From Wildfire to Burnt Toast: May 2014

Looking back on this day, it was one of my favorite days of the hike, but probably the day that changed Emily's mind about the outcome of our journey. It was certainly a pivotal day for me in that I realized my feet, with a little tender loving care, could, in fact carry me the rest of the way.

The sun rose early but we didn't stir for quite awhile. The very idea of getting up and hiking kept us in our tent longer than usual. I moved my toes around in the bottom of my sleeping bag. To my surprise, they felt so much better than the previous night. When we finally emerged from our tent I was relieved that walking was not as painful as it had been.

With nothing more than a Lemon Zest Luna Bar for breakfast, we headed out of camp. Before getting too far we filled up our water bottles at the silty Pyramid Creek. The water was cloudy and a bit gritty but we purified it and it tasted fine.

The trail started out uphill and we didn't stop hiking uphill for three and a half hours. The bugs nipped at us every chance they could even through our clothing and I was helpless without bug spray. (Although, I'm convinced that the mosquitoes and flies around Rainier are immune to the stuff) I was thankful for my head net. In fact, I don't think I would have enjoyed much of anything without it. Earlier on during our trek we saw a woman in full body mosquito gear, a net covering her whole body. I am ashamed to admit that I snickered under my breath at the excessiveness of it all, by this time, however, I wanted one of my own!

The scenery was monotonous as it didn't change from the shadowy forest setting for the first half of the day, but after awhile the trees opened up to flower-filled meadows and high alpine shrubbery. In the sunlight the variety of flying insects were highlighted as they busily flitted this way and that. The bees bounced from wildflower to wildflower fulfilling their God-given purpose, while the flies and mosquitoes flew aimlessly looking for their next meal, and the butterflies adorned the path with their array of color and gracefulness.

As we approached Indian Henry's Hunting Ground, we saw a sight that I had been hoping to see from day one; a young black bear leisurely meandering along the edge of a pond that separated him from us. We stopped in our tracks and pulled out our cameras. He wasn't very near but near enough to enjoy the sight of him without fear. This filled me with joy as I had been a little disappointed in the lack of wildlife thus far. I must add here that earlier that day Emily told me that she had been praying that we wouldn't see a bear, which prompted me to silently pray a Rosary in hopes to see one. There was a brief moment where the bear looked up and our eyes met before he jaunted off into the woods in the opposite direction.

Not a very good picture, but proof of our bear sighting!

The low hum of insects became our background music and now that we were out of the shade of the forest and into meadows and sunlight we were constantly attacked by bugs. Flailing arms and trekking poles would have been a hiking hazard to anyone passing by too closely. Nearly the entire day, however, other than each other, we saw no one. A few hundred feet before reaching Indian Henry's, amidst the hypnotizing hum of bees and the quiet rhythm of our footsteps, I was jolted to full awareness by Emily wailing the alarm of one under attack. I turned around, my heart racing, fearing the worst.

"Something just bit me!!" she shrieked.

Her hat and head net already lying on the ground at her feet, I figured the 'something' must have just bit her on the head. Sure enough, a fat bee flew out from her head net unscathed. It had stung her on the forehead. Frustrated at the unprovoked attack of semi-venomous creatures, Emily seemed to me to be unable to thoroughly enjoy the rest of the day.

At Indian Henry's Hunting Ground, (or should I be politically correct and call it 'Native American' Henry's Hunting Ground?) a big open meadow gave way to an amazing view of Mt. Rainier's summit. At one end of the meadow sat an old patrol cabin - the oldest in the Park that is still in use, since 1915. This day, however, there were no rangers on duty. We sat on the benches on it's front porch and ate our lunch. As I sat there I imagined seeing the meadow in it's heyday.

According to Hiking the Wonderland Trail, by Tami Asars, this area is rich in history. To the west was Mt. Ararat, named by Ben Longmire who wrote,

"I named it because I found there some long slabs of wood that had turned to stone and I thought they might have been part of old Noah's boat. I also found a stump with a ring around it as if his rope might have been tied there. It was all stone." (quoted in Dee Molenaar's The Challenge of Rainier)

Indian Henry's Hunting Ground itself comes with its own stories. Two pioneer explorers are said to have first encountered a friendly Native American man in 1862 near Mt. Rainier. When they asked his name he said what sounded like, "Sotolick." As legend has it, since that name was too difficult to pronounce the pioneers decided to rename him Indian Henry. History has it that Indian Henry had recently had contact with Jesuit missionaries and might have been trying to say 'Catholic', but the truth belongs to Indian Henry himself.

