are grass-like plants impinging on the trail from every side, like thousands of little green water fountains springing from the ground. In this case, it's easier to hike without the trekking poles, so I just carry them in one hand, grasping them around their midsection, so I can employ them easily if needed. Unfortunately, I need to use the restroom, but will try and wait for camp. I estimate that we'll reach camp in around an hour. After an hour and fifteen minutes of relatively easy hiking, we arrive, and just in the nick of time. I have diarrhea. We get to the pit toilet, drop our things, Matt goes to look for a site, and I relieve myself. I don't think I could've made it much farther.
Much relieved, we take the last site. All the other sites were full, either because of their great views, or because they don't have a bees nest. Not sure which is more motivational. Matt tells me I have to see the view from site #5. After setting up our tent, we head back down the trail to a large lake, one of many that comprise Golden Lakes. I begin to fill water bottles with my MSR WaterWorks II filter. Matt and I hang out here for a while, enjoying the solitude. I take some pictures while Matt does some reading. As we linger, fog rolls in. I take advantage of the mystery that fog can bring to a scene and keep snapping away.
Soon thereafter, we head back to camp for some supper. After supper, we head over to the viewpoint near site #5 to check out that view. Of course, all we can see is the fog and clouds. We head back toward the middle of camp and discover another lake. There are more than a dozen lakes around here. We hang out for a bit and I snap some more photos. The clouds begin to clear and we head back over near site #5 to a lookout that could be its own site, but is apparently just an area for enjoying the view, right next door to the guys we met at Mowich River Camp who managed to snag site #5, the one with the perfect view.The guys from site #5 and Mowich River Camp are already gathered, presumably expecting a nice sunset. We'll see if the clouds are gone for the day. Yoga guy (Wes) is already there, stretching his muscles, or meditating or whatever. Matt and I make six. We're soon joined by Gretchen, Amy, and Matt (different Matt).
Amy says she has gone swimming at a few other lakes along their route, but says it's too cold to go here at Golden Lakes. In my own mind, I agree. Someone asks how long we think it will be until the sun sets. People start placing bets. No more than 20 minutes. I say 30. Do I hear 40? One guy holds his arms up in the air, forming an angle between sun and horizon, talking about minutes and arc-seconds, and drawing some equations in the sand with his finger. I harangue Matt about not getting involved in the math. He laments—as he will do on more than one occasion during the hike—that he doesn't know more about the heavenly bodies. Eventually, the sun is down, it starts to get cold, and I've already used up way too much of the first of two 4-gigabyte Compact Flash cards, so I head back to our buzzing camp site to go to bed. The gathering begins to break up at this point. I love being a trend setter. The bees are already in bed. Matt and I fall asleep in the silence.
Photos of the Hike
September 3rd—Golden Lakes to Klapatche Park
It's sometime in the morning...early. I don't know what time it is. I just know one thing. I have to pee. I wonder how long it will be until the sun comes up? If it's not long, maybe I can hold it. I'd rather just stay in bed and go later. What if I get up now, then go back to bed only to discover that it's already almost time to get up? That would be annoying. But what if it's still really early? Then I'll lie here in misery missing several hours of good sleep. Okay. I'm just gonna go for it. By the time I get back to my sleeping bag, I'm shivering...literally shaking. I zip my sleeping bag back up all the way. I search for the drawstring turning my bag into a mummy bag. That eliminates the entrance of any of that chilly night air into my bag and onto my skin. Before long, I quit shaking and begin to warm back up. Okay. It was probably worth it. Now I can get some more sleep. Phew! I almost get used to this routine over the next week-and-a-half.
As we'll learn on this trip, Mount Rainier's weather is deceptive. The night was clear and we wake up to a beautiful blue sky. I anticipate a lovely day. The weather will tease you. You'll see blue patches. Heck! You'll see tons of blue! It doesn't matter. The clouds come. The fog comes. You won't see the mountain for hours...or days. We begin to wonder if the mountain is even there.
The climb out of Golden Lakes is tough (we leave around 8:20), but eventually we come out on top. Hiking through the green water fountains, again I carry my trekking poles rather than try to find a place to plant them in between the overgrowth. I take a brief break to clean the junk out of my shoes. By the time the hike is done on the 14th, I really wish I had brought gaiters. This is one of those times. Not only do they keep your feet and legs dry (so I'm told) when there's dew on the ground or it has just rained, but they keep pebbles, twigs, dirt, and debris from falling into your shoes or boots.Off we go. Apparently, I pissed off a bee or a hornet. It stings me on the inside of my right ankle. I can't express the intensity of the pain. Matt wonders why I'm screaming and doing a one-legged dance. I guess the gaiters would help out here, too. Oh, well. Although the pain subsides, it hurts for hours more. Over the next several days, my ankle swells up. A ranger later tells me that if it's not getting worse after several days, I'll probably be okay. I figured, but it didn't hurt to ask.
As usual, we hear the roar of a big river well before we get there. This time, it's the North Puyallup. This is a beautiful river and it's easy to get down to. After crossing the huge, solid, timer frame bridge, we climb a short distance up the trail away from the bridge, drop our packs, grab some grub, and scamper back down to the bridge and down to the water down what is almost a set of steps carved in the rock. I like it when it's this easy. As usual, I snap a few pictures first thing. Then Matt and I each some cheese and salami, drink some of our own water, and just relax by the roar of the river for a few minutes. While Matt continues to eat and rest, I run up to the bridge with my tripod and camera and continue taking pictures of the river and distant hills that are backed by clouds, behind which Mount Rainier is hiding we later find out.We've had a relatively easy hike so far, but the map tells us we've got some pain and suffering ahead. Just before we head out, we meet a couple guys who have just come from Klapatche Park. One of them tells us the climb is not steep, but it's long. By the end of today, he will have become the brunt of many a joke. You see, he had been smoking crack, and yet we had believed him. As it turns out, the climb is not that long. This is clear by the map. What one might also surmise from the map is that there are some ridiculously steep sections ahead. Time and again, as I'm climbing almost straight up, I make a wise crack. Oh no! It's not steep, but it's loooonnnnng! I guess one's perspective when going downhill isn't the same as when going up.
