The view from campsite 2 the next morning was awsome.


Comfort station -- The reflective thing in the left corner of picture is the seat-lid.

We don't think this bridge was meant to support numerous people and a dozen bags of food.

We awoke with a view of a cloud-filled valley below us, but behind the shelter the view of Rainier was perfect...with the sun hitting it so strongly that the pictures came out entirely white. But we didn't know that, so we took a slew of morning pictures in front of the mountain. Again we got ready very slowly, lingering over breakfast and instant chai-latte, hoping the clouds would burn off so we'd have valley views.

By 11am we were packed up though, so we headed up the trail, through the field, past the stream and into the mist. It got very surreal very fast.

As we passed over the first hill, the landscape abruptly switched to a cloud-enshrouded white-rock field. Perched on a big boulder next to us was a marmot, happy to see us on our way.

Moving past the waterfall we came to our first snowfield, with just enough footprints to show the way, but not so many as to erase the solitude of this hike to Panhandle Gap. We meandered through a lot of rocks and over streams and finally the clouds lifted behind us, revealing the green valley we'd left.

We came to a basin just below the Ohanapechoch glacier, where it was just us, a green-blue lake and a small patch of wildflowers, but the rock and snow rose all around.

Onward we went, up the far snowfield. on the way up Bob got the urge to sled down it, so he took the pack off and tried to use a big ziplock bag as a sled...but try as he might he couldn't slide. He ran and skidded most of the way down, then walked back up disappointed, but with a nice view.

So onward we went again. The stretch that becomes the ridge involved some really tricky scrambling (at least tricky with a pack on) where one slip would dump you down the steep way.

The trail off this south-side of the ridge had some rough grass and small flowers. It was a good place for lunch. We sat on some rocks overlooking the valley -- the view was supposed to be amazing, but we were just as happy to see the clouds hanging in it, below us.

Oh I'm a marmot and I don't care,
I've got buck teeth and bristly hair
I live in dirt, I'm wearing dirt,
dirty dirt dirt dirt dirt dirt dirt dirt

So down we went toward Indian Bar camp, we thought. But first there were more rockfields and snowfields. The final snowfield was about 900-feet and pretty vertical, then we had to cross its width at the top. (a little flag marked the turning-point).

Where the snow stopped, some meadow began. And true to the rumor that "There's not a flat-mile of trail on the Wonderland," we pretty soon started downhill. Gradual at first, but then it turned to switchbacks. The grass and flowers gave way to trees and mist and fog. The trail got steeper and steeper, and the mist thicker. We kept going. My hair was soaked. Time lost meaning and we thought we'd been going downhill forever...and with the cloud-mist and trees so thick we couldn't see more than a few dozen feet any direction. Sarah and I became giddy.

Bob outpaced us, and we groaned at each turn that revealed more downhill. We stumbled on for who-knows-how-long. Sarah's ankle gave-out and she fell into a bush. I was getting shooting pains to the left of my tailbone...we laughed maniacally and limped on. I had a cliff-bar to stave-off delerium.

Finally we hit some level meadow again, and the trail was trough-like and almost too narrow. Bob came running up the trail, no pack, saying we were almost there. We were so relieved. We collapsed into campsite 1. It was small with no view, but it was the closest one to the river. Yay.

I ran to check the other campsites, and it seemed camp 2 and 3 were better with views, and closer to the "comfort station" according to a sign pointing up a long trail... but they were also far from the stream and up steep inclines.

Now let's discuss the phrase "comfort station" a moment. You picture a toilet of course, and perhaps some hand sanitizer. You certainly would think it was enclosed in some way.....But no. Go back to picturing the toilet. No, wait...just the toilet seat, on a wooden box, on a hill, around the bend of a long uphill trail. Great view though. And certainly well ventilated. TIP: drape an article of clothing over a branch before the bend, just to let other campers know you're in/on/at the comfort station. Again though, great view. (And it is comforting that they put these pit-toilets in, as it does keep the campsites and surrounding area clean and orderly.)

On to dinner...which we ate on rocks down by the river...uneventful until it got dark, and we had to hang the bearbags...off the bridge, over a waterfall, with one side of the bridge missing.

The guys from campsite 2 held out their hand to me, revealing a spaghetti-looking length of twine, asking "do you have any other string we could use?" Glad I had my 100 feet of nylon cord. I cut-them-off a length and wished them luck. (One had a fear of heights. eek.)

However you wouldn't trust your 30-pound bag, 6-day supply of food to dangle over a torrent all night, would you? SO Bob and I and our headlamps set to separating everything into 5 smaller stuff-sacks, and spent a good 20 minutes on the rickety bridge figuring the best way to tie them all securely. (Don't look down. Focus on knots. Don't move too much in any direction.) Whew.

Back at the campsite Sarah had the tents arranged and our gear layed out in the meager space between trees. Into my comfy sleeping bag I crawled. Slept like a rock. Amazing day.