I stood up from my restaurant feast in Snoqualime Pass and was immediately concerned. Could I hike without puking? I took my chances and walked back to the trail head. The path ahead ascended a sun-baked ski slope and it shimmered in the heat. I pressed forward cautiously, dragging the anchor that my full belly had become. I took frequent breaks and eventually finished the climb without losing my lunch.
A cool evening breeze washed over me as I strolled into a campsite by a pristine meadow. Two weekend hikers sat on a log preparing their dinner. For courtesy sake, I asked if I could join them and they said yes with a smile. I pitched my tent, joined them on the log, and struck up a conversation. As we talked it became apparent that I had interrupted a romantic date. However, this couple was so gracious. They not only made me feel welcome but tried to share their gourmet dinner of smoked salmon. Soon after a thru-hiker arrived and joined our conversation. After a while she leaned in and whispered, “Are we the third wheel on their date? I feel so bad!” I chuckled in agreement and silently marveled at this couples kindness and generosity.
I hiked alone for much of the next day. The trail meandered through vast forests and the occasional mountain meadow. There was a slight breeze and the scene beneath the trees danced in the filtered light. I paused at a meadow’s edge and watched golden grass move like ripples on a pond. I spent that evening chatting with two NOBO hikers over dinner and then retired to my tent.
I awoke with a jolt! Where am I and what is that noise? The rain had started suddenly and its dull roar on my tent walls was a surprise. Little did I know that this cold rain would be my near constant companion for the next three days.
My bag was packed and I was about to begin hiking when I heard, “Hey Ice Axe!” It was Scotch Tape and his wife. I had met this couple several days earlier and had really enjoyed their company. We powered up the morning’s long ascent together and played leap frog through the mist for the rest of the day. The plan was to camp near the summit of Blowout Mountain but as we climbed a violent storm blew in. The windblown rain came in sideways and flashes of distant lightning illuminated the fog. The three of us sought shelter in a semi-protected camp site. Wonderland and Scotsman soon joined us and we all hid in our tents.
We were above the clouds come morning and I was soon treated to a commanding view of Mt. Rainier. I enjoyed the brief break in the rain and sloshed on in my still soggy shoes. Evening brought loud claps of thunder and more rain. The mist was thick and cold the next day. I pressed on alone. An eerie landscape of charred trees slowly materialized out of the fog only to fade into obscurity as I passed. I finally broke down and listened to podcasts for some distraction. As I reached my ridge top campsite that evening I was greeted by blinding flashes of lightning and earthshaking thunder. I thought it unwise to be the tallest object on the ridge and hiked down into the basin through the rain.
The next day brought much of the same and the mist chilled me to the bone. I hiked by myself for twelve hours and the unrelenting gray of my surroundings compounded the feeling of isolation. I had exhausted my collection of podcasts and I began singing Christmas carols aloud for some relief from my misery. Every few hours I would crawl under a tree to escape the rain and air out my nasty wet feet. During these brief rests I would freeze in my damp clothes. I was very tempted to bundle up in my down jacket but I resisted the urge as getting it wet would leave me dangerously cold at night. Alas, I hiked on serenading the fog with a fourth encore of Jingle Bell Rock.
I rolled into camp just before dark and was thrilled to see another tent. After two days of isolation and camping alone, I finally had someone to talk with. I said hello as I dropped my pack and two smiling faces peered out into the rain to greet me. This married duo were super friendly section hikers. My tent went up in record time, I donned my dry clothes, crawled in my quilt, and savored a piping hot dinner. My neighbors and I talked through our tent walls until we fell asleep.
I awoke well before dawn and cooked breakfast in the vestibule of my tent. My neighbors stirred soon after and I was startled when they called out, “Hey Ice Axe there’s blue sky!” I ripped open my tent and looked skyward in disbelief. There it was. A big beautiful hole had opened in the clouds. I shouted “Blue Sky!” with absolute glee and my neighbors giggled at my excitement. By mid-morning the clouds burned off and the still wet landscape glistened in the golden light. I collapsed trail-side and basked in the sun’s warmth. I was in heaven.
