Mountain Magic

I have seen the glories of Switzerland,

the grandeur of the Andes,

and the grace of the beautiful cone of Fujiyama,

but among the most renowned scenery of the world,

I know of nothing more majestic or more inspiring

than the grandeur of Mount Rainier… [1]

--- Bailey Willis

Professor of Geology

Stanford University

Mr. Willis, you got that right.

For anyone who’s ever come face to face with the "grandeur of Mount Rainier," you'll never forget it. Rising in regal solitude from the southeastern corner of Washington's Pierce County, Mount Rainier National Park was established in 1899 as the nation's fifth national park. Stretching to its full height of 14,410 feet, Rainier reigns as the undisputed monarch of Northwest topography and to Rainieraholics like us, no words are sweeter than “The Mountain is out.” It's like magic. If you've seen the Queen of the Cascades, you know what we mean.

Then again, maybe you don't. Maybe “seen” isn’t the correct word? You can’t really say you’ve “seen” one of North America’s most stunning peaks until you know her well. Sure, you can see some of the magic without getting 50 feet from your car. But you can’t really know It until you’re in It, and as any true-blue Rainieraholic can attest, there’s only one way to "see" Mount Rainier National Park: you have to hike it. That's right. Meeting the Queen means leaving your car and entering her wild regions on foot, where you can shake hands with soaring Douglas firs, some 200 feet high. Inhale conifer-crisped air. Soak your sore feet in snow-melt streams. Watch Townsend's chipmunks and gray jays (aka: "camp robbers") elbow each other for "shameless panhandler" awards. You see, it is on the trail--and only on the trail--that The Mountain’s magic unfolds:

· Alpine meadows that vie with the Swiss Alps for beauty pageant honors

· Sprawling snowfields

· Jaw-dropping vistas

· The largest single peak glacier system in the contiguous United States

· Liquid-crystal rivers

· Box canyons

· Wildflower fields rivaling a Renoir palette

· Glaciers containing enough snow and ice to provide nearly 200 years of water use by the city of Seattle

· Old growth trees bigger than your house

“On the trail” is exactly what we did during last week’s camping trip to The Mountain. Someone suggested we polish our “shoe leather letters” into a narrative for those who are either unfamiliar with The Mountain, live too far away for a quick visit, or just like to read travelogues :). So, pour yourself a lemonade, settle back into your favorite chair and join us for Act I.

###

The crowd quiets. The curtain rises. Ohanapecosh and Silver Falls wait in the wings. House lights dim. The magic begins.

Named for a riverside Taidnapam or “Upper Cowlitz” Indian habitation site, “Ohanapecosh” is thought to mean “standing at the edge” or “clear water.” Some say it means “Standing on the Lip of a Rock,” referring to a certain rock where men stood to dip net fish. Whatever its meaning, the fabled Ohanapecosh nestles between the Douglas firs, western hemlocks and western red cedars of an outrageous old-growth forest, evincing the complex structure of this habitat. The sprawling, 200+-site Ohana campground is one of Rainier’s choice overnight spots, and we brace ourselves for summer throngs. We are pleasantly surprised to find but five other campers in the entire complex upon our Monday arrival.

As usual, our first impression upon pulling into the Ohanapecosh Campground is that we've fallen into a vast vat of verdure. The Ohana forest leaks lichen the color of cucumber meat from absinthe cedar boughs. Salal, bunchberry dogwood and five types of fern peek out of a lavish carpet of clubfoot moss. Giant conifers litter the forest like fallen behemoths. A silver breeze rustles massive red cedar and hemlock trees, sighing sulkily through conifers that are hundreds of years old. Sunshine skips across so many shades of emerald that the landscape looks like Oz, especially near the Silver Falls trail head.

One of the park’s most popular trails, the Silver Falls Loop is a pleasant three mile walk from the Ohanapecosh campground to one of the park’s most impressive gushers. It’s one of the first trails to melt out in the spring and we have the pine-needled path to ourselves this morning. We lace up our boots and strike out on the west side of the loop near the park amphitheater.

The S.F. Loop snakes above the Ohana campground and steadily gains altitude for a mile or so through a lush forest under achingly blue skies. Red huckleberries and pink salmonberry blooms hem the trail which dances to the thundering tune of the Ohanapecosh River. To our right the Ohana River roars and snorts over gigantic boulders as it plunges south. A few twists and turns and we climb above the river, losing it momentarily. We also lose the rumbling rasp of highway traffic, which drops away like down off a dandelion. It’s as if a curtain of quiet has suddenly descended--until we near Silver Falls Overlook.

We have to shout to be heard here. The short spur trail to the overlook hosts over four million feet a year, but it is anything but smooth. A treacherous network of fallen logs, roots and broken rocks, this spur gives “tangle foot” a whole new meaning. Stepping carefully, we watch zillions of gallons of water crash over the falls, spraying us with a fine mist that’s as wet as rain. We’ve never seen so much water plummeting over the falls. We munch our trail mix and watch splinters of sunshine fracture the mizzle into a kaleidoscope of iridescent arcs.

We can’t see The Mountain from here but we know she’s there, towering over us like an ermine-mantled colossus. The Queen of the Cascades plays her well-worn game of hide and seek again. She winks at us later through skies turquoise and then pewter and then turquoise again, her ample waistline swishing above verdant skirts.

Readjusting our backpacks, we bid Silver Falls adieu and galumph up the trail to the Eastside Trail junction. Continuing north for a long half mile and 250 vertical feet, the muddy trail squishes beneath our waterproof Itascas. We cross the sudsing Laughingwater Creek, which sounds just like its name, and trek toward the Grove of the Patriarchs and some Really Big Trees. Like any good magic show, you have to see these venerable ancients to believe them. But we’ll save that for our next travelogue.

With Willis,

Chris and Kristine

Story ID:	601
Written by:	Kristine L. (bio, link, contact, other stories)
Story type:	Travel
Location:	WA WA USA
Year:	2006