Artist's Point

The aptly-named endpoint of the Baker Highway 542 is a must-hike spot if you are ever in northern Washington.

 

Starting at Bellingham, WA, home of the historic Fairhaven district, which I am in love with, as detailed on www.youngbrokeandclueless.blogpspot.com, my other blog all about food, goes around 60 miles (depending on where you count it as starting) through small agrarian communities first, home to fruit farms, wineries, and the like, and offers pretty farm scenery and then pretty mountain scenery.  Hiking opportunities are spaced out and abundant, with mountain peaks and ridgelines, forest hiking along a turquoise river, and of course, the mountain splendor around Artist's Point.  I drove in after a good meal and a relaxing afternoon to spend the night in my car, or out on a trail somewhere.  I had no real plan in place but intended to scope out Mt Baker as a potential spot and expected to climb Mt Shuksan, a spectacular and fierce mountain I have seen pictures of, much taller than anything else in the area, other than huge Mt Baker, which is more of a routine straight smooth glacier run.  Storms were swirling all around, nothing threatening, but all a bit ominous and so several possibilities for that afternoon were off the slate.  I stalled for a good hour by taking the trail at Horseshoe Bend along a pretty shining river, glittering like a diamond in the sun as clouds swallowed the tops of all the peaks around me.  The trail is easy and flat for a mile, and then starts climbing.  Most people quit at the mile, and I advise that too.  If you want to go up steep hills, do it someplace where the final payoff will be a mountain with views.  The area made me less enthused to go see rainforests, because between Horseshoe Bend and and Ohanapecosh at Mt Rainier, I was pretty sure I'd seen two of the prettiest short forest hikes possible on this earth. 



Also nearby to this trail are Nooksack Falls, along an easy and good dirt road.  Well worth a short side trip.  Many of the following pictures were illegal, because "no trespassing" signs are posted all over this area as the cliffs are slippery and people have a tendency to fall off them.  But I figured what is dangerous for other people is not for me and did what I wanted.  I thought the cliffs were quite reasonable to walk around, as long as you don't try climbing over the fence to reach them.

 

Church Mountain, which requires a drive along a steep and rugged dirt road and is not much of a mountain.  Skip it if you want my advice.  And there is Excelsior Peak and Ridge, another not too impressive mountain that can be accessed from pavement, making it more palatable.  The views should be good if you aren't too spoiled from other better views in your life, as I am.  I skipped that trail too, in favor of Goat Mountain a few days later, which was probably a worse trail and worse views.  Goat Mountain is along a gravel road of pretty good quality, though it is narrow, and given that it is in Washington and involves Washington drivers, you take your life in your hands to go anywhere near it.  Hiking down Goat Mountain, one of my least favorite hikes in all my life, the highlight of the day was being 200 feet above the road, almost back down around noon, when I saw an SUV and a Subaru Outback both speeding recklessly and not paying attention as they nearly smashed into one another.  My schadenfreude (spelled that right on the first try; yet I can't spell in English!) would have been dampened when I realized however that I was now trapped in the area until tow trucks and ambulances could be found to clear the wreckage out of my way.  So happily, the two just squealed their breaks, looked at one another with pure Pacific Northwest hatred and holier-than-thou-itude, and then backed up at the same time until one of them found a pullout and that was that.  Goat Mountain trail goes up an ungodly number of switchbacks, probably at least 100, through a dry, ugly forest with a ton of avalanche debris, no creek crossings larger than a trickle, on a narrowing trail, which gives way after miles to a hideous and sun-exposed section of brush, and meadowy-crud, where there are more insects than I thought the universe held.  At no point is the trail pleasant or fun, and even on top, you are just on a shelf of a mountain, a long way from the several summits of the true massif, which I knew going in.  I planned to bushwhack up the rest of the way to a real summit and thought from my recon the day before and photos I snapped that this would involve climbing on good real rock slabs and walls.  But I must have had a wrong guess about where Goat Mountain trail fed out.  The bushwhack is, either impossible, or nearly so, and would be a torture hardly worth it, I am sure.  How much would you pay in your own blood and sweat for a view into Canada to the North?  I wasn't willing to waste the next 6 hours going a mile and back to find out, and I am sure the ugly squat bushes and pine trees are happy with my choice.  The view from Goat Mountain is bad, and as far as I can guess, the reason "everyone" (the info desk ladies' word when they successfully talked me out of a suicide run up Shuksan which was quivering with avalanche snow) is that the trail was melted out while better trails were not.  As a public service gesture, I beg you: do not waste your time and knees on Goat Mountain!  The trail was so vile that I kept shaking my head over it for days.  Every time the rest of the week I was tired, I would ham it up Charlie Chaplin kicking a pebble style and sulk: "I'd still have some knees and pop in my calves if not for Goat Mountain."

