Days Like This

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Geo: 46.7855, -121.734

I returned to Seattle on Monday, after almost a week of travels in Texas and Nevada. Although I wanted to get back on the road again, I decided to wait a couple days. One thing I have been learning the past few months is to really listen to my body, to my gut, to my soul, and act accordingly. I reeeally wanted to leave for Canada on Wednesday, but Tuesday night I just felt my body telling me that if I left in the morning, I would be rushing it. I'm already a month "behind schedule", so who cares anymore. As Kev from Hood River said: just let life take ya.

So I took a couple days in Seattle to wind down (since my life is so tough and trying) and get myself back on track before moving on to something new. Paradise, at the base of Mount Rainier, was recommended to me. A 2 1/2 hour drive from Seattle, but I figured why not.

Although Colorado has a higher peak (Mt Elbert, by 22 feet, big whoop), Rainier can sit on the Colorado mountains like your old, fat cousin or big brother used to sit on you and crush you as a kid. They don't stand a chance. With a topographic prominence greater than that of K2 (according to Wikipedia), there is nothing else that can even compare to it. It's HUGE! From certain points in Seattle on a clear day, you can see the skyscrapers in downtown, just a couple miles away, and they are still shorter than Mt Rainier, nearly 100 miles off, triumphantly declaring that it is boss!

Although it was a mostly clear day, when I got to Paradise most of the mountain was covered in clouds. Plus I couldn't find my camera. Drats. Oh well. It was nice to be out. Jered and Sarah told me that there were a number of trails, even including paved trails that went all over the place. Let me just say that out of about a 5-mile hike, I saw maybe 200 feet of trail. The rest was snow! There were a couple places where I would be standing on a mound of snow 10 or 12 feet high, and just a few feet in front of me, but 10 feet down, was the trail, disappearing into the massive drift I was standing on. I met a woman who told me she comes out there every year the first week of August, and normally the entire mountainside is free of snow and blanketed in wildflowers. For every step taken, you slide back about a third of a step. Like walking on sand, so much more tiring than normal. Any time the trail actually dried out, I felt like I was hauling! Like at the airport when you are walking down the terminal and then you get on one of the moving escalators. Incredible! And within about 10 minutes of getting there, the mountain cleared off, and I had unobstructed views of it for the entire hike! The first half of the hike was marked with little NPS flags so that people wouldn't get lost. About 3 miles in, the flags disappeared (probably to hint to people not to go any further), as did all but 2 or 3 sets of footprints, possibly a day old. Earlier, I had found a clean trash bag on the side of the trail, and was excited to do some sledding! I got to a spot where I could have glissaded for a hundred yards or more on a good decline, but the trail seemed to go straight across the snowfield. Not wanting to have to climb all the way back up if I slid down and was wrong, I hiked straight across, only to find that, a few hundred feet later, the trail switched back and took me to the bottom of where the glissade would have taken me. DRATS!!! I was so bummed!

For the next hour, I didn't see a soul. Nobody was on that part of the "trail", still unmarked and wild, following rogue footprints that I hoped knew where they were going. (for much of this section I could see the parking area far off, so I always at least knew where I needed to end up). I thoroughly enjoyed myself. Run, jump, sliiiiide!!! Run, jump, sliiiiiiiide!!! The snow was bumpy and soft, and this was a good way to spell disaster by twisting a leg, ripping a ligament, and spending the night on the ankle of Mt Rainier. There was a family with two small children where I crossed that first big snowfield. They decided not to cross, for the sake of the children. When I decided to go for it, I said to them, "Well, hopefully you won't see me on the news tonight!" "Me too!" said the mother, "...what's your name?" Hehe. I still managed to get in quite a few good slides using the trash bag I found. My ass numb, a soccer ball sized lump of snow forming in my crotch, and both feet looking like giant, white, fuzzy ugs from the snow accumulation. I giggled like a schoolboy!

By the time I got back to the road and a 1/2 mile treck back to the parking area, I was able to literally pour water out of my boots. It was so much fun though! And every turn in the wild hike gave the most incredible views of the Rainier summit and surrounding mountain ranges, of snowfields and glaciers, cliffs of stone that, although small from a distance, must have stood thousands of feet high. It was strange to think that, at the parking area and an elevation of roughly 5400 feet, the summit, which did not look that far away, still stood almost two vertical miles higher, at 14,400. In.Credible.

