Rampart Ridge

Story ID:	605
Written by:	Kristine L.
Story type:	Travel
Location:	wa wa usa
Year:	2006

Ram’part: n. 1. A fortification consisting of an elevation or embankment, often provided with a parapet. 2. Anything that serves to protect or defend.

Webster’s isn’t kidding. Especially the part about “elevation or embankment” as they relate to Mount Rainier’s Rampart Ridge.

A quick scan of Ron C. Judd’s Day Hike! Mount Rainier: The Best Trails You Can Hike in a Day informs us that we’ve completed about half of the 50 Rainier routes listed. We’re feeling pretty smug about that. For about twenty minutes. That’s how long it takes to decide on our “swan song” hike before leaving the park for the season: Rampart Ridge.

A five-mile loop trail beginning and ending at park headquarters in Longmire, Judd describes Rampart Ridge as a “mostly forested, low-elevation loop on a prominent ridge that's fairly steep.” Rampart Ridge = "fairly steep?" That’s like calling the Sears Tower a “semi-skyscraper.” You may not have to be an Olympic marathoner/Sherpa hybrid to navigate R.R.’s twisting coils and serpentine switchbacks, but it helps!

“The rampart” crests at 4,080 feet. The trail's total elevation gain is about 1,500 feet. As steep as a blue chip in a bull market, the trail melts out in June and is shady and dry. The day is good and golden. Temperatures rise. Jaws drop at the eye-popping vistas unfurling at every bend—the higher the climb, the better the view. Just don’t forget to bring your own oxygen.

We begin the trail where it junctions with the Trail of the Shadows and cruise counterclockwise for no other reason than that Judd urges a clockwise start—some of that passive/aggressive thing kicking in here. Within moments the clear, pristine afternoon is punctuated by Josiah’s symphony du jour: “My legs feel like mush. My feet are going to fall off. My chest is bursting. I can’t feel my toes. I’m going to dieeeeeeee!”

“Buck up there kiddo. My legs are mush, too. Besides,” Mom quips, “only four more miles to go!”

Rolling his eyes, Josiah pouts, “Will you buy me a tombstone for Christmas?”

“Sure, and what would you like on this here tombstone?” Dad rejoins.

“Died while hiking to Rampart Ridge, so don’t bother digging me up.”

“Okay. Just let us know when you’re ready to croak. We’ll be sure to give you a Christian burial.”

Don’t know what that kid is complaining about. Take away the whining, bickering, mosquitoes, feet-numbing terrain and hamstring-hollering incline up a trail that lies every step of the way, promising “the summit” just over the next switchback, and all you have is your garden variety sheer agony.

Josiah’s cacophony of complaints increases to a shattering crescendo about the time we register a veritable dearth of energy and spare breath to talk the little munchkin into another subject. So Chris puts Josiah in front as our new leader. Heading the pack, our loquacious seven year-old promptly morphs into drill sergeant mode, barking orders at his siblings about whose turn it is to carry the backpacks, rest stops and rations. Some short breaks to stuff our lungs back into our chests, and Josiah & Company perk up considerably as we ply them with extra drinks and snacks. (It’s amazing what a kid will do for an extra ration of Junk Food a la Hostess—not to mention Mom and Dad.)

Swigging from our water bottles under achingly azure skies, the view from the Rampart Ridge overlook is worth the complaining calves and shrieking shins. Facing west, 4,700-foot Tumtum Peak looms over the far side of the Kautz Creek drainage. A short spur trail opens into a viewpoint of Rainier, Eagle Peak, and the Longmire area where we can just make out our Ford Club Wagon in the National Park Inn parking lot. It looks like a red ant. The good news? It’s all downhill from here, baby, two miles through pleasant forest, across the road and a section of the famed Wonderland Trail back to Longmire.

Judd's guidebook puts the “average hiking time” on Rampart Ridge at 2.5 hours. This translates into just over three for a Hun horde and “Daniel Boone” Dad. Appearances to the contrary, he stubbornly insists that Rampart Ridge is NOT an alpine version of the Bataan Death March. Go figure.

While you’re figuring, wanna guess what our favorite part of Rampart Ridge was? Was it the glorious vistas and scenic panoramas? The picturesque views of the south side of The Mountain on a stunningly clear day? Sunshine pouring over the forest in gallons? Weather warm enough to hike in our shirt sleeves? Green bristling mountains as far as the eye can see, clear into Japan (well, okay. Maybe just Hawaii)? Naw. Our “favorite” part about the Rampart Ridge death… er, um… adventure is that at the precise moment when we attempt to digitally record our expedition for posterity, our camera balks. Said creature crankily informs us that our “card is full.” So much for that. Well. To fully appreciate the wonders of Rampart Ridge, you’ll just have to lace up your Itascas and hoof up there yourself.

Show’s over until the next trip,

Chris and Kristine



PHOTO: One "for the road" from Steven's Canyon, Mount Rainier National Park.