Day 12, July 30: Snow, Wild Flowers, and the Pacific Ocean

Day 12, July 30: Snow, Wild Flowers, and the Pacific Ocean

I began the day early, ready for a challenging hike at Mount Rainier before taking off for the Oregon coast. I was at the trail head by 8 a.m., armed with a map, the GPS, and lots of energy. Taking it easy the past few days was one of the smartest things I have done.

The hike began at Paradise Lodge and was about six miles long. It climbed 1700 feet, all of which was in the first two miles. So it began steep and just kept going up. The beginning of the trail was paved, and I wondered if it really would meet the “challenging” and “difficult” ratings it listed. The short answer to that question is yes. It deserves the difficult rating.

Before long, winded already from the steep hike, I came upon colorful meadows of wildflowers. I hate to use the cliché, but the fields were blanketed in color. Everywhere I looked, I saw beauty (when I wasn’t panting from the climb). It wasn’t too long that I began to see more snow. There were snow fields covering what wasn’t covered with flowers. I admired the snow – it wasn’t too cold and I was comfortable in a long sleeved thin shirt.

I admired it that is until I had to cross the first big snowfield. This first one was probably the most frightening of all of the ones I crossed. It was a bit icy, and the small path we had to cross sat atop a slop that went down and down and down. I couldn’t even begin to judge what would happen if I’d slipped. I was really happy I had my trekking poles, and I could have used crampons. I looked back, after crossing it, and saw a woman down on her hands and knees navigating it. As I was turned back, looking at her and a group of young girls that were obviously part of a team of some sort struggle up the trail, I noticed a marmot lounging on a rock, and he also seemed to be watching the hikers. I couldn’t help but decide he was enjoying watching us humans struggle up the path.

Before long, I was above the tree line, hiking on rocks and snow. Looking out across the mountain, I could see Mount Rainier and in the distance, Mount Saint Helen’s. The clouds had settled in the time I had taken to make the climb, and those peaks erupted from the heavy cloud cover.

At the apex of the climb, I was at 7100 feet. As I started back down the mountain, I breathed a sigh of relief, happy that the steep climb was over. But the real work really began then. The trail was often covered with snow, and the way to follow was marked by orange flags sticking up. A few times, I simply sat down and slid down the snow field to avoid the struggle of staying upright. I believe more than two miles of that downhill hike was covered by snow.

I was thinking how I wished for less snow (actually, I think I was thinking something like “I wish this f---king snow would stop”) and encountered three men hiking up with ski boots on and carrying skis on their backs. We stopped and chatted for a few minutes, and they said they’d be able to ski down quite a large portion of the mountain. I asked if it wasn’t difficult to hike in ski boots, and they assured me it was, but it was worth it for them. They were almost giddy with the prospect of skiing at the end of July.

The hike was one of the most memorable ones I’ve ever taken, both for the degree of difficulty and the variety of scenery. The beauty of the flowers, the snow fields with pine trees sprouting from them looking like Christmas cards, the barren, rocky terrain above the tree line, and the views of the mountains above a thick floor of clouds – this is why I do what I do. And the ability to successfully attempt something that is difficult and challenging.

The reaction I often get from the people I run into on these hikes is interesting. I’m often told how brave I am to be making these hikes, and this journey, on my own. I don’t feel that at all. It doesn’t feel like bravery, it simply seems like something I want to do. Sometimes it feels like foolishness – when I’m lonely or tired of setting up a tent every night – but it never feels like bravery. It feels good to accomplish the things I’m accomplishing, but that’s something personal and private in many ways. I guess these comments stem from the fact that I’m a woman, and they don’t resonate with me as I’ve never really felt any constraints on doing things because I’m a woman.  I can’t help but wonder if these observations and comments would be made of a man traveling and hiking alone. I’m sure not.