Excelsior Peak will probably be similar, with long and plentiful switchbacks up a steep hill covered with trees.  This is the only way the trails can be done, but its a high toll to pay just to make a mountaintop, as you go back and forth, with no views to replenish your stores of energy or inspire you to keep going, and with no hope of any variety.  Forests are forests, but when you zig zag past the same pocket of trees for an hour, slowly gaining altitude and sweating through your clothes, its worse than ever.  The Excelsior Ridge and Peak will be a payoff though, as you can follow the ridge 2+ miles and descend a different route if you like, though that would mean walking back to your car along the highway for a few miles.  You would see all the Canada peaks to the North and especially some impressive peaks nearby in Washington, namely Mt Tomyhoi, Mt Larabee, the Pleiades, and Winchester Mountain, with an official trail and overlook, that would offer spectacular views.  Tomyhoi and Larabee involve bushwhack approaches and will be climbs, only for "professionals" or the serious and experienced mountaineer.  These peaks are accessed from the Twin Lakes area, accessible only by dirt road, and bad steep dirt road at that.  It will require 4 wheel drive, and a true high clearance vehicle, not a toy SUV like a Honda CR-V, or the yuppie Subaru Outback which for all its promotion as a compromise between sedan and off-roader, is a joke in Colorado, according to message boards I've read by the serious dirt roaders and gets only a scant precious few inches more clearance than my very low Toyota Camry.  The road was instantly and obviously nasty to me, and I did not try it.  The info desk women assured me it was terrible and that the only person they'd heard from recently was a Jeep Wranger owner who had turned back because he was bottoming out and the road was too rugged!  A Wranger!  People put up with 15 miles per gallon and bad performance in all road conditions and poor reliability with frequent breakdowns just so they can take terrible dirt roads, so how bad is this road!?  Its a shame either way as I would have loved to go up to that area, and still would.  Its an awfully long dirt road to walk though.  Looks like a good 15 miles at least on my map, and I lean closer to 20.  

 

Artist's Point was my only payoff for the whole road then.  The trail to Lake Ann, from which I planned to climb Shuksan was totally snowbound, with the lake still frozen.  This was surprising and apparently is not common, which goes to show, that even in an average snow year, there will always be spots that take a dumping.  Shuksan's cliffs and glaciers were not in condition and were quite obviously ready to avalanche.  Even novices and stoners looking out at it could see this.  I actually doubted whether the lake was completely frozen as most hikers will report a lake as "frozen" if it is not completely melted, clear of snow on the banks, and warm enough to swim in, and info people do not know the difference.  My info ladies were very nice older ladies, clearly not mountaineers, and I suspected the lake might be at least part-melted, but still, the route looked bad.  I have since discovered that at least several groups have made the climb I was intending in July and August, with online trip reports I've sniffed out.  However, their list of gear is staggering and just the bolts and screws they used would have weighed more than all my pack.  Going in teams, they used dual ice axes, double plastic boots ($400 usually), rope, anchors, ice screws, and every other kind of toy ever invented.  The description also makes it clear I would have been over my head, solo.  Sure I could have climbed it probably, had I not been killed in any avalanches (ice falls as loud as bombs/trains, and crevasses/moats, etcetera were mentioned in all reports), but coming down 4000 feet of mixed cliffs and glaciers would have been danged hard to not cliff out repeatedly, end up lost, trapped, or just down in the wrong area.  Probably would have been exhaustive, frustrating, and not a good part of a balanced and prolonged mountain trip.  But maybe someday, I will go solo the thing.  These guys were all apparently intimately familiar with the route, in standard rock climber ways, having the whole thing broken down by previous climbers.

