August 9

2304-2333

Amber leaves while I am packing up our camp to race ahead. We are meeting her family at a road crossing in Mt. Rainier National Park about 20 miles ahead and she wants to be sure to meet them at the time she had planned.

I hike solo throughout the morning and my backpack feels brutally heavy from the mayo, deli meat, and grape jellies. I take swigs of jelly as if it is a nip of whiskey. It is surprisingly energizing, like eating an energy gel. I make tortilla sandwiches with massive veins of mayo. When I take a bite the mayo shoots our the back of the rolled tortilla. It is gross, but I like it, and every squirt of mayo and jelly cuts the weight off my back.

Late in the morning I cross into the boundaries of Mt. Rainier National Park and get my first glimpse of our home mountain. It is a familiar sight. The mountain has loomed over me for the vast majority of my life. It has my near constant companion through different phases of my life: new apartments and houses, changing relationships, college and career changes. I age, but the mountain remains unchanging and constant, like the light of a lighthouse that guides me through turbulent waters while I am adrift at sea.

When I was young I would hike here with my Dad. I think about my Dad, and of our frequent hikes in this area as I pass through. I wouldn’t be out here if it wasn’t for him. Funny enough, I was afraid of heights, so the trips were not always something I looked forward to. I remember climbing to high points and pulling my hat down- being too fearful to look at any of the views.

Even though these early trips were sometimes uncomfortable to me, I have always loved the mystery of walking up to a trail and wondering what was around the next bend. The long distance trails that I have dedicated much of my adult life to have given me a platform to explore that mystery to the furthest possible extent.

In the early afternoon I reach Chinook pass and meet up with Amber’s Dad, sister, and two nieces. Amber had gotten to the road shortly before me. Her family brought us ribs, macaroni salad, bread, and cold drinks. They watch in horror as we layer inch thick mounds of butter onto our bread. Butter greases my mustache and beard as I stuff slice after buttered slice into my hungry mouth.

The girls want me to pick them up and throw them around, which is difficult in my current state. I pretend as if it is as easy as usual. It is not. A few other hikers are here, and warn us of a small fire up ahead. The group decides to bail back to town, but we decide to head on. The area up ahead has frequent cell phone service and a vast network of forest roads so it will be easy to get updates and find a way around if the fire is large.

Amber’s dad drives the group of hikers off the mountain.

We later learn that this group decides to abandon the trail completely and Craig allowed them to camp in his yard at home while they organize flights out.

The fires have been difficult to deal with, and morale is quite fragile at the end of a hike like this. I feel for this group.

Amber and I soldier on, and are rewarded with an incredible ridge hike as we leave the national park.

We run into additional hikers who are also backtracking for fear of the fire.

A storm builds above us, and we hear thunder rumbling as we climb up into cell service range. We check on the status of the fire ahead, and learn is quite small and is now completely under control. What a relief.

At dusk we find a protected campsite in the trees below the ridge in case we get stormed on overnight. Today was a great day full of people and places that matter a lot to us.