I was finished with the hike by noon, and immediately headed for the Oregon coast. I reached the coast in mid-afternoon and my campsite at South Beach State Park, just south of Newport, Oregon, by 7:30. The ocean is as moving as it always is to me; I stopped and enjoyed it for a while before resuming the drive to the campsite.

I have two days till I have to be in Yosemite for my backpacking trip, so I think I’ll take my time tomorrow heading down the coast until it’s time to cut in to Crater Lake. I love this coast so much, and I hope to find the restaurant where Jesse and I ate last summer. They had some of the best calamari and clams I’ve ever had. I might have to have a little fresh crab too – they must be in season as I keep seeing signs touting, “Fresh crab today.” Hopefully, there will be fresh crab tomorrow too . . .

Day 11, July 29: Mount Rainier

Day 11, July 29: Mount Rainier

Sleeping in, in a real bed, till 9 a.m. this morning was heaven. I realize that going non-stop takes a toll on me physically, emotionally, and spiritually. Staying with Sally last night, enjoying conversation with loved ones, eating a hot, delicious meal, and sleeping in a real bed recharged my batteries. I had been feeling off for the two prior days, and finally, today, I’m back to normal.

I had a lovely breakfast with Sally and Mike this morning, and Mike printed out some information on Mount Rainier for me. Sally had gotten up early and made a big batch of bow-tie pasta, for which she’s famous, and gave me a big portion to take with me. She also sent along way too many of her homemade brownies, but I’ll do my best to take care of them.

I left their house around noon, and headed south, in no big hurry, to Mount Rainier. I decided to take the scenic route instead of the interstate, and I also drove around the long way to my campground so I could see more of the park.

What a good decision. Seeing Mount Rainier up close for the first time is amazing. What a gorgeous mountain. The snow is still heavy on it, and there is snow at the level of the road some too. I drove almost all the way around the mountain and enjoyed the drive immensely. If I were younger, I’d want to climb it. Mountain climbing is something that really intrigues me and seems to call to me, but I’m afraid I’ve missed the boat on that one. To learn to climb when I’m over 50 seems pretty unrealistic. So I’ll just do a lot of great hikes instead.

It’s funny how each mountain range has its own personality and look. Rainier is so different from the Canadian Rockies up in Bamff, but the beauty is just as breathtaking and stunning. I would have never known mountains could have such specific and unique looks. The trees are unique in each area too, and the undergrowth here is much more lush and rich looking. The snow here has a much stronger presence; it’s not just up at the top of the mountain, but it’s an integral part of the experience here down lower.

I drove into camp around 4:30 p.m. and quickly set up my tent and changed into my hiking boots. I had enough daylight to get in a short, three mile hike. I grabbed a shuttle that took me up to Narada Falls, and I hiked back through dense forest. The trail ran along a rushing stream, and there were three beautiful waterfalls along the way. It was all downhill, which was a very nice break from all the climbing I’ve been doing on recent hikes.

I had originally planned on doing the hike to Camp Muir, but after talking to a ranger in Glacier when I was there, and realizing some of my limits, I decided I wasn’t ready for that hike – at least not by myself. It climbs 5000 feet in about four miles, so it’s really more of a climb than a hike, and it goes through permanent snow fields. I don’t have snow equipment, and hiking it alone is not safe, especially if inclement weather would come up. The notes about the trail talk about how a storm can roll in at any time, and in a white out the trail is almost impossible to find. I’m realizing that part of what I’m learning on this journey is to understand and recognize my limits when I come across them. I don’t have to prove anything to anyone, including myself, and knowing that is a relief. I’m also learning to listen to my body, and when it says, “Hey, that’s enough” or “Hey, slow down a little,” I’m hearing it.

My adjusted plan then, after listening to my body and reading the information about the hikes available, has been to hike the short hike I did tonight, which was beautiful, restful, and peaceful, and to hike a more difficult hike tomorrow morning. So I’ve packed my daypack, have my map and GPS handy, set my alarm, and I’ll be taking off around 7:30 for the Skyline Trail – about a four-hour hike that rises 1700 feet in the first three miles or so. It should be challenging but enjoyable, which is just the ticket.

