A Starbucks grande latte, bars of dark chocolate, or maybe cocaine. Those were my guesses as to what obviously was being given away for free in the airplane bathroom as we cruised from Atlanta, across the Mississippi River, over the Rockies, and finally into the bustling emerald city of Seattle. In the span of about four and a half hours, I swear half the population of Washington visited the facilities. And guess whose seat got changed to its new location just outside the door of this mystical, magical dispensary (or perhaps depository)? You guessed it. Apparently, the only thing missing behind door number 1 was an exhaust fan...nice.
Aside from the steady stream of people coming and going next to my seat (see what I did there?), the flight wasn't too bad. We arrived at our destination thirty minutes ahead of schedule with enough sunlight left to catch an aerial glimpse of the uppermost reaches of Mt. Rainier's 14,410 foot peak rising above the clouds like a dark and brooding monarch standing over his subjects. In a few days, I'll be standing on top of that peak...at least that's the plan.
After navigating my way to a sweet rental car that resembled a jelly bean with great gas mileage, I made my way down to a quaint neighborhood just outside of Olympia. Here, a couch was waiting for me as my crash pad for the evening. The couch, and the house it resided in, belonged to one of the guys who would be joining our climbing group in a few days to summit Rainier. A member of the Navy and probably around 5'7" in his mid to late twenties, Eric graciously opened his home to me, a complete stranger, for the night without many questions. It's good to see hospitality doesn't only reside in the South.
This morning I awoke around 6am, thanked Eric again for his generosity, and headed on down to Ashford. Unlike other towns found just outside the entrance to a national park, this place is pretty spartan in its appearance, and maybe that's a good thing. Aside from the campuses of the two main guide services who apparently run most of the mountaineering trips in the park, and a few scattered cafes and diners along the road leading right up to the park gate, there's a noticeable lack of the typical tourist trap businesses that try to sell you things like a chunk of granite they claim is "your very own piece of Mount Rainier". The town also isn't over-crowded with RVs and tons of families wanting to do little more than drive through a national park in their cars, snap some photos, and give in to little Johnny's demanding of a mountain-sized basket of french fries. In fact, it seems most of the people here are either elderly couples wanting a quite time away from the city, or ambitious climbers who want to take on the most glaciated peak in the lower 48. It isn't much to look at, but Ashford seems to be serving its purpose and avoiding the carbon-monoxide choked masses at the same time.
Since I had time to kill before checking in to my bunk at Whittaker's Bunkhouse, I decided to drive into the park and ride up to Paradise and the visitor's center to get some info on day hikes. The bug to get on the mountain was too strong to resist, and I needed to spend some time at higher altitudes in an effort to acclimatize, so I changed into some appropriate clothes and hiked the five mile Skyline Trail loop, cresting at around 7,000 feet before descending back to the Paradise parking lot. The views were breathtaking, and it was the perfect way to spend the better part of the day.
Tomorrow, I plan to visit the other side of the mountain and hike a trail or two near the Sunrise area. It may also be a day to meet up with the first arrivals of our climbing party. I don't mind flying solo for the moment, but a little company will be welcome. Until tomorrow...