We've been warned that there's no convenient water at Klapatche Park, so we stop at a stream part way up the switchbacks. After about forty minutes, I've got my two quarts full. During this long, tiring exercise, Matt and I determine that the ball valve on my MSR WaterWorks II isn't sealing properly and on the pump stroke, half the water is going back out the hose. This is rather frustrating. As Matt begins to fill up his bottles, I press on ahead up this "not very steep, but long" hillside. By the end, I'm basically climbing a frickin' ladder. By the top, I'm sweating like a pig. I stop to rest and drink half a liter of my precious water while I'm at it. Thankfully, this is it. It's an easy stroll to Klapatche Park.I arrive at around 5:00. I find a site and begin setting up camp. Not long after, Matt shows up. We get the tent set up and unpack our stuff. We hear reports of a bear. In fact, Matt just saw it on his way in. One thing I really want to get a picture of on this hike is a bear. A goat is number two on my list.
Having arrived just after I did, a father, son, and daughter, Kerri, from Florida, had also seen the bear. Kerri says she isn't doing anything so she'll show me where she saw the bear. Sweet! A guide to show me right where the beast is. We walk to the edge of camp about 35 yards down the trail and she stops and points to the top of Aurora Peak, just across what was once a lake, Aurora Lake, but is now only a dry lakebed. So much for a guided tour. Matt and I set off in that direction, which will take us to St. Andrews Lake, another lake with not much water in it. We don't see a bear, but we do see some deer, some beautiful landscapes (clouds and all), and some blueberries that we don't hesitate to eat. We will eat our share of blueberries on this trip. They are plentiful and delicious.
At about 9:00, one of the guys from the party we stayed with at Mowich River and Golden Lakes comes running down the trail saying The Mountain is out. He knows I'm into photography and is kind enough to tip me off. Although it's well after sunset and getting darker, I manage to get a few shots. Several of us hang out and chat about...well, not much. We just enjoy The Mountain together.The clouds begin to roll in again and we break up. Matt and I still haven't had dinner and it's beginning to get darn chilly. We head back to our site. Kerri asks if she can join us. She's not thrilled about spending a week-and-a-half with her dad and brother and relishes the time talking to other humans. We hang out for a while, Matt and I eating and getting warmed up, Kerri watching and getting colder. Eventually, she says goodnight and heads off to her zero-degree bag.
Not long after that, Matt and I hit the sack. Tonight, I leave my tank top on. As it turns out, it helps me not stick to the bag so much. I sleep with it on for the rest of the trip.
Photos of the Hike
As we'll learn on this trip, Mount Rainier's weather is deceptive. The night was clear and we wake up to a beautiful blue sky. I anticipate a lovely day. The weather will tease you. You'll see blue patches. Heck! You'll see tons of blue! It doesn't matter. The clouds come. The fog comes. You won't see the mountain for hours...or days. We begin to wonder if the mountain is even there.
The climb out of Golden Lakes is tough (we leave around 8:20), but eventually we come out on top. Hiking through the green water fountains, again I carry my trekking poles rather than try to find a place to plant them in between the overgrowth. I take a brief break to clean the junk out of my shoes. By the time the hike is done on the 14th, I really wish I had brought gaiters. This is one of those times. Not only do they keep your feet and legs dry (so I'm told) when there's dew on the ground or it has just rained, but they keep pebbles, twigs, dirt, and debris from falling into your shoes or boots.Off we go. Apparently, I pissed off a bee or a hornet. It stings me on the inside of my right ankle. I can't express the intensity of the pain. Matt wonders why I'm screaming and doing a one-legged dance. I guess the gaiters would help out here, too. Oh, well. Although the pain subsides, it hurts for hours more. Over the next several days, my ankle swells up. A ranger later tells me that if it's not getting worse after several days, I'll probably be okay. I figured, but it didn't hurt to ask.
As usual, we hear the roar of a big river well before we get there. This time, it's the North Puyallup. This is a beautiful river and it's easy to get down to. After crossing the huge, solid, timer frame bridge, we climb a short distance up the trail away from the bridge, drop our packs, grab some grub, and scamper back down to the bridge and down to the water down what is almost a set of steps carved in the rock. I like it when it's this easy. As usual, I snap a few pictures first thing. Then Matt and I each some cheese and salami, drink some of our own water, and just relax by the roar of the river for a few minutes. While Matt continues to eat and rest, I run up to the bridge with my tripod and camera and continue taking pictures of the river and distant hills that are backed by clouds, behind which Mount Rainier is hiding we later find out.We've had a relatively easy hike so far, but the map tells us we've got some pain and suffering ahead. Just before we head out, we meet a couple guys who have just come from Klapatche Park. One of them tells us the climb is not steep, but it's long. By the end of today, he will have become the brunt of many a joke. You see, he had been smoking crack, and yet we had believed him. As it turns out, the climb is not that long. This is clear by the map. What one might also surmise from the map is that there are some ridiculously steep sections ahead. Time and again, as I'm climbing almost straight up, I make a wise crack. Oh no! It's not steep, but it's loooonnnnng! I guess one's perspective when going downhill isn't the same as when going up.
We've been warned that there's no convenient water at Klapatche Park, so we stop at a stream part way up the switchbacks. After about forty minutes, I've got my two quarts full. During this long, tiring exercise, Matt and I determine that the ball valve on my MSR WaterWorks II isn't sealing properly and on the pump stroke, half the water is going back out the hose. This is rather frustrating. As Matt begins to fill up his bottles, I press on ahead up this "not very steep, but long" hillside. By the end, I'm basically climbing a frickin' ladder. By the top, I'm sweating like a pig. I stop to rest and drink half a liter of my precious water while I'm at it. Thankfully, this is it. It's an easy stroll to Klapatche Park.I arrive at around 5:00. I find a site and begin setting up camp. Not long after, Matt shows up. We get the tent set up and unpack our stuff. We hear reports of a bear. In fact, Matt just saw it on his way in. One thing I really want to get a picture of on this hike is a bear. A goat is number two on my list.