Day 10, July 28: Family

Day 10, July 28: Family

I’m writing this on day 11, as I sit and watch my sister Sally cook me a wonderful breakfast of sausage and waffles. It’s so good to be with her and her family – I just don’t get to see them enough.

I began the day early, breaking camp and on the road by 6:15. The drive from Bamff to Snohomish, outside Seattle, wasn’t as long as I’d feared, and I pulled into Sally’s drive a little after 4, west coast time. Sally and her husband, Mike, have a beautiful log home, which Mike built, outside Snohomish. Sally spends a lot of her time on her gardens and house, and it is obvious. 

We toured her gardens and then I watched her cook me a fabulous meal of homemade ravioli, porterhouse steaks, artichokes, grilled whole carrots, and garlic bread. Mike made homemade guacamole we snacked on while she cooked, and I feel well fed and pampered. Having a sister and brother-in-law who have attended a cooking school in Italy isn’t so bad. My nephew Harrison and his friend Tony came over for dinner too. Harrison has grown into such a lovely young man – I still can’t get over the fact he’s 6’2” and not the little guy I remember.

Sally built this table and laid the tile on the top. She inherited our father's ability to create beautiful things.

And to sleep in a real bed was luxurious! Just to be able to sprawl under the covers instead of being constrained to a sleeping bag was wonderful, and to get up and walk across the hall to the bathroom instead of having to put shoes on and hike through a campground . . . ahhh. It’s funny how I now appreciate so many little things I take for granted every day.

So after a wonderful, late evening of great food, wonderful conversation, loving family, a solid night’s sleep, fresh waffles and sausage, I feel refueled and revitalized, ready for the next stage of the journey. So it’s off to Mount Rainier today where I’ll set up camp and have a short (2 -3 hour) hike, and I’ll see what’s in store next.

Day 9, July 27: Lake Louise/Banff

Day 9, July 27: Lake Louise/Banff

I awoke to the sound of rain on my tent this morning. I had set the alarm for 7 a.m. to get a nice start on my planned hike, but because of the rain, I turned off the alarm and turned over in my sleeping bag, deciding to get a little more sleep. Before I went back to sleep, I checked the temperature – it was 39 degrees. Not as cold as I was afraid it’d get, but cold enough. But either I’m getting hardened a little or my sleeping bag and smaller tent are doing their jobs, because I felt snug and cozy, and the sound of the rain lulled me back to sleep.

When I did get up, the sun was coming through the clouds and the day was promising. I fixed my lunch, packed my daypack, and headed to the trailhead. The trailhead for the hike I was taking – The Plain of Six Glaciers – is at Lake Louise. This is a very busy tourist area, and the beginning of the hike shares the trail with the Lake Louise hike, and it was crowded and paved for a while. But before long, I was on a rougher trail, and it headed up the mountain at a fairly steep grade.

Figuring distances is something of a guessing game – I’ve never been real good at converting kilometers to miles, and that’s a practice I needed to do. I finally figured out that I knew 5K is just over 3 miles, so I went from there. The hike today was a total of about 10 miles.  The scenery on the hike was spectacular, as it has been here in the Canadian Rockies all along, and in Glacier in the States. I stopped about four miles in at the Tea House – a restaurant set high on the mountain top. No electricity there – they run on propane for their cooking. The supplies are dropped by helicopter at the start of the season, and then anything else that’s needed is hauled up by hikers or horses. And I had great cell reception there. Go figure.

