Adventures in Wonderland: Day 8, The Journey Ends, But it's Not Over

Mowich Lake (final destination)

I'm not sure if, in speaking the above quote, Mr. Gardner meant the "wilderness" of soul where one feels small and insignificant and completely helpless when left to his own devices, or if he meant the literal wilderness, such as that in which Emily and I woke up the morning that we would begin the final leg of our journey. Either way, I'm not sure I have ever prayed so much in my life as I did on that mountain. When we hiked in silence, I hiked with my Lord and our Mother, Mary. I prayed us over a snowy mountain pass, up miles of tedious ascents to sub alpine meadows, through dark, low lying forests, over log bridges that crossed raging and angry waters of fresh glacial melt, over a high hanging suspension bridge, on unsteady ground with views of river valleys far below, and most of the way around this beautiful thing I like to call, "My Mountain". I felt I had been given inspirations, consolations and a greater appreciation for many things I used to take for granted, because of this, I am certain Mr. Gardner had to have meant the literal wilderness that we have been blessed with in our National Parks.

Shortly before dawn I awoke to the most unusual sound. It was loud and not like any noise I had ever heard before. Then I heard it again, and again. Each time it got farther and farther away. Emily lie there listening too. We guessed an owl? No, we have heard owls before and this certainly wasn't an owl. Other than that, however, we hadn't a clue. As we lie there we heard people from another camp site guessing at what the unknown animal could have been. They didn't seem to know either (now, however, after looking up animal sounds online I think it was most likely a fox).

As the sun came up (yes, we think that bright yellow light which we hadn't seen much of in two days came from the sun) we remained inactive as we tried to figure out where to begin. Everything we had was damp- from our clothes to our sleeping bags to our backpacks. I ended up wearing what I wore to sleep simply because it was somewhat warm. We found our driest socks and wrapped our feet in plastic bags before we stuck them in our wet boots. All the blisters on my feet had been renewed by the wet hike the previous day, so I knew it was going to be another painful day of hiking. Then I put on my wet fleece jacket and damp gators over my pants. Before packing all our wet gear I grabbed a bite of soft pita bread spread with almond butter.

Golden Lake near where we camped.

Leaving camp, we checked out the great views that we had read about in the guide book. We were able to take in one last semi-blocked view of Rainier's summit and we could see Golden Lakes from campsite #4. We were above 5000' elevation and looking down it was obvious that we would soon be moving into the clouds as we descended into the Mowich River Valley. Today's hike began much like yesterday's ended; in wet, soggy blueberry bushes and wild bleeding hearts that hung over the narrow path that was the Wonderland Trail. Again, the blueberries were delicious and with the sun shining, the wetness wasn't such a bother. Soon, though, we descended into the forest, dark and damp, it reminded me of the The Wizard of Oz when Dorothy was afraid of the lions, tigers, and bears (resist the urge to say "Oh my", please).

Looking down at the fog over the Mowich Valley.

The forest was silent and ghostly in the fog.

We had about 5 miles of downhill switchbacks. To bide the time we counted 36 in all!! We played a silly game to keep track of what number we were on. For the eighth switchback we challenged ourselves to name the eight Beatitudes. For the 17th we named seventeen Presidents. We ended up naming twenty-one things we were grateful for, sixteen different types of trees, ten Commandments and many, many more. It made the miles go relatively quickly and our minds got a workout as well as our legs.

At the bottom we reached the Mowich Rivers. John H. Williams wrote that the Mowich Rivers were given their names by Native Americans after seeing the figure of a deer (or "mowich" in the Chinook language) in the rock and ice on Rainier's northwest flank. Now, over one hundred years later the deer head can still be seen today. We were unfortunate that the weather was foggy and didn't get to see the deer head that Mr. Williams wrote about. 

We crossed over the river twice. After the second crossing we ate lunch. I had been feeling an uneasy squishiness in my boots for awhile so I sat down on a rock and took off my boots. Even with the plastic bags on each foot I could wring out a steady stream of water from my socks. It felt good to sit and relax on the warm rocks, however, Emily was anxious to get going and, all too soon, we hefted our heavier than usual wet packs back in place. As usual every great downhill ascent was followed by an equally great uphill climb. The way up and away from the river valley was steep and the forest was dark and damp. We climbed into the clouds but our exertion kept us warm.

I loved observing all the different mushrooms and tree fungi and looking at the fallen giants. I imagined what it was like the moment some of those large trees toppled over. Emily and I hiked at different paces and alone, each lost in our own thoughts. I was somewhat sad that I wouldn't be completing the whole 93 miles in one trip but my discomfort trumped that disappointment and I began to look forward to a long hot shower. We didn't pass many people but I felt keenly aware of my stench when we happened upon other hikers.

We had three miles of uphill trekking and it was a tough go! I would take uphill climbing over downhill any day, but this day seemed to last forever! By the time we arrived at Mowich Lake it was raining pretty hard and there was no real shelter to stay dry. The original plan was to set up our tent and stay the night, but at this point we would be going home. We waited for our friend, Aaron, to pick us up. When he finally got there he may as well have been Santa Claus. He brought some freshly made Subway sandwiches that we devoured as though we hadn't eaten in days. We weren't exactly starving, but we were seriously craving fresh food!

The final paragraph in my journal, which I wrote while waiting to get picked up at Mowich Lake Campground, goes as follows:

"We did see some beautiful waterfalls before we reached the end of our journey at Mowich Lake. It is cold and rainy and we still have over an hour before we planned on meeting Aaron with our next food supply. He still doesn't know he will be picking us up to go home. And so we wait. At least the rain has stopped....for now."

It feels incomplete to me, and it is. The final chapter waits to be written, but it can't be written until it is experienced. Getting away from the busyness of life and realizing what I was truly capable of, as well as what I was truly vulnerable to gave me a whole new perspective on everyday life. I am independent but I am not invincible. I value the freedom I have to explore and enjoy the population sparse back country, however, I value even more the people in my life who give me purpose.

Pictures from Our Final Day:

I love how this looks like a photo from the logging days of this region.

Morning faces after eight days in the wild.

Chrystal clear Mowich Lake.

Drying my feet before the last crossing of the Mowich Rivers

Did these trees make a noise when they fell with nobody around?

Aaron was captivated by the "Camp Robbers" that ate out of his hands.

 

Happy to be heading home.

The are some real "fun guys"!