Having arrived just after I did, a father, son, and daughter, Kerri, from Florida, had also seen the bear. Kerri says she isn't doing anything so she'll show me where she saw the bear. Sweet! A guide to show me right where the beast is. We walk to the edge of camp about 35 yards down the trail and she stops and points to the top of Aurora Peak, just across what was once a lake, Aurora Lake, but is now only a dry lakebed. So much for a guided tour. Matt and I set off in that direction, which will take us to St. Andrews Lake, another lake with not much water in it. We don't see a bear, but we do see some deer, some beautiful landscapes (clouds and all), and some blueberries that we don't hesitate to eat. We will eat our share of blueberries on this trip. They are plentiful and delicious.
At about 9:00, one of the guys from the party we stayed with at Mowich River and Golden Lakes comes running down the trail saying The Mountain is out. He knows I'm into photography and is kind enough to tip me off. Although it's well after sunset and getting darker, I manage to get a few shots. Several of us hang out and chat about...well, not much. We just enjoy The Mountain together.The clouds begin to roll in again and we break up. Matt and I still haven't had dinner and it's beginning to get darn chilly. We head back to our site. Kerri asks if she can join us. She's not thrilled about spending a week-and-a-half with her dad and brother and relishes the time talking to other humans. We hang out for a while, Matt and I eating and getting warmed up, Kerri watching and getting colder. Eventually, she says goodnight and heads off to her zero-degree bag.
Not long after that, Matt and I hit the sack. Tonight, I leave my tank top on. As it turns out, it helps me not stick to the bag so much. I sleep with it on for the rest of the trip.
Photos of the Hike
September 4th—Day Hike from Klapatche Park to Tokaloo Rock
Ahhhh. Finally a day of rest. A day where we don't have to tear the tent down in the morning and set it back up at the end of a long, hard slog. Today is one of three days to which we have allotted a day hike. A nice, easy, relaxing day hike. Today's hike will be to Tokaloo Rock, partway up the Puyallup Cleaver.
Since this is an easy, local hike, we sleep in a bit and spend some time relaxing around camp. One of the first things I do, as the sun rises over Aurora Peak to the East, is to photograph chipmunks. One thing I learn on this hike is that there are zillions of chipmunks in Mount Rainier National Park and there aren't very many squirrels. As I snap away toward the edge of camp, Kerri wanders over. I mention that there are squirrels all over the place darting around—these little guys are amazingly quick. She says "you mean chipmunks?" I say "I don't know. What's the difference?" She explains that chipmunks are tiny with stripes down their backs. Squirrels are larger, darker, and have no stripes (chipmunks are actually a member of the squirrel family). Well, I guess I've got lots of great photos of chipmunks, so I'll have to keep my eyes peeled for squirrels for the duration of our hike.
Matt and I have our usual hand warming and stomach warming breakfast before packing. Today, we pack light. I'm glad I brought a day pack. I use it several times and it fits the bill perfectly. I even let Matt borrow it once. We pack only what we know we'll need and also what everyone should always have with them when they're bumming around on The Mountain. I take all my camera gear (Minolta Maxxum 5D, Sigma 12-24 zoom lens, Minolta 50mm macro, and Minolta 70-200 f/2.8 SSM zoom lens) and we both pack extra clothing. Matt carries our food. We both carry water. Matt manages to put my tripod inside his monster pack. We set out in the late hours of the morning.
There's a long hill leading up to St. Andrews Lake and I'm dragging, probably because of the difficult hike the day before. As usual, I take several breaks on the way up and before we know it, we arrive at the lake. Surprisingly, we see a trail leading up toward Tokaloo Rock. There is no trail indicated on the map, only a climbing route, so this is a pleasant surprise. Unfortunately, the trail won't last for long. We want to see where we're headed, so we pull out the map, compass, and Matt's sweet GPS receiver. We get an idea how far we have to go and verify that the trail is heading off in the right direction. The hiking is easy initially, as we circle along the north shore of St. Andrews Lake. We're actually hiking along the north shore of a largely dry lakebed, as the lake, itself, is really more like a large pond. I wonder where all that water went? Shortly, the trail steepens to the point where we are climbing large steps. This is tantamount to doing a hundred leg presses. If you've ever done weightlifting, you know what I mean. This is the kind of climb that makes your thighs burn.
It doesn't last long, thankfully. We break out onto a more level section of trail and stop at a small tree to get our bearings. The lake is behind us. There is a ridgeline to our right and a massive scree field in front of us, running along the base of the ridgeline. Again, we get out the map and GPS. The trail is gone, so we enjoy trying to figure out where to go next by reading the map and compass and taking advantage of the topographic software Matt has loaded onto his GPS. At first, we surmise that we will probably have to cross the scree field. Upon hiking a bit further, and because of cairns we keep spotting—some quite difficult to locate—we see that we must navigate straight up this hillside to a saddle at the top. We begin making our way over the slickrock that spans the distance between us and the saddle.
Matt isn't too thrilled about the direction of travel as he isn't a big fan of heights and the only direction we're headed is up. With a little encouragement, we continue up towards the saddle. I think I see a cairn at the top and I try to find a reasonable pathway to get there. The hillside is pretty steep so I create my own switchbacks, choosing my way carefully. There are loose rocks everywhere and some steep spots, so the route we choose is important. Before we know it, we break out on top of the saddle.