Then I hiked on to the lookout point for the Six Glaciers. The last part of the hike was unmaintained and consisted of the hiker basically picking his or her way through rocks. But it’s worth the trouble – as you stand there, you’re almost eye level with one of the glaciers across the ravine. One thing I’ve realized: it is always evident when a Glacier is shrinking in size. It leaves a barren landscape – almost looks like a moonscape – of rock and dirt. Streams run through it from the existing glacier, but it is a quit inhospitable environment. It’s sad to see these big open spots, but the ice that’s left is amazing. To be this close to a glacier is quite the experience. And here, in the Canadian Rockies, it seems a person is often able to be close to a glacier. I’ll have to check sometime and see how many glaciers are in these mountains. It must be hundreds.

The hike today was a different kind of experience for me, internally and externally. I don’t know why, but I lacked the enthusiasm I usually have at the beginning of a hike, and I felt sore and tired from the start. I don’t know if the long trail ride yesterday took a toll or if the cumulative miles I’m racking up hiking are pushing my body to its limits. My feet hurt – they feel raw and stiff. I really need a foot massage, so when I get home, Emilie, you have to pay me back for all the times I’ve rubbed your stinky feet. I also felt lonely this morning more than usual. Perhaps that also affected me during the hike today. There just wasn’t much spring in my step.

I’m realizing this month-long adventure is difficult in some ways I didn’t anticipate. Missing my family and friends is more intense at times than I thought it would be. There are times I wonder why I’m doing this, and I sometimes think I should cut it shorter than planned. But I don’t think I’m going to do that. This feels like an important journey for some reason, and it’s taking me to some places I need to go, emotionally and physically. So I’ll stick it out. I have a feeling I’m just beginning to find out things about myself I hadn’t known. And I do want to thank all my friends who are keeping in regular contact – through texting, or Facebook, or comments here on the blog. It seems I hear something from someone at just the right time. I’m really blessed to have the people in my life who love me and want to be with me.

After the hike, I was able to connect with people I didn’t know. I showered (hot water AND unlimited time!) and decided to grab a snack somewhere. I haven’t eaten out much at all, but I was craving a Diet Coke so I had to go to a restaurant. The Caesar salad on the menu sounded so good, and I decided to treat myself. I love camp food, but fresh greens are wonderful when I haven’t had any for a while. I met a lovely couple there, Dave and Joan, who are traveling from Michigan I believe. We visited for a while about where they’ve been and where I’ve been, and how we both miss some of our loved ones back home – they their new grandbaby and me my kiddos. I ended up giving Joan the address for the blog, so if you check in here Joan, hello!

It’s wonderful how friendly people are when you travel like this. From the clerks in stores, to the waiters and waitresses, to fellow travelers, people are so friendly, welcoming, and helpful. My new neighbors tonight here at the campground are from about three hours away here in Canada, and he’s insisted on helping me get my fire going (everything is damp) and splitting some kindling for me. I will be going over to their campsite in a little bit to peruse his map to the states – he’s sure he can help me get where I’m going. Two GPSs and Google Maps have nothing on his navigating skills.

So I leave Canada tomorrow, and head back to the states, some family, and a real bed. Ah, the life of luxury awaits!

Day 8, July 26: Happy Trails

Day 8, July 26: Happy Trails

Tonight I’m feeling like I’m suffering from sensory overload. After a wonderful six-hour trail ride today, I decided to drive a few hours up the Icefield Parkway. I think I took a few hundred pictures – everywhere I looked, I wanted to try to capture the view. Of course, this isn’t possible. But I keep trying.

The morning began with a minor success. I have a small backpacking stove that I will carry when I do the backcountry camping I’ll be doing at Yosemite. I had this stove on other trips, but Jesse always ran it. Before I left, he gave me a few lessons, so I have lit it before, but never by myself. I had put off trying it, but this morning I wanted coffee and eggs before I left for the trail ride and decided it was the time to give it a try. I did have to consult the instructions once, but I was successful – I made coffee and scrambled eggs in record time. I’ll be using it most of the time now so I’ll be completely comfortable with it. These minor triumphs seem small, but they bolster my confidence and make me stronger.

