Our alarms blared at 4:20AM. Across the room, I heard my lifelong friend, Kristin, stir awake with a groan.
“Good morning!” I chimed, way too sunshiney for an hour before the sun was up. As expected, I received a grumble in return.
We rolled out of bed and shuffled around in the dark, pulling on our layers and lacing up our boots. As I pulled my water bladder out of my backpack to fill it, I noticed the hard plastic had rubbed through the backside creating a hole. Instead, I filled two water bottles and inserted them into the side pockets of my backpack. I stuffed two cameras, a tripod, an extra windbreaker, and a PB&J into my backpack and slung a fanny pack across my chest with the essentials—extra camera batteries, ID, credit card, cheese sticks and an apple. I was ready to go.
The sun still hadn’t risen by the time we backed out of Kristin’s parking lot, and we made our way through Seattle in the dark. In the twilight glow, we could see the tops of the towering pines alongside the road. They were just as iconic as I had imagined of the Pacific Northwest.
With the city behind us, we entered territory that was new to both of us. Despite having lived in Seattle for nearly two years at this point, Kristin has yet to venture out to Mt. Rainier National Park.
Today would be a first for both of us.
A giant wooden arch marked the entrance to Mt. Rainier National Park. Once in the park, the trees seemed taller and more fantastical than the ones we passed before. As we drove the winding path toward the trailhead, the fog created a mystic atmosphere, and the cars in front of us blurred in and out of view. My gaze fixed on the moss of the trees, like furry green giants. This is what I imagined the Hoh Rainforest would be like, not here in the mountains.
“Uhh Kylie…” Kristin’s voice trailed, and I looked over at her. Her gaze was turned upward. I let mine follow. Far above the tree line, decorated with passing clouds, was Mt. Rainier. She was peeking through, giving us a glimpse of what was to come.
When we pulled into the parking lot at 7:30AM, there were already dozens of cars filling the stalls. There were plenty still open at this point, but not for long. We packed our snacks into our bags, took a swig from our water bottles and marched up to the trailhead. A bright blue trail map was available outside the visitor center, so we grabbed one of those just in case. By 7:45AM we were on the trail.
As soon as we started on the trail, I knew this wasn’t going to be an easy hike. We were climbing a paved path that was at least a 45-degree angle for the first quarter mile or so. My legs burned and I was already lagging Kristin. I could tell my midwestern hiking skills were not up to par for the mountains of the Pacific Northwest. However, Kristin assured me that, based on the All Trails review, the hardest push was at the beginning of the trail. I hoped she was right.
We were only a few hundred feet into our hike when we spotted a doe in a meadow off the trail. She was calm, even after noticing us, and continued grazing on the greenery. A pleasant distraction from the burning in my calves.
Just as the path turned from paved to rocky cobble, we ran into a man wearing a Wisconsin hat hiking with his son. As we walked by, Kristin gave the standard greeting, “Go Badgers.” Naturally, we launched into a full conversation with this man about Madison and where we’re all from. It’s always nice to see a Wisconsinite out on the trails, but this was especially a welcome interaction because Seattle is known for its unfriendliness. If Wisconsinites are known for their Midwest nice, then the people around here are known for the Seattle Freeze. Essentially, everyone minds their own business, and if you smile at a stranger on the street, you’re the weird one.
We continued on the trail which had eased on its grade slightly but still gave my legs a run for their money. There were very few people on the trail by this point, so we rarely crossed paths with anyone, besides the inevitable leapfrog of the same few groups as we all took turns stopping to catch our breath. The Wisconsin family probably passed us two or three times before we decided to push through to avoid the constant leap-frogging.
As we trekked up the path, I kept stealing glances at the waterfall gushing down the mountainside. We could hear the rushing of the water from hundreds of yards away, and I wondered what it’d be like to stand at its base. Further up toward the peak, I contemplated whether or not the ice on the mountain was considered a glacier. Later that day at the visitor center I would learn that it was, and I had finally seen my first glacier: Nisqually Glacier.
Our first substantial checkpoint on the map was Panorama Point. Ironically, the panoramic view was entirely blocked by the dense fog rolling in. However, a panoramic view wasn’t the only this viewpoint had to offer. It had chipmunks.
As we walked up to the viewpoint, a chipmunk greeted us by hopping up on the closest rock to us. It was clear that these chipmunks were used to being fed by humans, hence their overtly friendly nature. I found this both adorably entertaining and simultaneously heartbreaking. The chipmunks followed us around, expecting offerings, and every time I bent down to take a picture of the mountains, I got a face full of fur.
Eventually, I gave in and turned my camera towards the chipmunks instead. They were the best little models I’ve ever had. Kristin whipped out one of our beers to see if we could get a chipmunk to pose with it, and low and behold, it wasn’t that hard. We set the beer on a rock, and I tapped the area I wanted the chipmunk to sit. All it took was a little direction and he popped right up next to the can. Jokingly, I exclaimed that I came to Rainier and all I took pictures of were chipmunks.
But that’s not all true, there were marmots too. They weren’t as adventurous as the chipmunks, but I was grateful to see wildlife acting mostly wild. The marmots kept their distance but wandered close enough that we could see their unique adaptations. I had seen marmots before in Colorado, but these marmots have patches of white fur. We assumed this was to help them camouflage in the snow.
Finally, we broke away from the chipmunk haven and made the final push to the viewpoint of Mt. Rainier. As we reached the crest of the hill, we were the only ones to stop at the top, so for a few fleeting minutes, we had Mt. Rainier to ourselves. It didn’t last long though. I snapped a few pictures, but the crowd started filing in, one after another. By the time a steady stream of people were passing through, I had given up on the photos and resigned to eating my PB&J.