 

Climbing today, as I've mused before, is an odd business.  Or hobby.  The approach people take is largely that of scientists doing research.  A doctor does not just start doing research without first reading all the current journals to know what has been done, discovered, etcetera.  And no one would announce results before knowing if they just "discovered" something or were confirming another's research.  Climbers do the same.  Any first ascent is like gold and honor.  To that end, all these serious climbers could do a climb blindfolded by the time they actually get to a mountain, having studied it endlessly.  They know every move so the danger is largely removed, or filtered, and the thrill is a lot like a roller coaster ride.  Almost like being on a track.  Part of this is to minimize risk of dying, I get that, but part too is so that at any point, a team can just say, go right 50 feet and know that no one has climbed this cliff, so if they do, its a variation route and they can get in a climber mag.  I can understand that too, though to me it all feels way too competitive and desperate for recognition with a community.  There are some like myself (I am sure others do this too) who just show up, take a glance, and go up, the way mountaineers used to, when they were drawing maps that did not exist, naming forests and peaks (badly too often) and then describing their routes to confirm they were really there and so others could follow.  There is more purity to that than our era, and rather than shrug, or feel hopeless and give up the idea of primacy as lost to the world and everything discovered, I (and some others I am sure) have come up with a different solution: don't read the guide books, get lost, risk everything the first explorers and wild men did, and shun the real world.  Don't brag to the magazines, or even read them.  Just go out and enjoy mountains the original and a more natural way.  I doubt I've done any first ascents, and if I have, I don't care.  I don't feel that an individual challenge is comprehended by those who try to turn it into a competitive community thing.  See I climb because I like and I like mountains.  I could care less if anyone or everyone else does it.  I mean partly I do feel that the world should be used and enjoyed, so I like going where others do not go, and I avoid crowds and all that, but my point is, I race myself, and if others happen to do the same mountains, fine.  The point is its man verses mountain, or man and mountain, if you prefer the non-combative, not man verses man on a mountain.  If I were the last man on earth, I'd still want to climb Mt Shuksan, because it looks fun, hard, and cool.

So, I gave up Mount Shuksan, the mountain I most wanted to climb on this whole trip, but oh well.  Live for another day, and I did scout the area.  Artist's Point is just a mile past the Lake Ann Trailhead and is just a parking lot with a bathroom.  This year, somehow, there is a huge amount of snow left.  Here is the bathroom:

And here is the parking lot as I left to go climb Table Mountain, most people starting home for the night:
 

Artist's Point has trails in every direction, though this time they were all hidden in snow, but that did not stop people, even women in sandals, from going up the overlook mountains.  And trying to "boot" sled down.  For once in Washington I was not mocked for my gear or preparedness and as I trudged along safely in crampons, most were impressed and envious that I had such things, and a few asked to look at them and were surprised cleats can be purchased to go over regular shoes.  I grabbed the same peak as everyone else, though I went farther, caught a family with a scared little girl, and impressed her as to the lack of danger in our situation by goat leaping down the slopes right next to them, putting distance between us quickly.  She still seemed scared though the brother little boy I think wanted some ice cleats right then and there as I bounded away from them like a jumping flea on the ice.  Sandal woman who made it all of 1 foot before falling on her slide attempt at the instigation of her boyfriend type was also a little pissed by my running/bounding past at Usain Bolt speed.  