We have come upon a dry lakebed. How cool. This is the last thing I expected and a fun surprise. It is quiet and cold. We're protected from the wind by the rocky hills surrounding this low spot. Nevertheless, we're not moving anymore, so we begin to get chilly. We're going to rest for a bit, have some food, and check our location, so we put on our fleeces to keep warm. The Stanley shows this lakebed, so we know we're right on track. We're more than halfway to Tokaloo Rock. With a little coaxing, Matt decides to press on with me after our break.
It's a pleasure to navigate the tundra and we come across yet another dry lakebed. It's cold, so we put on all we've got. Matt adds his shell, his fleece hat, and gloves. I do the same, except for the gloves. I would put them on if I had them. We look down a cliff, and across the Tahoma Glacier. We see Pyramid Peak, the goal of our next day hike. We now see that this is no narrow ridgeline as we had expected. We could play a football game up here. Heck, you could land an airplane here. The terrain is expansive. In fact, every aspect of The Mountain is on a scale that is unimaginable. When I planned this day hike, I thought that this would be easy. We'd hike to Tokaloo Rock, then, with the remainder of our day, we'd just bum around a little more on Puyallup Cleaver. Maybe we'd make it up to St. Andrews Rock (although I seriously doubted that). The terrain is rugged and getting from point A to point B is nothing like you might imagine when looking at the map. A hike that looks easy on paper can, in reality, be grueling and difficult, if not dangerous or impossible. For the remainder of the trip, I make jokes about doing a day hike to this point or that peak. Matt grins.
We eventually get to the final ridgeline that leads to Tokaloo Rock. This is a ridgeline on which you cannot play football (making a diving catch would be one heck of a way to go). Matt sits this one out as I proceed carefully, placing each footstep with care. The going is easy initially, but there are a few tough spots that require both hands. One spot has me concerned, but I find a way around rather than over. Although the going is relatively easy at this point, falling one hundred or two hundred feet onto rugged rocks wouldn't do anyone any good. I proceed with caution. Before long, I see a tough looking section ahead. The toughest yet. Being alone and feeling that it wouldn't be worth the risk it would require to get to Tokaloo Rock and see nothing but white (clouds, not snow), I decide to turn back. I'll return for an overnighter with some friends on another occasion. Besides, the weather doesn't seem to be improving any.
Matt and I head back down and none too soon, as gravity wins out over the clouds. The clouds become fog and light rain begins to fall. We have to navigate back down the slickrock and are concerned about, well, the slick rock. We move slowly and step carefully. We're back down to the halfway point relatively quickly...the little tree. We can now relax. We made it down the hard part without cracked skulls or broken legs. From here on, we just follow the trail.
As happens more than once on this hike, the leaves of the Lupine flower collect water droplets, just waiting for my passing so they can leap onto my pant legs and shoes, soaking me from the knees down. By the time we get back to St. Andrews Lake, my shoes are making squishing sounds, since that's what water logged shoes do.
We meet a couple other gluttons for punishment, Stu and Rachel, at St. Andrews Lake, just as the rain is dying down. They began their day at Devils Dream and are hiking together for the benefit of strength in numbers, as they have heard of bears in these here parts. Lies, all lies! Matt stays back, offering to help Stu carry the gallon of water he has just scooped out of the lake. I head on back to camp to unpack and dry off.
Shortly after I get back, the others arrive. Matt whispers to me from the site next to ours, where Stu will be staying, that there are two deer in the camp. As I tend to do, I ignore the fact that I am wet, cold, and uncomfortable, and grab my camera gear, and begin photographing the deer.
After I finish photographing the deer and Matt finishes visiting with Stu and Rachel, we make our way back to home base. Matt wishes out loud that we had a clothesline. Of course, I am prepared for this situation. I whip out some lightweight cord and string it up between two trees. I fail to point out that if I had been prepared for the trail conditions, I wouldn't need the line to dry my clothes on. We hang up a few items on the line, which is mostly sheltered by the two trees to which it's attached, just as it begins to rain again. Thankfully, we're at camp and we can crawl into our tent. We listen to the rat tat tat of rain on the rain fly. When we're in the tent, it's a soothing sound. We warm our hands and bellies with hot lasagna as we sit on our comfortable down sleeping bags. We're dry now. The tent is cozy. It's good to be back. Ahhhh.
Photos of the Hike
Since this is an easy, local hike, we sleep in a bit and spend some time relaxing around camp. One of the first things I do, as the sun rises over Aurora Peak to the East, is to photograph chipmunks. One thing I learn on this hike is that there are zillions of chipmunks in Mount Rainier National Park and there aren't very many squirrels. As I snap away toward the edge of camp, Kerri wanders over. I mention that there are squirrels all over the place darting around—these little guys are amazingly quick. She says "you mean chipmunks?" I say "I don't know. What's the difference?" She explains that chipmunks are tiny with stripes down their backs. Squirrels are larger, darker, and have no stripes (chipmunks are actually a member of the squirrel family). Well, I guess I've got lots of great photos of chipmunks, so I'll have to keep my eyes peeled for squirrels for the duration of our hike.
Tip:
Wear waterproof shoes or boots, and Gore Tex pants or gaiters in the mornings and when it rains. If you don't, you'll get soaked to the bone from the knees down.
There's a long hill leading up to St. Andrews Lake and I'm dragging, probably because of the difficult hike the day before. As usual, I take several breaks on the way up and before we know it, we arrive at the lake. Surprisingly, we see a trail leading up toward Tokaloo Rock. There is no trail indicated on the map, only a climbing route, so this is a pleasant surprise. Unfortunately, the trail won't last for long. We want to see where we're headed, so we pull out the map, compass, and Matt's sweet GPS receiver. We get an idea how far we have to go and verify that the trail is heading off in the right direction. The hiking is easy initially, as we circle along the north shore of St. Andrews Lake. We're actually hiking along the north shore of a largely dry lakebed, as the lake, itself, is really more like a large pond. I wonder where all that water went? Shortly, the trail steepens to the point where we are climbing large steps. This is tantamount to doing a hundred leg presses. If you've ever done weightlifting, you know what I mean. This is the kind of climb that makes your thighs burn.
