July 11: Goat Rocks

Today was the pinnacle of perfect hiking days. Billy Goat was absolutely right to rave about this section so. And boy were we glad to have waited the extra day at White Pass for the weather to clear. It was a beautiful, gorgeous, stunning day of walking in Washington.

We were back on the trail by 9am, bits of blue, cumulus-tracked sky showing through the dense canopy of the forest. The other hikers, all those who had been staying in Packwood waiting for this day to come for the past three days, were presumably back on the trail as well. We ran into a number of them and spent a good part of the day chatting, trading stories, passing and being passed. Eric and April are another couple of flip-floppers, whom we had never met before, and we spent a fair amount of time with them on the trail -- fair, in this case, meaning a couple of hours -- much, much more time than we've spent walking with and talking with anyone over the course of the last month. They were interesting and talkative and had loads of hiking stories to tell from all over. They were surprised to hear that this was essentially our first backpacking trip together.

The real excitement of the day came as we ascended up the side of Old Snowy Mountain and the McCall Glacier, traversing up a spiny backbone of rock over a windswept, breathtaking summit ridge. From the moment we left tree cover, the scenery was magnificent. Wildflowers were gloriously, dazzlingly abundant. The Lupine and red Indian Paintbrush and the dainty, purple Subalpine Daisies were to be found by the meadowfull. Snowmelt streams and creeks crackled and flowed with echoing, crisp resonance. The wind was howling and outrageous. And the views -- the views were pure, head-spinning eye candy.

Mt. Rainier is a hulking, huge mountain. What a majestic, towering fortress. I get a sense of the way ancient peoples must have fancied their gods; myths and legends would stand rock solid and sure footed on a foundation such as this. The weather for the whole sprawling region of dwarfed mini-highlands surrounding spins forth from its mirage-like helmet. The clouds themselves seem to emanate from its icy, sheer, armored flanks. Over our shoulder, close by, it loomed today, alternately clad in these passing, misty cloud forms; alternately showing off her mighty form in full view of our perch up on the Goat Rocks.

The climb took us up to and along a step, scree-covered crest line, which hikers commonly refer to as "the knife's edge." The narrow, potentially very dangerous trail weaves its way in and around a length of jagged, extended fingers which line the precipitous ridge. Steep, sometimes snowy, rock faces fall away on both sides of the gusty track. As the wind blasted and blew, we inched our way along the trail and across the few remaining snow fields. Finally, coming around a bend, we were met with yet another sizeable, grand view. Mt. Adams, the third tallest peak in the Cascade range at 12000 some feet (behind Rainier and Shasta, both 14000 ft peaks), stood like a lone rook waiting to be moved before us. No clouds hung even remotely near Adams. We were amazed by the sight. It seems that we have finally found our way back to where this whole adventure started. This is the Pacific Northwest that I know and love.