Daniel Boone Dad

Most people who spend a day amid the world-renowned flower fields of Mount Rainier’s Paradise naturally focus on the clogged, paved paths through the wildflower meadows. We usually do the same, but not today. Today we hatch a brilliant idea ranking up there with the discovery of fire: forget fighting crowds and congestion on the road. We’ll hike cross-country to Paradise along the Narada Falls trail. Oh, this is rich! After all, the National Park Service web site for Mount Rainier claims that the Narada Falls trail to Paradise is an easy, uphill stroll currently “35% under snow.”

Right. And my name is Rumpelstilskin.

After picnicking* alongside magnificent Inspiration Point, a stone’s throw from our trail head, we stow the mandatory Ten Essentials+ in our packs and head for Paradise via Narada Falls. Sort of. Aside from the fact that anyone tackling this trek should be equal parts Inuit and mountain goat, the “trail” is buried under six feet of snow. Lilliputian trail traces can be detected here and there under rivers of white. This gives Mom cause for pause, but not “Daniel Boone” Dad.

Rushing in where angels fear to tread, Dad’s land navigation skills have our “Hun horde” scurrying uphill like a herd of turtles. Never mind that we’re guessing at the trail most of the way. Since we know this trail is a popular ski/snowshoe route during the winter and that the Paradise River originates in Paradise (duh), we follow both. Even so, the snow-submerged “trail” is a bit daunting—to everyone but “Daniel Boone,” that is.

Carving our way through great bowls of snow bristling with silver and Douglas fir, we slog up saw-toothed canyons cobwebbed by waterfalls and shushing with snow melt. Our ascent through snowfields the size of Alaska is punctuated by a delightful chorus of bickering and whining: “Are we there yet? How much further? I’m going to die! I can’t feel my toes. I can’t feel my feet. My legs are numb. I’m still going to die.” Squish, squish. Tromp, tromp. Huff, puff.

“Isn’t this fun, kids? Never mind the frostbite. It’s all part of the adventure.”

Ever wonder if the guy who discovered fire lost any fingers?

Keeping the Paradise River to our left and due north straight ahead, Dad is blazing a trail “where no one has gone before.” No, really. Not even Captain Kirk would tackle this baby. Case in point is Dad’s now-famous Tyrolean Traverse straight up a 20 foot snow bank.

“Hey, why take the easy way when we can do the scenic route?” This just after he points out a fresh set of cougar tracks. “Stay close, kids. There are major predators nearby.” Nothing like a little sheer terror to thaw the blood and kick start your heart.

Unable to detect the remotest shred of a verifiable “trail,” Mom hesitates, “Uh, um, do you know where we are?” “Daniel Boone” Dad declares, “It’s this way.” “This way” is an endless expanse of Siberian tundra shot through with frozen fir trees. A scouring breeze stings our ears and noses like flung gravel. But Dad is “off and running.” We scramble to keep up. Doubtless the Cumberland Gap is just over the next iceberg.

Gulping in huge chunks of conifer-crisped air, we emerge from the frozen tundra ninety minutes later, less than fifty feet from the Paradise Visitor’s Center. Not bad for navigation by “dead reckoning” and “lucky guesses” (emphasis on “dead”). Dad struggles valiantly to suppress a smug smile: “See. I told you I knew where I was going!”

Judging from some of the stares tossed our way as we plow out of the snow, we must look like something out of The Grapes of Wrath--or The Gulag Archipelago. Can’t complain about appearances, however, as we peer at Paradise's stuck-in-the1960s architectural abomination of a visitor center. The spherical center is so ugly that we’ll miss it when it’s torn down to make way for a “new and improved” version slated to open in 2008.

All in all, the stunning vistas of Paradise are worth the heaving chests and snow-crusted smiles. We cruise the center’s displays and exhibits, browse the gift shop, snap photos and let the boys play in the snow. They’re already soaked and frozen; what’s a little more misery going to hurt?

Afternoon fades. Temperatures drop. Not being entirely clueless rookies, we brought jackets, food, water, and spare socks. We did not bring an inflatable taxi for the return trip. Not to worry. Dad shepherds everyone downhill for the Narada Falls parking lot, getting us there in what has to be a new land-speed record. The fact that we skied and shushed most of the way ought to be worth something—like qualifying as an Olympic bobsled team. Heading back to Ohana in the van later, we review our route and shake our heads. We must’ve been nuts.

Besides the Ten Camping Commandments, 20/20 hindsight suggests three cardinal rules when chugging over four+ miles of icebergs cleverly disguised as a “35% snow covered” trail: 1) Stay with the Paradise River. Up or down, you’re both headed to the same place and will get there eventually. 2) Never believe what you read on a web site, and 3) Follow the leader. After all, who needs Daniel Boone when we’ve got Dad?

Blazing new trails,

Chris and Kristine

Daniel (15), Nathan (13), Sam (10), Josiah (7)

* And NOT sharing our lunch with camp robbers!

+ If you have to ask what the “Ten Essentials” are, then you’re a certifiable Rainier rookie. However, since a refresher course never hurts, the NPS strongly urges (like under pain of death) anyone hiking the park to carry:

1. A topographic map

2. A compass

3. Water

4. Extra food

5. Extra clothing/rain gear

6. Emergency shelter

7. First aid kit

8. Flashlight and extra batteries

9. Sunglasses and sunscreen

10. Pocketknife and matches in a waterproof container (for emergency use only—fires are not allowed in Mount Rainier’s Wilderness)

We haul them all, except for the “emergency shelter.” We’d have to hire our own mule team to carry an “emergency shelter” for a family of six. Besides, we’ve got Dad!

Story ID:	604
Written by:	Kristine L. (bio, link, contact, other stories)
Story type:	Travel
Location:	wa wa usa
Year:	2006