It doesn't last long, thankfully. We break out onto a more level section of trail and stop at a small tree to get our bearings. The lake is behind us. There is a ridgeline to our right and a massive scree field in front of us, running along the base of the ridgeline. Again, we get out the map and GPS. The trail is gone, so we enjoy trying to figure out where to go next by reading the map and compass and taking advantage of the topographic software Matt has loaded onto his GPS. At first, we surmise that we will probably have to cross the scree field. Upon hiking a bit further, and because of cairns we keep spotting—some quite difficult to locate—we see that we must navigate straight up this hillside to a saddle at the top. We begin making our way over the slickrock that spans the distance between us and the saddle.
Matt isn't too thrilled about the direction of travel as he isn't a big fan of heights and the only direction we're headed is up. With a little encouragement, we continue up towards the saddle. I think I see a cairn at the top and I try to find a reasonable pathway to get there. The hillside is pretty steep so I create my own switchbacks, choosing my way carefully. There are loose rocks everywhere and some steep spots, so the route we choose is important. Before we know it, we break out on top of the saddle.
We have come upon a dry lakebed. How cool. This is the last thing I expected and a fun surprise. It is quiet and cold. We're protected from the wind by the rocky hills surrounding this low spot. Nevertheless, we're not moving anymore, so we begin to get chilly. We're going to rest for a bit, have some food, and check our location, so we put on our fleeces to keep warm. The Stanley shows this lakebed, so we know we're right on track. We're more than halfway to Tokaloo Rock. With a little coaxing, Matt decides to press on with me after our break.
It's a pleasure to navigate the tundra and we come across yet another dry lakebed. It's cold, so we put on all we've got. Matt adds his shell, his fleece hat, and gloves. I do the same, except for the gloves. I would put them on if I had them. We look down a cliff, and across the Tahoma Glacier. We see Pyramid Peak, the goal of our next day hike. We now see that this is no narrow ridgeline as we had expected. We could play a football game up here. Heck, you could land an airplane here. The terrain is expansive. In fact, every aspect of The Mountain is on a scale that is unimaginable. When I planned this day hike, I thought that this would be easy. We'd hike to Tokaloo Rock, then, with the remainder of our day, we'd just bum around a little more on Puyallup Cleaver. Maybe we'd make it up to St. Andrews Rock (although I seriously doubted that). The terrain is rugged and getting from point A to point B is nothing like you might imagine when looking at the map. A hike that looks easy on paper can, in reality, be grueling and difficult, if not dangerous or impossible. For the remainder of the trip, I make jokes about doing a day hike to this point or that peak. Matt grins.
We eventually get to the final ridgeline that leads to Tokaloo Rock. This is a ridgeline on which you cannot play football (making a diving catch would be one heck of a way to go). Matt sits this one out as I proceed carefully, placing each footstep with care. The going is easy initially, but there are a few tough spots that require both hands. One spot has me concerned, but I find a way around rather than over. Although the going is relatively easy at this point, falling one hundred or two hundred feet onto rugged rocks wouldn't do anyone any good. I proceed with caution. Before long, I see a tough looking section ahead. The toughest yet. Being alone and feeling that it wouldn't be worth the risk it would require to get to Tokaloo Rock and see nothing but white (clouds, not snow), I decide to turn back. I'll return for an overnighter with some friends on another occasion. Besides, the weather doesn't seem to be improving any.
Matt and I head back down and none too soon, as gravity wins out over the clouds. The clouds become fog and light rain begins to fall. We have to navigate back down the slickrock and are concerned about, well, the slick rock. We move slowly and step carefully. We're back down to the halfway point relatively quickly...the little tree. We can now relax. We made it down the hard part without cracked skulls or broken legs. From here on, we just follow the trail.
As happens more than once on this hike, the leaves of the Lupine flower collect water droplets, just waiting for my passing so they can leap onto my pant legs and shoes, soaking me from the knees down. By the time we get back to St. Andrews Lake, my shoes are making squishing sounds, since that's what water logged shoes do.
We meet a couple other gluttons for punishment, Stu and Rachel, at St. Andrews Lake, just as the rain is dying down. They began their day at Devils Dream and are hiking together for the benefit of strength in numbers, as they have heard of bears in these here parts. Lies, all lies! Matt stays back, offering to help Stu carry the gallon of water he has just scooped out of the lake. I head on back to camp to unpack and dry off.
Shortly after I get back, the others arrive. Matt whispers to me from the site next to ours, where Stu will be staying, that there are two deer in the camp. As I tend to do, I ignore the fact that I am wet, cold, and uncomfortable, and grab my camera gear, and begin photographing the deer.
After I finish photographing the deer and Matt finishes visiting with Stu and Rachel, we make our way back to home base. Matt wishes out loud that we had a clothesline. Of course, I am prepared for this situation. I whip out some lightweight cord and string it up between two trees. I fail to point out that if I had been prepared for the trail conditions, I wouldn't need the line to dry my clothes on. We hang up a few items on the line, which is mostly sheltered by the two trees to which it's attached, just as it begins to rain again. Thankfully, we're at camp and we can crawl into our tent. We listen to the rat tat tat of rain on the rain fly. When we're in the tent, it's a soothing sound. We warm our hands and bellies with hot lasagna as we sit on our comfortable down sleeping bags. We're dry now. The tent is cozy. It's good to be back. Ahhhh.
Photos of the Hike
September 5th—Klapatche Park to Devils Dream
Last night was the coldest of the hike yet. I have been very impressed by the performance of my 40-degree, 1-pound, 900-fill down Marmot Atom sleeping bag. It was almost enough to keep me comfortable, even when the temperature dropped all the way beyond freezing. We wake up to thick frost on the ground. It's thick enough, in fact, that it takes hours
before it's gone.
