Don’t Eat Hot Dogs! – Wonderland Trail Day Seven

(Mystic Lake to White River Campground.  Per my AllTrails app:  Length: 15.86 miles; Elevation gain: 3,143 ft.; Moving Time: 6:11; Total Time: 12:35)

An Early Start Means Dry Shoes

I left Mystic Camp early, as usual, and the travel downhill was easy until hitting a rushing creek (the West Fork of the White River) with no bridge.  I thought about wading, but the hassle of taking off socks and having wet shoes was too much, so I searched and found an acceptable combination of stepping stones, and I got over.  Later in the day, as the snow melt increased, I doubted that would still be possible.  Further down the trail the “real” stream (Winthrop Creek) was much bigger, roaring off the Winthrop Glacier.  It did have a bridge, with incredible glacier views going up the valley.  

The glacier felt like a dark behemoth, roaring and powerful, with only glimpses of the ice in the dark grit and boulders.  Occasionally a big rock would come loose with a roar or a crack like a gunshot, making the whole thing seem alive.

Hiking along, I rounded a bend to find a bear parked in the middle of the path.  As I prepared to admire, and perhaps photograph, the noble creature, I heard a voice from beyond it saying, “Hello Mr. Bear.”  A trail runner had spotted its wet footprints on a bridge crossing and now we had it trapped in a human pincers on the path.  For a moment I was worried.  But Mr. Bear was a clever fellow and did not hesitate to depart the trail at right angles and head into the brush.  “Goodbye Mr. Bear!”

Waterfall, Lunch, Then Hiking Above the Tree Line

Further down the trail, a side stream took a substantial drop and I stopped to photograph the waterfall.  

Then, at Granite Creek, I stopped for a snack by a lovely gurgling mountain stream, clear and fresh.  Such a contrast with the plundering glacial torrent and the waterfall!  Somehow, I scraped my arm and didn’t even notice when it happened.  It was surprising to look down and see the shiny red drops building up on my arm.  Then the trail continued up and up, rising above the tree line to open vistas toward the volcano in one direction and also to vast miles of mountains in the opposite direction.  I was pretty sure I could identify Mt. Baker in the far north.

A couple were coming down from Skyscraper Mountain when I reached the saddle and we chatted.  When they said they had NOT gotten cell service up there (I had been told that I might) I lost interest in trying for the summit, even though it was only a few hundred vertical feet up to the top.  Yet as we spoke, I saw a couple of young studs approaching from the opposite direction, and whispered to the couple, “Let’s shame them into going up there.”  Sure enough, we talked them into it.  Playing on their macho egos, it was actually too easy.  I am sure when they saw the view, they were glad they did it in any case.

Talk to Strangers; Then They Are No Longer Strangers!

Over the saddle and into Berkeley Park, to find a sharp contrast with the closed-in forests of the morning.  Instead, there were wide open views in all directions; you could even see hikers in the far distance towards Sunrise.  Tahoma was no longer obscured by the Liberty Cap as I continued around to the northeast side of the volcano.  Then, seemingly suddenly, there were lots of people!  It was a weird feeling going from solitude to crowds, and it brought out the hermit in me.  I resented their intrusion into my private hike.

While I enjoy individual or small group interactions, crowds often feel like a turn-off.  I had discovered, travelling alone, that I am extremely friendly and chatty.  I would speak with total strangers as old friends and tease them freely.  But I also tried to boost them and encourage them and make them feel better.

For example, I met a Russian immigrant who turned out to be my tocayo (meaning that we shared the same first name).  He told me he had climbed Mt. Rainier SEVEN times by four different routes!  But this year he would not climb because of Rosie, his newborn child, so he was just visiting for a day hike.  I started helping him to envision taking Rosie hiking with him and later, when she was older, summiting with her!  We shook hands and parted as friends.

Or the Indian family — father, mother, and young son — whose photo I offered to take at Sunrise with Tahoma behind them.  I had been teasing the son about liking the chameleon on his shirt and wanting to trade shirts.  Asking them where they were from, they replied, with a strong Indian accent, “Dallas.” It is so common for immigrants (especially these days!) to affirm their American identity.  But I drew them out and they asked if I had ever heard of Calcutta.  Imagine!  A place I had lived in for three years!  So I regaled them with tales of my life in that great city, and of my wife, who became a famous Rabindrasangeet singer, and again we parted fast friends.

The Visitor Center — Slow Charging and Bad Hot Dogs

Approaching the Sunrise Visitor Center I started walking faster because there were so many people and because I wanted to get there early enough to charge my electronics.  At one juncture there was a beautiful lake, still sheltered by snow banks, that was surprisingly fenced in.

You don’t see many fences in the national park!  It was explained to me that this provided the fresh water for Sunrise and therefore had to be kept free of contamination.  This made sense, but it was a commentary on how irresponsible we can be if not explicitly prohibited.

Rather than take the most direct route to the Visitor Center I continued on the Wonderland Trail.  This looped south to the Sunrise backpackers’ campsite, then east, then a short trail spur arrived at the parking lot.  Not ready to face the crowds yet, I stopped first at the campsite, but just for lunch as I would not be camping there.  Who showed up halfway through my meal?  Gita, followed shortly thereafter by Polly and Darcy!