The patrol cabin at Indian Henry's Hunting Ground

What is known is that Indian Henry had three wives, a successful farm and a log home. He spoke broken English and three different Native American dialects. This area of Mt. Rainier, where we sat at that point in time, was once actually used by Indian Henry for hunting, grazing his horses and cattle, and picking berries. Among the Native Americans and pioneers alike, he was deemed quite wealthy.

Meadow view from the patrol cabin's front porch.

It was easy for me to get lost in imagining this place bustling with the activities of so many years ago, but the bugs found us and just sitting there we became easy targets. The trail ahead was flat and meandering and soon began to descend back into the forest. We were glad to be in the shade once more where the incessant biting wound down. The path was smooth and easy going but the downhill angle caused misery to my feet! In the distance we could hear the rushing sound of a very fast river and off and on we could see views of the swiftly flowing, muddy brown river; Tahoma Creek.

At last, we came to a place that was on my summer bucket list last year: Tahoma Creek Suspension Bridge. I never got around to checking it off my list last summer, but now was my opportunity to do so. Approximately 150 feet long and more than 200 feet high, this massive bridge spans the angry Tahoma Creek far below. I have a passion in my soul for suspension bridges. There is just something about being suspended in the air by a swaying and bouncing bridge that thrills me to the core. A cool breeze flowed off the Tahoma Glacier and down the path of the river. It blew my hair and rosied my cheeks. I could hear nothing but the rumbling of the river far beneath my feet. We took our time and many pictures. This was yet another 'favorite' moment on the Wonderland Trail.

Tahoma Creek Suspension Bridge

The thrills of our fifth day were far from over. After the bridge, we climbed a relentless 3.2 miles up, up and up! The scenery moved from forest to volcanic and sub alpine terrain. We were among the few fortunate people that day to take in the view of Success Divide, on the flank of Rainier and the rocky and barren moraine of Success Cleaver above the divide. Just slightly to the northeast was the rocky Glacier Island, tucked between the Tahoma and the South Tahoma glaciers looking like a large, stone, crumbling tower.

Tahoma Glacier

As we approached Emerald Ridge we discovered the reason for it's name; a green grassy meadow provided the perfect spot to stop and take in the surrounding views. The odd view of the mountain from this angle made Rainier seem decrepit, ancient and fragile. The summit seemed only an arm's reach away. Coming around the corner of Emerald Ridge we were greeted with another breathtaking view of the glacier carved landscape. A bright orange rocky 'scar' was left behind from the retreating glacier over so many years ago and it surrounded the muddy South Puyallup River. Mountains were visible from every angle. Being there provided one of those moments when you feel the overpowering sense of insignificance. Not in a negative, but a comforting way. The feeling of being so small that all the problems in our lives that we perceive to be huge seemed to lose their importance. This was God's country and right then, to me, it felt as though He held us lovingly in His hands.

Rainier from Emerald Ridge

Rocky and barren moraine of Success Cleaver

Walking the narrow, crumbly path near Emerald Ridge.

Beginning the descent to South Puyallup River Camp

From there we began the excruciating decline to the South Puyallup River Camp where we would stay the night. The ground was rocky and unstable, the worst stuff for blistered feet and mine were beginning to tell me they wanted to be done walking for the day. We moved at a snail's pace making sure each step was stable before moving the other foot. Eventually, not far from camp, we reached a clear running creek and filled up our water supply.

At camp, we took the first available site, #4. The most difficult hike of every day is when you reach camp and then have to hike the little trail to your site. When we first began hiking the Wonderland Trail we were picky, but this day we would have been happy to set up our tent in the middle of the trail and call it good.

We unloaded our gear and with great anticipation I began to make our long awaited 'half-way to the end' celebration dessert of ~~cardboard soup~~ "banana cream pie". It sounded so good but tasted so bad! My appetite throughout the hike had been unusually low but this destroyed it altogether. While cleaning our dishes we could hear the distant sound of thunder. This made Emily very uneasy.

I usually like a good thunderstorm but I'll admit it was a little creepy, especially as the storm drew closer and closer. Each clap echoed off the rocky walls of the mountain making it all the more intense. Emily's anxiety grew and soon she was talking about going home....now!! The wind began to blow and we both crawled into the tent. Between the wind, the thunder and Emily worrying about the trees falling on us, I thought I'd never get to sleep. We laid there listening as the storm came closer. I began to grow uneasy and asked Emily if she wanted to say the Rosary with me. She did.

I wasn't surprised, as I have full confidence in the power of God and the help of His Blessed Mother, but I was amazed that as we spoke the final prayers of the Rosary, the thunderstorm had passed and the wind died down completely. On top of that the sun shone for the last hour of daylight.

I thanked the Good Lord for this day and fell asleep scratching the numerous bug bites that covered my arms and legs.