It's so cold that I am a bit preoccupied watching the sun hit the tops of hills to the West. It slowly moves down their eastern faces toward us. Eventually, it hits the tops of the trees surrounding our tent and camp site. I grow impatient to feel its warmth, but after enduring more cold, it finally illuminates the Park, the logs, the trail, and, most importantly, me. The ground begins to thaw, I begin to thaw, and the chipmunks come out to a sunny day.
I eat my oatmeal while getting to know Stu a little bit. He's a local, from Kent, and and is finishing the Wonderland Trail. He had done half of it a few years earlier and is wrapping it up this summer. I discover that he's somewhat of a biologist, at least in his spare time, while not working in the energy industry. He can name the genus of most plants, but not their species. He's way ahead of me, in that department. Somehow, we begin to talk about the subtle difference between British English and American English and what, exactly, certain British words mean. Any word ending in "mouth" is simply the name of a city that is located on the mouth of a river. Plymouth is a city at the mouth of the river Ply, Dartmouth is a city located at the mouth of the river Dart, and so on. We continue our conversation for some time. Matt is so kind as to bring me my hot chocolate, which I slurp down pretty quickly, as the water has cooled quite a bit by this time.
Matt has been chatting with Rachel. She began hiking the Wonderland Trail the summer before with some friends, but they got deluged. She doing it alone this time around. I guess her friends had gotten wet enough for a lifetime. She's planning on being at Summerland on the 9th and so are we. We look forward to seeing a familiar face on down the trail although the conditions won't be what we expect.
Since my shoes got soaked yesterday, I'm hiking in my sandals today. It has been wonderful upon arriving at camp each day to be able to take my shoes and socks off and slip into my Tevas. However, today they're a necessity. I really don't want to hike in wet shoes. We depart Klapatche Park around 9:40 AM. It looks like it's going to be a beautiful. As long as it doesn't rain on us again.
As our water filter has performed most poorly, we are going to pursue a different route. Kerri's dad has been filtering water through a handkerchief, then treating it with Clorox. He gives us some extra bleach and we adopt the same system. We stop at St. Andrews Lake, low though it is, and fill up our four Nalgene 1-quart water bottles. Hopefully, the bleach will last us until we get to Longmire and can find an alternative system, possibly buying a new water filter at the store there. Our water now tastes like we're drinking out of a swimming pool. Although we're grateful for the Clorox, we're anxious for another solution to our problem. At least we have a way to kill bugs in the interim.
Not far down the trail, we meet a guy who comes up here with great regularity. He has just spotted an eagle and comments on how late in the season the wildflowers are sticking around. He was just at Bumbershoot yesterday and has driven up the West Side Road, then ridden his mountain bike to the trail head. He's just on a day hike.
By the time we get to the South Puyallup River, it's cloudy. There's a teasing blue patch right overhead. Other than that, just clouds. Shocking.
The South Puyallup River camp is several hundred feet off the trail. Knowing we have a long day ahead of us, we debate taking the detour. We decide to use the toilet and take a lunch break. The South Puyallup River camp toilet is an interesting one. It's literally a toilet on a small wooden platform. That's it. Good ventilation, to say the least. No problem with bugs hovering around. No protection from the rain, though. It's just off the trail, mostly hidden by a large boulder. There is a spot, however, where hikers pass by and can get a peek at your head as you're sitting there. It's probably a good idea to leave your pack (or some other such object) at the trail leading to the toilet so as to warn others of your presence. I get a good self-portrait and a view-from-the-toilet shot, but don't want to offend any viewers of this page and so you won't see those here. Sorry if you're disappointed. You'll need to be sure to check out this point of interest.
The Bumbershoot guy passes by, heading back to his bike, then back down the Westside Road to his car.
Something else you won't want to miss (really!) is the andesite formations. If you find the toilet, you won't miss the andesite. These are huge and bizarre rock formations on a cliff just across the trail. I won't pretend to know anything about it. There's a lot online you can read about it. In any event, don't skip it. It's really cool.
After a nice break, we begin heading up and up and up. I'm really looking forward to Emerald Ridge. I've heard it's beautiful and there is a great view. We are also told of all the marmots up there. Apparently, they are very active and are busy chatting with each other. They let out a constant pitch whistle. That should be fun. The problem is getting there. The trail is long and uphill. Long and downhill is easier, but that will have to wait until evening. Going up to the point of Emerald Ridge and then down the other side, the trail is covered with approximately 2 billion rocks. That number might actually not be too far off. My pack weighs around 50 pounds but feels like it's 60. I'm dragging. My usual hiking technique with regular breaks will have to get me there.
When we are nearly to the top, we meet four day hikers coming back down. We had seen them heading up when we were eating lunch back at the bottom. They're coming back down already because there's nothing to see. Well, there's stuff to see. There's just one important landmark hidden from view. Mount Rainier.
Before we're even to the point, we see marmots hanging out near the trail and hear them warning their brothers of our impending arrival. We also see British Mike reclining against a rock, binocs in hand, scoping out all the activity. Mike is with John whom we had passed about 10 minutes earlier. Mike and John are from Houston and are doing the trail in 14 days, as well, Mowich to Mowich, but clockwise. I drop my pack and run around shooting marmots for probably a half hour. Mike mosies down from his perch near a stand of trees on a small hump near the point and chats with Matt. I finish my photography and head back to the party. Mike is sure enjoying his hike, taking it all in. He heads down the trail to meet up with John. Matt and I chill.
To make a long story short, I talk Matt into hanging around for several hours in hopes that the clouds will clear so I can get a totally sweet sunset shot of some mountain that is supposed to be around here somewhere. Of course we get out the map, compass, and GPS and try to figure out where things would be were there no clouds to block our view of them. Don't know if they're really there or not.