After putting all my breakfast gear back in the car, I took the 10 minute drive to the stables. Pulling in, I was impressed with the quality of the horses and the number of people working with them. It turns out many of the stable hands are kids in their 20s and working here for the summer from all parts of the world. Our guide was Jamie, a 22-year-old girl from New Zealand. I could tell immediately I would like her, and I was right. What a sweet, light presence she was. Our group was small – it was just made up of me and a couple from Germany, Florina and Boris. Also very lovely people. I couldn’t have asked for a more intimate and fun group.

We rode for about six hours through some of the most amazing terrain I’ve ever seen. The ride went from deep forest to rocky hillside, wound around two pristine lakes and through some rushing streams. We had to wear heavy coats at times, adding rain gear toward the end, and when we stopped at the second lake, some of us shed all the layers down to a short sleeved shirt. We stopped for a picnic lunch, where we sat on smooth rocks erupting from a field of grass and wildflowers, overlooking a smooth lake. Our final stop was at a small lake called Baker Lake, and we tied the horses and walked down to the end of the lake where it became a stream.

Pulling off our boots and socks, we waded across the stream, picking out rocks to step on. Well, for the most part we did. I said to our group, “I hope I can find rocks that aren’t slippery,” and about that time, found a nice slippery one and fell into the stream. It was quite the comedic move, and I was pleased to provide the entertainment for the group. Fortunately, my camera was in the high-side pocket, and it survived unscathed. Our sweet guide came in to see if she could help me out and she too slipped and fell in. I accused her of going above and beyond her duties by making a sympathy fall. We both rode back with damp jeans, but it was worth the adventure.

We saw no bears, damn it, but we did see some odd looking rabbits who seemed to be having a grand time, and a large badger crossed the trail in front of us. Canada has the loon on its one dollar coin, which they call a looney, and we did see a lone loon out on the lake. He dove and floated and called out his looney call as we rode by.

By the time we returned, my ass was bruised and aching, but it was one of the best rides I’ve had in a long time. The woman who runs the outfit had suggested I take this ride today instead of the one tomorrow because they feel it’s the best scenery. It must be, because I can’t see how it could have been any better.

I shopped for a few groceries afterwards to replenish my supplies, and realized I had almost four hours of daylight left. The Icefield Parkway is one of the things the parks here tout the most, and I knew I only had this afternoon or tomorrow afternoon to make the drive. So I headed north on the park’s famous scenic drive. I was moved to tears more than once as I looked at these mountains, jutting up violently from the earth, still wearing snow and housing some of the planet’s retreating glaciers, just outside my car’s windows. The shapes and sizes of these Canadian Rocky peaks are so varied and dramatic, I felt I was in a foreign land. (Oh wait, technically I guess I am.) They evoked pictures I’ve seen of the Alps or the Himalayas.

The Columbia Icefield contains numerous glaciers, and the park has built a road up close to one of them. Along this road there are signs posted: “This glacier was here in . . .” It’s pretty dramatic to drive where a glacier was less than 75 years ago. The land there is barren and rocky, wet and soggy.  It’s a dramatic illustration of what is happening to the glaciers planet-wide. And to be that close to a glacier is intimidating: The ice is massive and imposing, and breathtakingly beautiful.

I snapped picture after picture as I drove along, sometimes through the windshield of the car, sometimes pulled over and through the driver’s window, and sometimes stopping and getting out to try to capture the effect. I don’t know if any of them did – I’m too tired and saturated tonight to go through them all and to load any on here. After I’m not on data roaming, I plan to add more pictures to this blog.

But I am exhausted – physically, emotionally, and sensorially.  And I have a long hike around Lake Louise tomorrow. So I am off to my tent, where I hope to stay nice and cozy, protected from the predicted 27 degree night air. And where I can dream of glaciers and rushing streams and mountains. And mountains.