Kristin had excitedly explained to me the previous evening about her plan to drink her first Rainier beer on Mt. Rainier. Another first we could share. As Kristin and I cracked open our mountain beers, we got a few puzzled looks thrown our way. It was at this moment that we realized, despite being up for the past five hours, it was only 9:30AM. However, I have a theory.
When you’re hiking, it doesn’t actually matter what time of day it is. If you wake up at 4:00AM and you eat your meal at the peak at 9:30AM – that’s lunch. If you start your hike at noon and eat your meal at the peak at 5:00PM – that’s also lunch. The meal you eat on the mountain is always lunch, and drinking a beer with lunch is acceptable.
As I explained this reasoning to Kristin, the Wisconsin man reached the peaked and exclaimed, “Beers? I didn’t know we could do that! I want one!” And at that moment, our hearts broke because we wished we could give him one, but alas we had only packed two. But I also felt some sort of comfort in knowing that at least the Wisconsin man understood the importance of a mountain beer.
After finishing our sandwiches and gulping down the last few swigs of our Rainier, we rounded the edge of a rockface and immediately were engulfed in a foggy haze. The trail turned to super loose gravel and we struggled to maintain our footing. The haze created a white backdrop to everything and it completely threw off our depth perception. The people that were just twenty feet in front of us were now swallowed by the fog with no sign of them at all. We stumbled down, our vision getting dizzy as we stared only at our feet.
Finally, we broke out of the fog onto a clear patch full of wildflowers and mini waterfalls. It was like an alpine meadow. We crossed over a little bridge with a mountain stream flowing beneath it, and I began to feel like I was in a fairytale land. On the other side of the bridge was another stream, one that we hopped across on stones. A marmot sat on a ledge watching from a distance as people crossed back and forth over the stream, seemingly unbothered.
The trail was very crowded by this point of the day, so we made sure to stop at many of the overlooks to let people pass, then we’d jump back onto the trail during a lull to avoid people on our heels.
We came across a large group of people staring out across the valley, pointing with fingers and cameras. We assumed it might be a mountain goat on the rocks, but when we approached someone pointed out across the valley at a black dot, just on the brink of the fog. A black bear. It was so far away that I marveled at the fact that anyone had been able to spot it, let alone discern it was a bear. He strolled along alone, enjoying his vast space, and I wondered if he knew we were watching him.
The descent on the Skyline Loop Trail was much more scenic than the trek up – depending on your desired views. The way up was rocky and had stunning views of Mt. Rainier and the glacier. However, the way down was covered in meadows, flowing streams, towering pines and colorful wildflowers. I was glad we had done the loop clockwise to end with such beauty. Towards the end of the trail, we came across more and more waterfalls, each one bigger and taller than the last. Every turn of the trail had me whipping out my camera and snapping photos.
We came to a fork in the path that left us literally turning in circles. Based on our trail map, the Skyline Loop Trail should continue straight, but the trail sign pointed off and up designating the trail to our right as Skyline Loop Trail 1.0mi. The distance seemed accurate, we likely had about a mile left in our trek, so we turned and walked up the steep incline. After the last few miles of decline, this sudden incline left my body reeling. The little voice in my head was telling me to turn around, but I couldn’t tell if it was out of misery or my misguided sense of direction.
As we came over the crest of the hill, we looked up to see switchbacks climbing their way into the peaks. This was not our trail. We pulled out our trail map and tried to relocate ourselves on the tiny dotted lines. We had accidentally started on the Golden Gate Trail heading back up to Mt. Rainier.
Grateful we realized it before reaching the switchbacks, but a little grumpy about the unnecessary climb, we turned around and made our way down the mountain. Descents always make me focus more on my form due to my bad knees. Despite taking it slow and making sure to lower myself with purpose in each step rather than bounding down aggressively, the sharp pain in my right knee spread with every downward step. In between grumblings at the pain in my knee, I looked up from the trail to take in the view.
Off in the distance, I could see two white dots climbing the rocks of a towering waterfall. Mountain goats! Excitedly, I pointed them out to Kristin. The perfect trifecta of wildlife on the mountain: a bear, marmots and mountain goats. However, slowly we both came to realize the two white dots we were looking at were actually two people in white jackets wandering off trail and climbing a waterfall. A jarring reminder that not everyone respects the rules of the park. I returned to my grumbling.
Once we were back on the right path, we crossed a large bridge that passed over a huge waterfall. This was by far the biggest one we had encountered – at least in relation to the ones on the trail. It trickled down around the rocks following hundreds of little paths as it cascaded to the river below.
As we came around a curve in the trail, we spotted the line of cars leading down from the Paradise Visitor Center parking lot. Dozens of cars lined the road leading up to the trailhead. At that moment, I was incredibly grateful to Kristin, and the advice from her friends, to get here early.
We emerged from the trail around 1:00PM, a much longer descent than expected, made longer by the frequent photo stops. This was by far the most scenic hike I had ever done. I was surprised by the variety of landscapes we encountered on the mountain from waterfalls to meadows, mountain terrain and glaciers. It was all breathtakingly stunning – photos could never do it justice. The fog had rolled in, and Mt. Rainier was no longer visible at the trailhead. Unless you knew it was there, you’d never believe such a beautiful peak was hiding in the clouds. I smiled to myself, grateful to have seen Mt. Rainier in all her glory. Until next time.
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