Although I am convinced that it will clear, I come to the realization that it won't before the sun sets. We book it. We have a long way to go. Although my feet are thrashed, the rest has been good. We're going downhill. We book. Before we're halfway down the north slope of Emerald Ridge, it clears. We can see a rocky stub of a mountain poking through the trees and through the surrounding hills. I get a few low-light shots, handheld, just for proof. We continue on. Within a few minutes, it's too dark to hike over the loose rocks safely. I get out my headlamp and we continue our pace.
It's quite dark by the time we get to the towering Tahoma Creek suspension bridge. I suspect Matt minds crossing it less than he would in daylight. Although we can see the river bed, it's not as distracting as it would be in broad day light. Although I don't mind heights, the crossing is annoying. My tripod is mounted to the bottom of my backpack and protrudes off to one side quite a ways. With each cable (of which there are dozens), my tripod snags. I quickly begin to rotate my body when I come to the next one. When we cross the Carbon Glacier suspension bridge later in the hike, I will simply remove my tripod from the pack and walk across easily.
After getting to the other side, we begin the agonizing hike up the switchbacks toward Indian Henry's Hunting ground. The day has been pretty long. I'm wearing sandals. I'm fat and out of shape. This climb is a big struggle for me. I rest with great regularity. Matt is patient, as always. I drink a bunch of water. At least the weight of the water is off my back now, even if it is still on my feet. That's irrelevant. I need the hydration and that's the key. I'm miserable and I don't hesitate to point that out. Matt tolerates my complaining in silence.
Although Squaw Lake is just before Devils Dream camp, we come to a nice stream right on the trail. We're not sure how difficult it will be to get water from the lake, so we stop at the stream. It has been getting colder and colder as we climb up from Tahoma Creek. I put my expedition weight fleece on. By the time we're done filling up our water bottles after filtering the water through a hankie, we're freezing. Our hands are numb. I'm thinking about having a hot dinner and dropping my pack for the night. Heck, maybe I'll just get in my sleeping bag. I just want to get warm. We're feeling pretty miserable right now. Actually, I'm dreading getting to camp. I don't want to have to set up camp while freezing to death. Although it feels good to get the pack off for a few minutes, putting it back on is almost worse than if I had just left it on. We head out.
As we get closer to Devils Dream, the trail levels out. We're moving again and our hands and bodies have warmed back up. Up and down take effort. Level is easy. I'm feeling good. I'm feeling encouraged. It's quiet and peaceful. It's been a tough day, but it looks like it's going to end right. Am I fickle, or what? Things can change fast out here, just like the weather does.
We get to Devils Dream at 10:40 PM. I walk past the group site down to the first individual site. Matt doesn't follow me down the hill. Smart guy. Wilson and Sophia (from Ukraine) just got in, too. They got a late start from Longmire. They tell me all the sites are full. I hike back up to the group site and inform Matt. We drop our packs and get to work. It's good to be here. I don't really care that we're getting such a late start. We can sleep in tomorrow morning. We'll be here two nights. I'm looking forward to an easy day hike tomorrow.
Photos of the Hike
It's so cold that I am a bit preoccupied watching the sun hit the tops of hills to the West. It slowly moves down their eastern faces toward us. Eventually, it hits the tops of the trees surrounding our tent and camp site. I grow impatient to feel its warmth, but after enduring more cold, it finally illuminates the Park, the logs, the trail, and, most importantly, me. The ground begins to thaw, I begin to thaw, and the chipmunks come out to a sunny day.
I eat my oatmeal while getting to know Stu a little bit. He's a local, from Kent, and and is finishing the Wonderland Trail. He had done half of it a few years earlier and is wrapping it up this summer. I discover that he's somewhat of a biologist, at least in his spare time, while not working in the energy industry. He can name the genus of most plants, but not their species. He's way ahead of me, in that department. Somehow, we begin to talk about the subtle difference between British English and American English and what, exactly, certain British words mean. Any word ending in "mouth" is simply the name of a city that is located on the mouth of a river. Plymouth is a city at the mouth of the river Ply, Dartmouth is a city located at the mouth of the river Dart, and so on. We continue our conversation for some time. Matt is so kind as to bring me my hot chocolate, which I slurp down pretty quickly, as the water has cooled quite a bit by this time.
Matt has been chatting with Rachel. She began hiking the Wonderland Trail the summer before with some friends, but they got deluged. She doing it alone this time around. I guess her friends had gotten wet enough for a lifetime. She's planning on being at Summerland on the 9th and so are we. We look forward to seeing a familiar face on down the trail although the conditions won't be what we expect.
Since my shoes got soaked yesterday, I'm hiking in my sandals today. It has been wonderful upon arriving at camp each day to be able to take my shoes and socks off and slip into my Tevas. However, today they're a necessity. I really don't want to hike in wet shoes. We depart Klapatche Park around 9:40 AM. It looks like it's going to be a beautiful. As long as it doesn't rain on us again.
As our water filter has performed most poorly, we are going to pursue a different route. Kerri's dad has been filtering water through a handkerchief, then treating it with Clorox. He gives us some extra bleach and we adopt the same system. We stop at St. Andrews Lake, low though it is, and fill up our four Nalgene 1-quart water bottles. Hopefully, the bleach will last us until we get to Longmire and can find an alternative system, possibly buying a new water filter at the store there. Our water now tastes like we're drinking out of a swimming pool. Although we're grateful for the Clorox, we're anxious for another solution to our problem. At least we have a way to kill bugs in the interim.
Not far down the trail, we meet a guy who comes up here with great regularity. He has just spotted an eagle and comments on how late in the season the wildflowers are sticking around. He was just at Bumbershoot yesterday and has driven up the West Side Road, then ridden his mountain bike to the trail head. He's just on a day hike.
By the time we get to the South Puyallup River, it's cloudy. There's a teasing blue patch right overhead. Other than that, just clouds. Shocking.