Day 7, July 25: Canada, O Canada

Day 7, July 25: Canada, O Canada

Today I left the familiarity of Glacier, and the U.S., and headed north across the border for a short stay with our northern neighbors.

Border Crossing

Crossing the border always makes me feel like I suspected criminal. Since Jesse and I tried to visit the Canadian side at Niagara two years ago without passports, my crossing into Canada becomes an inquisition.

“So you were denied entrance into Canada before?”

“Yes sir. A friend and I tried to visit Canada without passports at Niagara Falls and they turned us around.”

“Hmmm.” And then the border agent reluctantly returns my passport, giving me the once over. And he’s not smiling. I still smile my best and thank him. Then ask him for the best route up to Banff. He softens a little – just a very little – and gives me his opinion. I can’t help but think he’s happy to see me go.

“Troublemaker,” he seems to be thinking.

Once on the road again, I’m in Canada. The mountains continue from Glacier, and they seem even more massive for some reason. The mountains don’t end, but continue sitting just off to my left the whole way up to Banff, sometimes closer and sometimes more remote. But then they erupt in front of me, seeming to violently thrust up from the earth. These are not hills. Never could be mistaken for hills, even from miles away. These are the rugged, cragged peaks our imaginations conjure up when we think of mountains.

And the closer I get to Banff, the more impressive they are. I've spent time in the American Rockies, seen the Grand Tetons, visited Yellowstone and the Sierra Nevadas. For some reason, these mountains are more shocking to the senses. Everything here seems more exaggerated. The scent of the pine trees when I pulled into Lake Louise and drove among them was overpowering. Think of a freshly cut pine Christmas tree and how that scent is so strong when it’s confined in a closed space. That’s the concentrated pine smell that filled the car. The mountains, the glaciers, are bigger, higher, more, I don’t know, mountainish. I had been told it was more impressive than Glacier, but I didn't believe it. But if you judge strictly on the magnificence and overwhelming presence of the mountains themselves, I have to say it’s true. The hiking is still up for debate – I can answer that in a few days.

These earth bridges over the highway are for wildlife to cross.
Since built, there are many less incidents of road kill.

I did take a short walk around the campgrounds to get a little walking in. I miss my daily hike, but with the long drive I just didn't have time. But I did walk long enough to stretch my legs and get more awe-inspiring views of the mountains. I walked along the river that runs by the campground. Looking down from the bridge, I felt dizzy with the speed and force of the water rushing by. Again – it was more violent and more powerful than most streams or rivers or creeks I've encountered.

My campground, enclosed in electric wire,
 is just to the right of the trees here. 

One other thing impressed me on the drive into Banff – I experienced a feeling of anxiety. It’s the first time I've felt anxious on the trip, and I can’t put my finger on exactly what has caused it. I don’t feel it so much this evening after finding the park, the campground, and setting up camp, but I don’t know if it’ll come back or not. The only thing I can figure out is perhaps since I've never been here before, doing it alone causes me anxiety. Everywhere else I've been so far has been somewhat familiar if not specifically.

I’m also a little concerned about the cold and rain. The woman I talked to about my full day of horseback riding into the backcountry tomorrow said to plan on temperatures in the 40s and she said it’s rained up here 48 of the last 50 days so to bring rain gear. And the low tonight is forecast to be a cool 31 degrees. I have my umbrella out while I’m writing to shield my computer from the occasional raindrops that are falling. And I've heard thunder a number of times since I've been here. This might, in fact, be the first night I experience rain while camping. It’s hard to believe, but I don’t think, in all the nights I've camped, it’s ever rained on me. It was bound to happen sooner or later, but a warm rain would be more pleasant than a cold one. It will do what it will do and I’m sure I’ll survive. And live to tell the tale. 

But now, I need to bundle up and prepare for this cold night (the first of three). I’ll write more tomorrow as long as my fingers aren't too stiff from the cold to throw out these words.