Into the hills!

This past weekend I traveled home for a friend's wedding. As a bonus it also happened to be another friend's birthday. This particular friend, Jake, had been in Bulgaria with the Peace Corps for the past year so it was nice to see him. He even brought some Bulgarian "moonshine" with him. I know it was legit because he was carrying it around in a bottled water container.

Training at home can be somewhat difficult without a bike, so I mostly go for trail runs, or play soccer. At least one time while I'm home I like to travel into the mountains and take advantage of the terrain. Although I waited until the last minute, this trip was no different.

Eight hours before my flight was scheduled to depart back to Boston I convinced my mom to drive with me to Mt. Rainier National Park for a little exploration. Due to the fact that I had never done the run, and there was a distinct possibility it would turn into an route-finding fiasco, I packed my suitcase and brought it in the car with me in case we had to go straight to the airport. I arrived at the 3800' trail head just after 5 p.m. and began my little warm-up routine.

Starting from a bridge crossing Fryingpan creek, the trail meets up with the Wonderland Trail, a roughly 90 mile loop around the mountain. I was just doing a small out and back section, however. Following the creek up the valley, the grade of the ascent is pretty consistent, with only a few steep sections. The trail is smooth and fairly wide, and easily runnable for most of it's length.

Around 5500 ft. the snowline caught up with me and the running became pretty difficult. I wasn't carrying an ice axe, didn't have crampons, snowshoes, or poles, but did have the benefit of an earlier traveler kicking moderately deep steps for me. It was probably the only thing that kept me going, having seen a woman being carried down in a stretcher on the way up. I could see the ridge line I thought I had to make just several hundred feet up, and figured I a little risk would be worth it.



Summerland is a campground just below the treeline, a little over a mile away from my objective, Panhandle Gap. Getting up above the ridge I found myself surrounded by snow, and wandering somewhat aimlessly as I searched for an obvious path. Luckily, I met a friendly hiker and his son camping at Summerland. I trust I would have found my way eventually, but having neglected to actually print a map, I was happy to have someone point me in the right direction. We spoke briefly about how it may be hard to run in the snow, and he mentioned one other person had run up just before me and was also having trouble route finding. On a side note, I never saw this other supposed runner, and having come up the only trail that didn't continue onto the glaciers...I hope he's okay.

Crossing the slushy snow fields my footing wasn't exactly stable, and I was glad to not really dwell on potentially deadly situations; it would have really ruined the views I was getting! Several tracks from hikers made their way towards the Gap, crossing darkened depressions in the snow. I was sure to utilize my somewhat questionable leaping skills to avoid ending up in the water I could hear running vigorously underneath.

With Panhandle Gap looming, I checked my watch and decided to cut the run short. The snow was making it hard to move quickly, my run was only halfway done, and my flight was in a little over four hours.

Topping out less than a quarter mile and a few hundred feet away from my objective, I made my way back to Summerland, and then the car. A group of hikers staying in a shelter at Summerland, who had looked at me pretty questionably when I came trotting up in my sleeveless shirt, tights, and tiny running pack, were apparently impressed with the speed I was able to cover the snowfield and congratulated me upon my return. I think they were just happy they didn't have to come rescue me after falling in a crevasse or sliding into a rock and fracturing my legs... Straight to the airport snacking on beef jerky and chugging fluids I got out of the car and darted into the terminal covered in sweat and mud only to find my flight had been delayed two hours... I love my mom, and I think it's great she hates using her cell phone, but as I sat in my tights at an airport eatery forcing down a "garden burger" that looked and tasted more like congealed vomit, I wished she wasn't so diligent about turning her phone off when she didn't think she needed it.

Back to Boston!

Nick
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