The drive, the hike, the summit, the solitude, getting followed by a curious chipmunk, the glissading... On the way out, I decided I needed a bath, so I pulled to the side of the road, changed into my swim trunks, got my biodegradable soap and a rag, made a quick little jaunt over to the river, found a secluded calm spot, and stepped on in. COLD!!! This was even colder than the shower I took in the Animas River. The water was so frigid I could only stand in it for 30 seconds or so before the pain was too great and I had to creep back up on a rock. I didn't even consider dipping my head or torso in, so I did a lot of splashing to wash my hair. I did, however, fully dip my lower half to get a good rinse. Yikes. Think I'm still recovering from that.

I would like to believe that shocking your body like that does good for it. Keeps it fresh and alive. Clears out some arteries and keeps things from getting too stagnant anywhere. Or maybe I'm just a masochist. When I got back to my truck, I was in the mood for a beer. I checked my supply of Dunkels. Not warm, but not very cool either. What the heck. I figured, what's the only thing worse than a warm Dunkel? No dunkel. Must be something about volcanoes, cause I also cracked open a beer when I was at Crater Lake a few weeks earlier. Huh.

Toward the end of the treck I remember thinking to myself, 'Days like this are good for the soul.'

Perhaps just due to being pretty tired after the hike and 5 hours in the truck, that night I decided that I would not be leaving Thursday, either. Again, just trying to listen to my body. Thursday held nothing special. Laundry, computer work, packing, organizing, coffee shop, etc. I wanted to cook dinner for Jered and Sarah. I decided to cook them a meal I like to call (and I apologize in advance for those whom I am about to offend) the Panty Dropper. It's never worked. In fact, I've never actually tried it, but it's so damn good I gave it that name anyway. Broiled chicken breast fillets breaded in an almond/rosemary crust, quartered mushrooms sauteed with butter, garlic, and parsley, a side of lemon zest mashed red potatoes, and a shallot/blackberry/Pinot Noir reduction sauce. Yeah. I like it.

That night I joined them at their friends' home for a front yard campfire. Myself, the Singleburgers, the couple that lived there (Rich and Rachel) and one other couple (Kevin and Karen). Although I was the 7th wheel, it never once felt that way. We arrived at sunset, and just sat and talked and laughed around the 2x4 campfire until midnight. It reminded me of the nights in Mariposa, saturated in smiles and laughter. Although we didn't have anyone throwing fire, someone (can't remember who) told a story of when they were swimming in the ocean with a friend at night during the time of year when the waters are luminescent when disturbed due to a type of bacteria that is present. The waters glowed with them, flamelike, an aqueous aurora borealis as they moved. However, when they stopped moving, thus leaving the immediate waters in darkness, bubbles and currents of light start appearing below them. "Are you doing that?" "NO. Are you?!" They rushed back to shore, surely thinking they were about to be eaten. Once safe, they looked back to see a couple of seals that had come up to visit them, likely wondering themselves what manner of beast was stirring up the waters.

Under a cool, clear Seattle sky, all of my hosts were amazed with how many stars they could see. Six? Seven? Wow! <yes, there is some sarcasm there> However, for Seattle, I guess it was quite a sky. It was a sky, period, not just clouds. The thought of stars took me back to Crested Butte, where the skies were so clear and the stars so thick and rich that I felt I could reach out and grab them! Passing around a hookah and a huge bag of Reeses Pieces, sampling some fantastic beers, making s'mores. I created a new play on s'mores: Reeses Infused. You heard that right. Stuff a few pieces inside the marshmallow, lightly toast it, then enjoy. Marshmallow is all you taste at first, followed by a slight crunch of the candy shell, then, what's this?, marshmallowy Reeses peanut buttery heaven! Perhaps it was just the hookah talking, but it was mighty tasty!

I felt so blessed to spend the evening with these wonderful people. All just such good <slight pause for effect> people. (go back and read that again if the brackets threw you off). Sitting there that night, keeping warm by the blazing 2x4s, I again thought to myself, 'days like this are good for the soul.' Refreshed by a day of solitude, and refreshed by an evening with friends, new and old, I knew that I would be starting the next leg of my journey on a good step.

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