Wonderland Day Two –Heat and Exhaustion; Can I Really Do This?

(Devil’s Dream to South Puyallup River.  Per my AllTrails app:  Length: 9.73 miles; Elevation gain: 2,211 ft.; Moving Time: 4:27; Total Time: 6:54)

The Sleeper Awakens…

I slept all right.  The sleeping pad, though heavy, did the trick to keep me well off the hard floor.  I did get up a couple of times to pee on my favorite tree.  Then up to retrieve my food from the bear pole.  Bread and cheese and salami, a good breakfast with a tangerine.

I must have been reluctant to leave, however, because I tried to set the record for the slowest camp break ever.  Worse, when I thought I was done I had to take everything apart again looking for my sunscreen, before remembering that it was in the hip pocket of the backpack where it belonged…  I also enjoyed the pit toilet — what a luxury!  After all, I had packed a trowel to dig cat holes in the woods should I have the need to go with no toilet nearby.

I said goodbye to Darcy and Polly and Gita at about 8:30.  They seemed nearly ready to leave also, but that was the last I saw of them all day.  As I headed further uphill, I saw a strange pale mass to my right that I chose not to investigate because I wanted to start setting a hiking rhythm.  The next bend revealed that it had been… snow!

First snowbank on the trail!

There was much more ahead, but nothing to impede the trail.  Even better, between the snowbanks were meadows filled with wildflowers, glorious even though I had no idea what species any of them were.  One that especially impressed me, I learned later was False Hellebore.  This deceptive plant is extremely toxic, especially to livestock.  But it is beautiful…

False Hellebore — DO NOT EAT!!

A Side Trip to Mirror Lake

All day there were flowers of different kinds at different altitudes and terrains, but all stunning.  Since it was to be a “short day” (shortened because Klapatche had been “stolen” when I was making my first itinerary) I took the side trail to Mirror Lake.  If you look at my mileage, you may wonder how come I list 117 miles for a famous 93-mile trail?  These side trips (accidental and purposeful) are the reason the numbers do not match.

Halfway to the lake I realized, “What an idiot!  I’m coming back this way, why am I carrying the heavy pack?”  So I stashed it and continued, free!  The pack is my everything – food, shelter, water – but I hate it.  It makes me feel slow and old, at least on the uphills.

At the lake was a great view of Tahoma, though the “mirror” did not work so well as it had a layer of organic scum on part of its surface.

Tahoma Seen from Mirror Lake

The cool thing is that it was full of frogs, and I love frogs.  Some jumped in the water and swam quickly away as I approached.  Others took the risk that their camouflage concealed them, and kept them safe, so they stayed still and pretended they were invisible.

Back on the Wonderland Trail I was now headed down, all the way to Tahoma Creek.  This was a gushing glacial torrent overpassed by a long, high, one-hiker-at-a-time, suspension bridge.  I would have loved to have taken a picture of my hiker’s shadow cast onto the rocks and the river far below, but the bridge was so wobbly I had visions of dropping my poles, or my cellphone, or myself over the side, so I refrained.  But I did get a shot before crossing:

First suspension bridge on the Wonderland Trail (over Tahoma Creek)

The Trail Gets Harder and the Sun Gets Hotter

Once across it was up, up, and ever up, and I was growing exhausted, especially as we broke into the sun which was relentless.  I would stop frequently to catch my breath, but with no shade it was a pitiless kind of rest.  Each time I stopped I felt a little more demoralized, and each time I resumed I felt my emotional battery charge depleting.  The high point was Emerald Ridge, and I was rewarded for my pain with the best views yet.  This is the closest the trail gets to the volcano on the west side of the mountain.  Now the Tahoma Glacier was visible, pouring melt into Tahoma Creek to one side, and into the South Puyallup River on the other.  Several waterfalls tumbled from distant bluffs.

It occurred to me that to honor the traditional lands of our Native Americans we should rename Mt. Rainier “Tahoma” just as we renamed “Mt. McKinley” as “Denali.”  However, with significant features already named for Tahoma, the way to do it would be a swap – all things “Rainier” (specifically the volcano itself) would become “Tahoma” and all things now named “Tahoma” would be renamed “Rainier.”  Probably this solution is much too simple to be workable, but it’s a thought.

Continuing to gaze upon the glacial valley it was impressive how extensive the red-brown deposits were, indicating quite a lot of iron there.  Then I was heading down again, first past a washout into the valley that left a very narrow foot passage over a cliff.  Then further down, the sliding stones got to me, even with my poles for balance, and I fell hard, twisting my right knee into an odd position.  I already had ligament damage in that knee from playing soccer long ago, so I wondered if my hike might be over right there.  Carefully I re–established it, gingerly I felt it, cautiously I bent it, and the moment of dread began to dissipate – all the parts seemed to be working, and without pain.  Relief!

Arrival at Last!

Finally, I arrived in South Puyallup River Camp, and I was beat. It had not even been an especially long day.  Between the blasting sun and not fully having my trail legs yet, I had a creeping doubt about completing the circuit.  The next day was to be an extra-long one too, to make up for the first two short days.

But what choice did I have?  I was not at a roadhead.  And my feeling was worry, not defeat, a totally different frame of mind.  In fact, I made the extra effort at camp to go an additional quarter mile to the toilet.  This was not to see the facilities, but to see the rock formations behind them, like a horizontal Giant’s Causeway of hexagonal columns formed by the cooling basalt after an eruption.  A mate on the trail had clued me in to see these columns, the real advantage to camping at South Puyallup.

Semi-horizontal mass of basalt columns

Broken off basalt column — A reminder of Mt. Rainier’s volcanism

It was now time to eat, charge my phone, and sleep.  Tomorrow, I feared, would be a long, long day.  As I prepared to doze, a late satellite text came from my wife.  She assured me that I could do it.  I took those words to heart as I dozed off.