 

Next up I axed and climbed my way up a steep snow slope to Table Mountain, finding when I got near the top there is a walking trail all the way up and mostly out of the snow on the South side of the mountain.  Now you know.  Luckily I didn't come sweating and heaving over the edge of the peak to find boy scouts looking at me like a lost fool.  I took the easy trail on the way down.  But I explored the long and flat rolling summit of Table first.  It goes for several miles and I had a great hike of it late evening as the sun was starting to set, with clouds all around, getting darker and swirling and swallowing mountains.  This would all have been pretty dangerous had the parking area not been so nearby.  But it looks dangerous in the pictures.  I had Table to myself.  I scouted mountains for next day and there were good possibilities in every direction, pretty mountains and trails to passes or else lots of snow to do what I wanted over.  I slept in the car, inside a cloud, though it did not snow, and had I admit, a complete freak out.  Coming back from the bathroom at one point around 2 am, I saw a shadow, thought it was a bear chasing me, ran by instinct a few feet, then stopped myself and faced it, before I realized how silly I was being.  My flight instinct was triggered so easily because I'd not carried my knife or axe or baton to the bathroom with me and a man stands little chance against even a small bear bare-handed.  Later in the morning a truck with trailer pulled up and some man felt the need to come over and look in on me sleeping.  Probably he wanted to make sure I was okay, but I switched the window my head was under so if he came back to shoot me he'd only get my feet and I could see him coming, which means I'm either a complete paranoid, or that I have a natural marine's mentality.  You can decide for yourself (and perhaps both are true; though that means you must sleep easy at night knowing that our nation's most paranoid are protecting us).



In the morning I felt worn down and told myself to take it easy.  With that in mind as I put boots on, though I took my pack with out onto the ice to snap quick sunrise photos of Mt Baker, I did not change my clothes, and stayed in my thermal long underwear and sleeping shirts.  But the usual happened and once I was moving, I felt as strong as an elephant and wanted to go just a little further.  Soon I was changing under a tree and going commando, down to a white tee shirt and without any water was making good time along the Ptarmington Ridge trail, which was mostly snow.  I kept going just a little further and then gave it up and decided I was just doing it all.  The trail ends at a peak that looks like the prow of a sinking ship, Coleman Pinnacle, though as I'd not studied or brought my map, I was calling it "Ptarmington Prow" as I went, and not only did I get there, but kept going, traversing another mile of glacier to target a mountain slightly taller at the end of the whole ridge, and forming a cirque to the north.  I'd seen it the night before and figured it would make for a good, but long day.  Now I was almost here.  Baker was still far away and had that quality of many large mountains of looking farther away the closer I got.  The approach from Artist's Point would be a two day affair, at least, and the way was crevassed heavily this time of year, so I gave it up content enough as I'd never planned on doing Baker anyway.  Shuksan was my grief.  The mountain I targeted I've mentioned already.  I named it "Mt Lava Forest" and your options to reach the summit are: approach from the North and take a ridge of snow all the way (this is only reasonably done from Ptarmington Ridge trail and would involve a couple extra miles of traverse around unpleasant and even sketchy slopes, either snow or scree, depending on conditions, or: don't make the summit.  From the South, it cannot be reached, short of chain saw, flame thrower, or incredible amount of grit and stupidity.  You have a choice of rotten and deadly lava cliffs, all overhanging, fall and slide prone and terrible if not impossible to climb, and a brushy pine forest so dense you are walking on pine branches, getting coated with sticky pissed-off tree sap (oh yes trees can get pissed off and if you don't believe me, just kick one until it starts oozing at you sometime), poked, torn, tripped, snared, and making no progress whatsoever, while damaging a fragile ecosystem.  The view from "Little Lava Forest" just South is just as good and count it as the mountain and move on with your life.  Below the view towards Mt Lava Forest from Little Lava Forest and my first "crevasse".  A little hollowed out channel I had to hop over on the snow.