We continued the previous night’s discussion of education as Gita headed for the Visitor Center.  He took my wall charger block to start recharging their batteries.  It felt good to repay their earlier generosity as I was the only person to have a plug-in charger.  I told Darcy about Lee’s experiences as a teacher in Jordan and recommended that she read my wife’s book, Jordan’s Jewish Drama Queen.  Then I headed off to join Gita.

At Sunrise I went to the gift shop first and got a hot dog to eat.  Slathered with mustard and relish it was my first hot food in a week.  Then I found Gita at the Visitor’s Center but was disappointed to learn that their plug socket was charging everything very slowly.  We were pressed for time because it was already mid-afternoon, and the Center was closing at 5 p.m.

Charging Devices Taking Forever

After an hour or so, Gita passed the charger back to me and I put my phone on it.  It was not much different, about 10% charging per hour!  I went for a fudge bar from the gift shop, then checked and found two electric sockets in the bathroom.  The ranger said the bathrooms were open 24/7, so I started to envision staying in the bathroom past midnight and then hiking down to my camp site in the dark with my headlamp.

Then Polly, who had joined us, said she saw a battery for sale in the gift shop, and off I went to check it out.  It was cute, in the shape of a mountain, with “Mount Rainier National Park” written on it.  But I wanted something that worked, not something that looked cute.  Forty dollars later I dropped it off with Gita and asked him to check if it worked while I went to the bathroom.

On my return, the news was good, it had lit up and was apparently working.  At this point we said a final good-bye, they headed off to their camp site, and I prepared to go down to White River Campground.

Remember the Hot Dog?

It was to have been an easy hike, pretty much all downhill for 2.6 miles, but early on I discovered that it was to be, in some ways, the hardest hike of my trip.

Maybe it was the fudge bar.  Probably it was the hot dog.  Either way, something was causing me to have stomach cramps and a strong feeling of loose bowels.  Yes, I had a trowel.  Yes, I could have pulled off the trail, dug a hole, and loosed my bowels right there.  But I thought of the good bathroom now less than two miles away in White River and I started my mantra.  “Hold it in, hold it in, don’t make gas, because it won’t be (gas)!”  Down I continued, gritting my teeth, determined to make it.  Down I continued, clenching my sphincter, holding it in.

The two miles seemed to stretch on and on when I finally saw a road, and parked cars, and tents.  Not safe yet though, I searched for a bathroom, desperately asking some folks who were barbequing, “Excuse me, where’s the bathroom here?”  What a sweet reply, “Why there, right across the road.”

What a relief.  Doubly so because that proved to be all of it.  Having expelled what needed to go, my digestion was fine for the rest of the trip.  But I will not soon forget the beads of sweat on my forehead as I descended on that trail!

Setting Up Camp — Twice!

I set up camp at a site that seemed empty except for a cooler bag on the picnic table that looked like garbage.  Then I went to the ranger station, now closed, and picked up my cache bucket with my last days of food.  I also rented my camp site and slid the necessary paperwork into the slot.

Back at the camp site I had mostly unpacked and was looking at the contents of my cache bucket when a young lady drove up claiming the site.  She pointed to a hammock hung right between this site and the neighbor’s, then she pointed to the cooler bag, and said these were “holding” the site for her.  I was quite annoyed and explained that I thought the hammock was the neighbor’s and the cooler bag was just garbage, but reluctantly I ceded the location and camped nearby.  It was even closer to the bathroom, and I did not yet know whether I would need to run to it in the middle of the night.

The Benefits of Recreational Vehicles (and Nice People)

Next door to my new site was a family with two sons who looked to be in their early teens.  They were camping with a huge RV.  Having decided what food I would need to finish my hike, and what would just add weight to my load, I walked over and introduced myself to Tim and Rachel.  I explained that I was offering them the brand new plastic bucket and all the food inside it (some of it quite expensive), but whatever they did NOT want I would appreciate if they could drop off at the ranger station on their way out, to recycle the bucket and provide free food for other campers.

They were super nice and glad to do it, and they questioned me about my trip, what was involved, and how it was going.  Their questions flattered me, and made me feel like a minor celebrity.  I was glad to share, and we chatted amiably for about half an hour.

Back to my adjacent site I had a good dinner of freeze-dried Cuban rice, beans and coconut, and I started to charge my phone on the souvenir battery.  Indeed, the charge light turned on when plugged in, but a few moments later it spontaneously turned off.  I tried again, with the same result.  Oh, no!

So, I returned sheepishly to Tim, and asked if I could charge my electronics off his RV.  Friendliness makes for good neighbors: he was delighted to be of help.  Not only did he charge my original Chinese battery, but he rigged up a wire from the cigarette lighter to simultaneously charge my phone.  I explained that I would be leaving early the next morning and he replied, “Fine, just pull the plugs in the morning, take your electronics while we’re sleeping, and best of luck to you.”

I was immensely grateful and off I went to a sound sleep.

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