Tired and Sore with Lingering Happiness Part 1: To the Snowline

Photos of Hike to Camp Muir on Mt. Ranier - July 31, 2006.
To the Snowline
None of us got much sleep the night before what with last minute excursions to the store, the borrowing of gear, the anticipation of group burping and passing gas to avoid altitude sickness, the knowledge that I hadn't trained for the event as planned and, oh yes, the excitement of the day ahead. In the morning, my neck already hurt from trying out the backpack that I had unearthed only hours before from the recesses of the closet almost causing an avalanche. Phil picked me up at my house at 6 AM and we arrived at the parking lot in Paradise around 9 AM. Brenton, a young man in his twenties, slept like a baby in the backseat along the way. He wasn't awake when Phil, our guide, handed me the map and asked me if I knew how to get there. We chose a nice route to the east of Tacoma with lovely views of our object of desire. I was in the front seat and thought it impolite to catch up on my sleep there and besides I might miss something, like the bumper sitcker that read, "The Ten Commandments are not multiple choice."

"That's a stupid bumper sticker or maybe it's just my antitest bias," I remarked to Phil, the president of the local school board.

More dinking around before we go up Mt. Ranier which you can see behind them. My ski pants were overkill so I left them at home, but I did bring along my ski jacket which I now left in the car. I applied plenty of suncreen in the restrooms of the visitor center there at Paradise. Phil also got each of us a copy of a map of the Paradise area trails to keep in our packs. That and a whistle will be handy in case we get lost.

Brenton and Cindy at Alta Vista, elevation 5940' where Robin and I "summitted" on June 29th. All was snow covered then except for a few patches of trail and most of the stone steps leading to this spot.
We are about 15 minutes into our hike which began at 9:20.
After months of indecision and scouting yard sales and thrift shops for gear waiting for the moment when I would know that I should go, reviewing all the metaphorical Mt. Raniers that I ought to or want to be attempting to attain instead, I preciptously made the decision to go late yesterday afternoon by buying a cheap pair of waterproof boots, retail, on sale. A quick meeting at our guide Phil's house yesterday evening outfitted me with his dark grey polyester shirt and his daughter's black dance pants. I rounded it out with a long sleeve silk undershirt - yardsale, and a brown silk vest - thrift shop. I borrowed the wool felt cap from Amity in Paris,1999. Also on the advice of Phil I ran out to the grocery and bought a pair of microfiber trouser socks as a lining to the nice wool socks I bought with the boots. This is supposed to prevent blisters. Though 'cotton is rotten' because once it's wet, it's wet and cold, and you should just leave it home, that's all I own. Most days I'm avoiding the effects of xenoestrogens from petroleum products, one of which is polyester. I'm not usually avoiding hypothermia. I chose the lightest cotten undies I own, not having time to run out to the store as underwear is an unavailable product in Duvall, and hoped for the best. I am also wearing non-waterproof leather gloves. Sunglasses are a must to protect the eyes from the glacial glare; mine are prescription but a wraparound shape might work better. Phil and Brenton didn't seem to need gloves, but my hands were cold. The walking stick is courtesy of Phil. Brenton is carrying an ice ax.
Phil and Brenton also at Alta Vista, but looking in the directon from which we came. They are soon to confess that they are hoping that something will go wrong with me so that they will get to rescue me. Their masculine fantasy does not correlate with my feminine aspirations for the day. Mainly I am hoping to reach Camp Muir because the outhouses are located there. It is my firm desire notto have to make yellow snow in the company of the aforementioned knights. Neither have I stowed a "privycy" poncho in my backpack for such an occasion. There they are again. Time for one last picture of Phil checking our location on the GPS and getting the water bottle in and out of the back pack and then onwards up the Skyline Trail.

Remember this! This is the way back.