I got back to the parking area around 2 pm, very dried out from having no water still as I'd never crossed any, though I'd been mouthing snow the last few hours to keep from getting so cotton-mouthed I could not swallow.  I kid you not: I came over a snow crest to find the parking lot very changed and very full:



And on this hill, spontaneously or led by ranger- I cannot guess- people were holding hands and singing that Charlie Brown Christmas song, where they all tilt their heads to the sky and go ooo-ooooo-ooooooo- you know the one, I can't very well write it out, there are no words, just a sort of melody, and at this shining time of day and with so many people it was like walking into a scene at the end of "How the Grinch Stole Christmas".  I thought I was tripping out.  And then some people were asking me about trails, and if there were any, and where they were.  I pointed at the snow, and said, 10 feet under you, you're on it.  Which pleased them well as they'd thought they were lost.

Other potential trails in this area are Bagley Lakes or Chain of Lakes, both of which lead very close to the summit of a pretty mountain north of Table Mountain across a cirque named Mazama Dome which I almost climbed, but I'd already done several peaks and how much were the views going to change in this area?  The peak would involve a final rough and serious scramble or climb, up snow and rock, but could be done by anyone fit and a little daring.  If you get the shakes ever or routinely, probably content yourself with the saddle.  Official campgrounds are near Table Mountain and Mazama Dome though either is within a few miles of parking in several directions.  Panorama Dome is very close to the start of the Lake Ann Trail and could be done any season even if the trail is buried.  If you can't figure out the route, then you should not even be driving in the mountains.  Its pretty straight forward.  Good pictures can be had from anywhere, even the bathroom in the parking lot at Artist's Point.  In winter this is all a ski area.  Mt Baker is climbed most commonly from the end of a good dirt road Number 39 accessed from the 542, though I never saw the turn off.  Apparently no one climbs it from the end of the 542- the way is too long- one of the nice older ladies of the info desk said this to me as if everyone in Washington knew this but me.  They were impressed I'd even gone along the Ptarmington Ridge.  "No one goes out there," they assured me.  I saw lots of goat tracks everywhere, but no goats.  Goat Mountain as mentioned is hideous and unworthy, and I also scouted the "Nooksack Cirque trail" and was not enthused.  The road is bad with no way to turn around once on it, and the parking area is prone to break ins, with the trail requiring a lot of stream fording, and I doubt, though I did not take it, offering any stellar views.  But the road is gentle enough to take any car up.  I saw one man pulled over with a blown-up radiator much worse than mine from Montana, but if you don't run your air conditioner on high while going up the road, you should be okay.  And when finished, go eat in Fairhaven, its a dream!  And if you put a good hike in, you can eat whatever you want and not gain weight.

Mount Rainier National Park and Multnomah Falls area

Having spent a full day at Mt St Helens unplanned, I needed to move quick at Mount Rainier, and I did not have the legs for it.  Prints available for any of these, and others over at my website, for any interested.  Or steal them.  How will I know?  Its sort of a victimless crime.  Unless you believe in Karma, and that the universe, when being formed by it, anticipated the internet.  Mormons seem to believe Jesus does not apply to the insides of cars, I've noticed.  They'll run you over after holding the door open for you coming out of church.

My plan for Mt Rainier was to hit all the different areas of the park: Paradise, the Tatoosh Range, Steven's Creek, several waterfalls, and then Sunrise on the North side.  I had to drive several slow winding hours from Helens which ate up the very early morning.  I made one stop at the Iron Creek Falls, which are beautiful, easy to access, and look like they could be on a tropical island.  Stop if you nearby.  I also include here pictures from the Multnomah area, as I am not going to post for them separately.  These falls I visited on the evening of my first night of travel, after driving 800 miles and 12 hours.  I had too little time and some of the falls did not come out.  Multnomah is the most famous and has a bridge across the view, and is photographed 10,000 times daily.  These falls are Ponytail, Horsetail, and Lower Oneonta.  The Lower Oneonta is waded to through a creek, which I tried the previous May on a cold raining morning, giving it up when I would have had to swim a 10 foot deep section and I could not feel any part of my body.  I was hanging on the walls of the steep gorge to get my feet out of the water periodically.  So the hike was unfinished business for me, and I actually headed to Portland first just to make sure I got this in.  Nothing was going to deny me, even the still-icy water being 4 feet or more deep, which I just plowed right through.  Luckily, my untested waterproof bags held and my Ipod, phone, and wallet suffered no damage, but I got cold.  Most of the pictures did not come out, but its a gorgeous short little adventure, if you can get around a huge log barrier at the start.  Wear water shoes.  I bought a new pair just for this hike earlier in the day, and was lucky to find some in Boise at my one stop of the day other than gas stations.  I had realized I'd left my pair at home in the closet.  Sigh.  Multnomah Falls area and trails remind me very much of Starved Rock State Park, Illinois.  The geography is the same.  Surprisingly so.  The river, the overlooks, the trails, the canyons.  If I mixed pictures, you'd have a hard time knowing which came from where, even having been there.  I suppose these falls do not freeze in winter like the Starved Rock ice falls though. 