The South Puyallup River camp is several hundred feet off the trail. Knowing we have a long day ahead of us, we debate taking the detour. We decide to use the toilet and take a lunch break. The South Puyallup River camp toilet is an interesting one. It's literally a toilet on a small wooden platform. That's it. Good ventilation, to say the least. No problem with bugs hovering around. No protection from the rain, though. It's just off the trail, mostly hidden by a large boulder. There is a spot, however, where hikers pass by and can get a peek at your head as you're sitting there. It's probably a good idea to leave your pack (or some other such object) at the trail leading to the toilet so as to warn others of your presence. I get a good self-portrait and a view-from-the-toilet shot, but don't want to offend any viewers of this page and so you won't see those here. Sorry if you're disappointed. You'll need to be sure to check out this point of interest.
The Bumbershoot guy passes by, heading back to his bike, then back down the Westside Road to his car.
Something else you won't want to miss (really!) is the andesite formations. If you find the toilet, you won't miss the andesite. These are huge and bizarre rock formations on a cliff just across the trail. I won't pretend to know anything about it. There's a lot online you can read about it. In any event, don't skip it. It's really cool.
After a nice break, we begin heading up and up and up. I'm really looking forward to Emerald Ridge. I've heard it's beautiful and there is a great view. We are also told of all the marmots up there. Apparently, they are very active and are busy chatting with each other. They let out a constant pitch whistle. That should be fun. The problem is getting there. The trail is long and uphill. Long and downhill is easier, but that will have to wait until evening. Going up to the point of Emerald Ridge and then down the other side, the trail is covered with approximately 2 billion rocks. That number might actually not be too far off. My pack weighs around 50 pounds but feels like it's 60. I'm dragging. My usual hiking technique with regular breaks will have to get me there.
When we are nearly to the top, we meet four day hikers coming back down. We had seen them heading up when we were eating lunch back at the bottom. They're coming back down already because there's nothing to see. Well, there's stuff to see. There's just one important landmark hidden from view. Mount Rainier.
Before we're even to the point, we see marmots hanging out near the trail and hear them warning their brothers of our impending arrival. We also see British Mike reclining against a rock, binocs in hand, scoping out all the activity. Mike is with John whom we had passed about 10 minutes earlier. Mike and John are from Houston and are doing the trail in 14 days, as well, Mowich to Mowich, but clockwise. I drop my pack and run around shooting marmots for probably a half hour. Mike mosies down from his perch near a stand of trees on a small hump near the point and chats with Matt. I finish my photography and head back to the party. Mike is sure enjoying his hike, taking it all in. He heads down the trail to meet up with John. Matt and I chill.
To make a long story short, I talk Matt into hanging around for several hours in hopes that the clouds will clear so I can get a totally sweet sunset shot of some mountain that is supposed to be around here somewhere. Of course we get out the map, compass, and GPS and try to figure out where things would be were there no clouds to block our view of them. Don't know if they're really there or not.
Although I am convinced that it will clear, I come to the realization that it won't before the sun sets. We book it. We have a long way to go. Although my feet are thrashed, the rest has been good. We're going downhill. We book. Before we're halfway down the north slope of Emerald Ridge, it clears. We can see a rocky stub of a mountain poking through the trees and through the surrounding hills. I get a few low-light shots, handheld, just for proof. We continue on. Within a few minutes, it's too dark to hike over the loose rocks safely. I get out my headlamp and we continue our pace.
It's quite dark by the time we get to the towering Tahoma Creek suspension bridge. I suspect Matt minds crossing it less than he would in daylight. Although we can see the river bed, it's not as distracting as it would be in broad day light. Although I don't mind heights, the crossing is annoying. My tripod is mounted to the bottom of my backpack and protrudes off to one side quite a ways. With each cable (of which there are dozens), my tripod snags. I quickly begin to rotate my body when I come to the next one. When we cross the Carbon Glacier suspension bridge later in the hike, I will simply remove my tripod from the pack and walk across easily.
After getting to the other side, we begin the agonizing hike up the switchbacks toward Indian Henry's Hunting ground. The day has been pretty long. I'm wearing sandals. I'm fat and out of shape. This climb is a big struggle for me. I rest with great regularity. Matt is patient, as always. I drink a bunch of water. At least the weight of the water is off my back now, even if it is still on my feet. That's irrelevant. I need the hydration and that's the key. I'm miserable and I don't hesitate to point that out. Matt tolerates my complaining in silence.
Although Squaw Lake is just before Devils Dream camp, we come to a nice stream right on the trail. We're not sure how difficult it will be to get water from the lake, so we stop at the stream. It has been getting colder and colder as we climb up from Tahoma Creek. I put my expedition weight fleece on. By the time we're done filling up our water bottles after filtering the water through a hankie, we're freezing. Our hands are numb. I'm thinking about having a hot dinner and dropping my pack for the night. Heck, maybe I'll just get in my sleeping bag. I just want to get warm. We're feeling pretty miserable right now. Actually, I'm dreading getting to camp. I don't want to have to set up camp while freezing to death. Although it feels good to get the pack off for a few minutes, putting it back on is almost worse than if I had just left it on. We head out.
As we get closer to Devils Dream, the trail levels out. We're moving again and our hands and bodies have warmed back up. Up and down take effort. Level is easy. I'm feeling good. I'm feeling encouraged. It's quiet and peaceful. It's been a tough day, but it looks like it's going to end right. Am I fickle, or what? Things can change fast out here, just like the weather does.
We get to Devils Dream at 10:40 PM. I walk past the group site down to the first individual site. Matt doesn't follow me down the hill. Smart guy. Wilson and Sophia (from Ukraine) just got in, too. They got a late start from Longmire. They tell me all the sites are full. I hike back up to the group site and inform Matt. We drop our packs and get to work. It's good to be here. I don't really care that we're getting such a late start. We can sleep in tomorrow morning. We'll be here two nights. I'm looking forward to an easy day hike tomorrow.
Photos of the Hike
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