For our fourth wedding anniversary, we decided to celebrate by backpacking a section of Mt. Rainier National Park. When we arrived at the Longmire Visitor's Center, we asked the ranger for his recommendation of a ten to fifteen mile overnight hike. He pulled out several maps, rubbed his beard, and mumbled, "Well, let's see," repeatedly. Not necessarily encouraging! He first recommended a trail leading to the Pyramid Creek wilderness camp, but changed his mind when he remembered the bridge was out. Then he pointed us towards a trail leading out from Paradise, but soon remembered the trail was still closed for the winter. Finally, he directed us to the Kautz Creek trail, though he warned us that we would have to forge the creek, and that we might need snowshoes in order to complete the trail. As it was warm enough to wear a tank top, we were sure that he was perhaps confused about just how much snow we would encounter, and forging a creek didn't sound like anything we couldn't handle. So we signed up for our wilderness permit (which is always a bit disconcerting, as you have to give an emergency number "just in case"), laced up our hiking boots, strapped on our packs, and headed out into the wilderness.
During the first mile of the trail, we met a group of rangers who warned us that we would have to forge the river up ahead, but were quick to tell us that we could do it without any problems. Despite the fact that what one ranger called a creek, another had called a river, we were not yet worried. Before we could reach the section of waterway in question, we had to walk across a rickety log precariously perched above a raging, five-star rapid river - not exactly my favorite moment of the trip. But we made it, and Ted, as usual, paused to enjoy the view from the bridge while I put one foot in front of the other and reminded myself to breathe until I touched dry land. Once we were safely across, we made our way through mounds of gray volcanic soil, and came upon the part of the river that we would have to forge. Though the path was treacherous, we managed to wend our way between rocks, tree stumps, felled logs, and mud to get to the other side (with the ranger's help). With the river behind us, we were free to climb 2,000 feet in three miles unimpeded. And we thought it would get easier after the river!!!
It took us nearly four hours to reach a vista point for lunch, and we had barely been three miles! Between the weight of the packs, and the steep incline, we were making terrible time. But we had gotten an early start, the day was unseasonably warm, the sun was shining, and the forrest smelled of warmed pine and cedar. And at least we were back in the wilderness, and away from the noises and stressors of civilized life. There is something about feeling my muscles stretch and strain that makes me feel euphoric and alive, as does pumping and filtering my own water, and preparing food under the open sky. It feels right - as though my body remembers how to live more simply, and wants more of the same. I feel more calm, more at peace, when the only thing required of me is to touch the earth, breathe the aromas of the forest, and scout out a place to pitch my tent. Laughing comes more easily, as does breathing fully and being able to empty my mind. For these reasons, backpacking is addictive, and we literally go through withdrawal if too many weeks pass without an excursion into the wilderness to renew us.
After lunch, we pulled on our packs and forced our legs to continue the uphill climb. Barely a half mile into the climb, we encountered a strange bird that we had never before seen - a small bird with a black body and a fuzzy white crest who had a deep, rumbling call. At least, Ted thought the bird was making the noise in question, and began to imitate it to entice the bird closer. The noise became louder with each imitation, and the bird began to look around, as though confused about the source of the sound. All of this was rather amusing, until the bird flew away, and the rumbling became a growl. We quickly realized we were not dealing with a mere bird. Though we never saw the creature from which the sound emanated (and let me mention that we were glad not to meet it face to face), we were frightened enough to use "the whistle" (every backcountry hiker's standby), and stood close together so as to appear bigger to the animal in question. After several loud whistles, the creature stopped growling, and we continued along the trail, albeit with trembling legs and racing hearts. Thank goodness for the whistle!
Shortly after passing the creature's territory, we came upon another bridge that led to . . . Snow! Yes, feet upon feet of snow, despite the fact that it was nearly seventy degrees. The snow was so deep and covered so much land, that we were not able to continue further without snowshoes and a topo map. So - two points for the ranger, and 0 points for us on the "well, I know what the ranger said, but we are master hikers capable of any feat" scale. So, it was back through the creature's territory and towards a precariously placed camping spot on the side of a hill (though we did have amazing views of what we named "Bat Cave Mountain" due to the fact there was a snow spot in the exact shape of the Batman crest). We slept soundly through the night, and though some creature ate a bit of our trail mix during our slumber, it obviously did not like M&M's and saved the majority of the trail mix for us.
The hike down the mountain only took an hour, which was good, as we were racing to beat the rain across the river. We drove towards Paradise, but the main portion of Rainier was hiding behind ominous grey clouds. Because of the impending weather, we opted to cut our outing short and finish celebrating our anniversary with the traditional dinner and a movie. And if you have to know - we did go see the "Da Vinci Code", and it was incredibly thought provoking. But I'll save the movie review for another blog. Hope you are all out enjoying the spring weather!
Posting By: Rebecca
Photo By: Ted (Kautz Creek - taken at the "three mile bridge")
P.S. Thank you to all of you readers who lovingly reminded me to get on and post more material. I appreciate your comments!
The other day, Ted asked me if I had touched the ground over the course of the day. Of course I had touched the ground that day - hadn't I? After all, I had walked downtown, walked to the mailbox, and sat on the porch. Walking requires touching the ground, right? Wrong-if you define the ground as the earth. My feet had touched pavement, but my feet had not touched the earth itself. All of a sudden, the thought struck me that touching the earth requires a conscious and mindful act in most parts of the country. The simple act of sinking my feet into the grass (or dirt, depending on the area of the country I'm in) requires me to find an area that is not covered in pavement, to take off my shoes, and to intentionally linger with the earth.