Well Paradise area of Rainier is awful.  I hated it.  I was a few weeks early for the peak of the flowers but all the trails are steep, paved, crowded, and you have swarms of "mountaineers" being instructed in ice technique in gear way too good for them as novices that will rot in their closets after and cost hundreds of dollars.  They are clunking around on paved trails in these boots I'd blush to own, though I've gone up more glaciers than the lot of them put together will in a lifetime.  Not much there but a lodge and a gift shop.  I beat it quick, though I did get inspired looking at the Tatoosh Range.  That was my next stop.  I found by the map I'd need to backtrack quite a ways to see waterfalls in the area or Eagle Peak and its trail, and with the day already warm, I gave it up.  I figure enough people take pictures of all the waterfalls in Paradise.  I did take a few pics of the ruined gorgeous falls "Sluiskin Falls".  The Park Service has thoughtfully erected a bridge right across the falls to ruin the shot for you and you won't see it anyway for all the professional photographers hanging out menacingly and staking spots.  But if you push through some trees to a cliff edge you may get a single picture that looks natural and is unique.  As below.  Personally, my advice is skip Paradise entirely.  Its where all the cars and hikers are, so enjoy the rest of the park in solitude.

There are three main trails into the cute small Tatoosh Range of mountains south of Rainier.  Eagle Peak Trail is the longest and accesses the Western end near Longmire.  I missed that trailhead and so started at Pinnacle Peak Trail.  This is a short and sweet trail up to a saddle between steep Pinnacle and another peak named Plummer.  Also accessible is "The Castle".  A popular climb due to a pitch or two of sheer rock.  The trail is short, climbs little, and easy.  Pretty views abound of Rainier, certainly better than at Paradise.  The trail is pleasantly peopled with a few groups on weekdays, it seems, though not many.  Enough to talk to, not to be crowded by.  I saw a mountain goat from afar eating on the side of a sheer wall.  I was impressed.  The trail will be patchy with steep snowbanks melting out until at least August and just assume some will be there all year.  They are hazardous, so take poles or alpine axe.  I had cleats too, but never broke them out, though when on this cliff pictured below, it suddenly struck me that I am perhaps a little over-acclimated to mountain dangers, as I realized one slip would be serious and that I was skipping across like I was playing on beach sand.

From the saddle I walked the surprisingly difficult and far way to Plummer Peak, which is mostly a trail, but gets bushy at the end, actually requiring you climb "through" a tree and then go over a few jagged rocks for your view.  Lady bugs were up there, being swarmy.  I stayed for a bit admiring the swirling clouds out west over a sea of rolling hilly mountains, and Eagle Peak and its ridge, which looked like good solid rock climbing and made me wish I had done the trail.  But at 3.5 miles and much more elevation gain, its a half day or more adventure.  There was a fabulous pyramid down by "Cliff Lake" which sits between Plummer and Eagle.  Made me want to go there.  To the east are great shots of Pinnacle and the Castle, as well as big Unicorn Peak up above Snow Lakes, another popular trail.  No trail goes to Unicorn, but you can bush pretty easily from the Snow Lakes, with the route obvious or so I have read and the map indicates, as well as what I could see with my own eyes.

I worked over to Pinnacle next, which was looking more serious than I'd planned.  A steep scramble.  Turned into a climb for the last few hundred feet which I did not expect until looking at it.  I'd read some basic info that claimed it was a scramble, class 3, but clearly that is the usual bravado of "pro" climbers, the guys who use rope, special shoes, harnesses, and who will never admit that anything was hard, fun, or worthy of their greatness.  Actually, I've found most climbers are real jerks in my time, arrogant, and about the mental and emotional equivalents of pouting 14 year olds.  They will sneer about everything they do in a dismissive way.  And they will tell you something like Pinnacle Peak is just a scramble, class 3.  Its a 5th class climb for at least 2 pitches.  I found slings left there by pro climbers scared to climb down without rope aid, and I am confident that not many people solo climb that peak.  Its easy 5th class.  I'd say 5.5, but the scramble advice is nonsense.  A scramble, 3 class, means occassional use of hands.  I dare anyone to climb the route up Pinnacle with their hands in their pockets as I did on Angel's Landing at Zion.  That is 3 class.  Its a steep walk, with a handhold now and again.  These climbers, they're the best.  Ask them about Mt Everest and they'd say, "oh its hardly a climb.  Don't know why I even bothered.  Now Mars has some big mountains.  15 milers.  And if Kelty Inc ever invents a decent deep sea climbers suit, I could probably find a challenge climbing the Atlantic Deep Sea Ridge from bottom up without a headlamp, blind, like Aqua Man"... well I had fun.  And though its a soup sipping if you're used to mountains and climbing, its not for just anyone.  There is no route, just pick a line and try not to die.  More great views, with swirls of clouds moving in around Rainier.  Headed down to make a run at The Castle, but things were steep enough that I wanted both hands and stowing my axe in the pack was still in my way, getting caught on rocks and making me do some crazy contortions to free it from snags, which put me at risk of that nemesis of many, Gravity.  I dropped the axe down 10 feet and watched with some cursing as it bounced and sang down 500 feet of broken cliffs- all red, and shining in the sun.  My axe is red, by the way, and shines in the sun.

So I spent the next hour going up and down scree and nasty little crumbly cliffs, 4th class mostly (very steep, but not quite vertical) looking for the thing as I was not leaving it.  Eventually found it hundreds of feet above me, dangling hidden from view except from the very spot I was standing.  Couldn't see it as I climbed up, but kept a straight line and found it.  That spent enough time that I gave up on The Castle.  It was hot, bright, and I had other parts of the park to see.  Did take the time to hack away a lot of melting ice ledges on the way down though so hikers the next day would not fall through and get a jolt if not paying attention.  Skipped the Snow Lakes trail as I did not want to climb Unicorn Peak too.  I regretted this later as I met some hikers who told me the lakes were lush with flowers.  But the views from any Tatoosh Peak will be pretty comparable.  In that regard, Plummer is the easiest to reach for most and will do just fine.  If you have a car shuttle, however, the Tatoosh Traverse going from Eagle to Unicorn and down Snow Lakes would be reasonable for a day.  Or start at Snow Lakes Trail and work West to Eagle Peak and trail, as you would start from a higher elevation I think.  The view is always basically of the Tatoosh range you are not on, and of Rainier, which looks pretty much the same from about the entire state of Washington.  I skipped Steven's Creek due to rampant ugliness that was evident from the road, and tried a short touch of the Wonderland Trail which goes 100 miles or so around Rainier.  This section was very pretty and made me want to come back for more someday.  This was around Box Canyon, which is a deep gorge, very pretty, which I got not one single good photograph of.  A pity!  Looked like a greener version of some gorges in Zion National Park, and a taller version of Avalanche Gorge in Glacier (pictured in another post on this blog).  Then I went to Ohanapecosh, on the advice of some fellow travelers probably reading this right now.

Some crazy tree stumps that looked like wheels and the sun lowering on the Wonderland Trail near Box Canyon.  Above, I wondered what people in Paradise were experiencing, with the clouds probably enveloping them completely.  Too late in the day for anyone but an idiot to be on the summit- coming down would be slide city.

Good advice.  A beautiful old-growth forest with easy trails, The Grove of the Patriarchs especially impresses, with massive trees to rival the Sequoiahs or Redwoods of California.  Also there are creek and waterfall opportunities.  I played on some wet cliffs despite signs assuring me I would die if I did so.  I did almost slip, so don't do likewise, unless you have good shoes and are sturdy in them.  Not much more to say than that.  Silver Falls is not so beautiful, but the hike is short.  I drove up next towards Sunrise, but it was too late to reach it.  Tried some pictures of waterfalls along the road.  Most did not come out.  The drive is pretty though I kept few photos.  Of course, there will pro photographers setting up tripods and one actually whistled at me to let me know I was improperly infringing on his staked claim, or something.  He and a friend were setting up taking hundreds of pics of a fall, and I motioned that I was going to pass by and hike to it.  I then started climbing up the thing, all in under 3 minutes, and he began making angry noises.  Apparently it is bad etiquette to stop the 20 clicks per minute digital photo-snapping of a pro at work, when he has an hour of button pressing ahead of him.  I hate photographers.  I don't consider myself one.  I am an adventurer who takes pictures.  This gentleman was also lucky I was in a hurry, there were others around, and I was not quite as feral as I would be within a week's time, or I might have had some words with him too. I did not even deign to sneer at him though.  Wasn't near crabby enough.  Below is a fallen over massive tree you can look up inside the trunk of.  A grown man with kids walked right into it and made the kind of sound 5 year olds do in an ice cream parlor combo toy store for the first time.  It was awesome.  The tree and the guy's super enthusiastic reaction to it.  I may add more pics of some trees but most did not come out. 

I skipped Sunrise when I looked at the road.  Steep, winding, long, and I figured, not worth it.  I can only do so many slow steep roads in a week's time.  So I drove on, and had a time of it looking for someplace to sleep.  Chose a Walmart parking lot some town or other.  Gave me time to find a replacement bandana for one I lost in Glacier.  I bought 2, and promptly lost one within 2 days.  I still have the other, thankfully, though as far as disasters go, losing $2 bandanas and a washcloth (the only things missing when I got home) is pretty tolerable.

 I will probably have a few panoramas out of these pics on the actual website at some point soon.  Have not developed those yet, but got some decent wider views of the Tatoosh range peaks.  What beautiful weather!  I can't promise you'll see Rainier when you go.  Its often masked by clouds.

Mt Rainier, is, as a former resident of Washington told me before going, Mt Rainier.  But you can have fun and do some exploring at other places.  Seemed true to me.  The area is pretty, but a little crowded.  There are some great trails, but don't overdue it.  Include it in a trip to Washington, or hike all the Wonderland Trail.  You could do worse things with your time, but don't try to cover every single trail in the park.  Mt Rainier, from any angle, is Mt Rainier.  If you are climbing the peak, you get the worst of all worlds: super steep, huge, and more prominence (elevation gain) than any peak on the continent, plus hundreds of even thousands of tourists out of their league, paying guides to keep them alive and on the right path.  Doing annoying and dangerous things that ruin your trip.  No thanks, I don't sleep with prostitutes and I don't climb famous or tourist mountains.  That is one sad irony about mountains though: the best mountains go to those who least deserve and appreciate them, and the most dangerous mountains end up getting the most travel, because people like me who like being outdoors take money from rich jerks to help them despoil places they should not be and could not get to otherwise.  Ah life, it takes the thing you love and makes you compromise it.  Well, next stop was the Cascades, a half day's drive away.  But I stumbled upon Fairhaven first, and spent half a day there, recovering my legs and filling my belly with rich soups and other delicacies outlined on my food blog.  I love Fairhaven.