Hikes and Hang-Outs

Mount Rainier National Park

"Hang-Out": Ohanapecosh

Elev.: 1,914'

Sites: 188

Fee: $12/15a night (Advance reservations are highly recommended from June 21 - September 2.  The nightly fee during that period is $15 per site; it's $12 per site during the off season, when sites are available on a first-come, first-served basis.)

Flush toilets, cold running water only in bathrooms.  No showers.

If you're looking for the most beautiful campground on God's green earth, look no further than Ohanapecosh., 20 minutes north of the sleepy little burgh of Packwood, on the southwest corner of Mount Rainier National Park.  This is our family favorite.

Named for a riverside Taidnapam or “Upper Cowlitz” Indian habitation site, “Ohanapecosh” is thought to mean “standing at the edge” or “clear water.”  Some say it means “Standing on the Lip of a Rock,” referring to a certain rock where men stood to dip net fish. Whatever its meaning, the fabled Ohanapecosh nestles between the Douglas firs, western hemlocks and western red cedars of an outrageous old-growth forest.  The sprawling, 200+-site Ohana campground is one of Rainier’s choice overnight spots. 

As usual, our first impression upon pulling into the Ohanapecosh Campground is that we've fallen into a vast vat of verdure. The Ohana forest leaks lichen the color of cucumber meat from absinthe cedar boughs.  Salal, bunchberry dogwood and five types of fern peek out of a lavish carpet of clubfoot moss.  Giant conifers litter the forest like fallen behemoths.  A silver breeze rustles massive red cedar and hemlock trees, sighing sulkily through conifers that are hundreds of years old.  Sunshine skips across so many shades of emerald that the landscape looks like Oz, especially near the "C" loop.

The Silver Falls Loop Trail

Rating: HD

Distance: 3 mile loop

One of the park’s most popular trails, the Silver Falls Loop is a pleasant three mile walk from the Ohanapecosh campground to one of the park’s most impressive gushers.  It’s one of the first trails to melt out in the spring and is probably "the" quintessential "Mount Rainier hike."  It's certainly one of most well-known. In fact, this trail is one of the first Northwest hiking memories still accessible in the cluttered hard drive of this author's brain.  I vaguely recall chugging over Ohana's red earth as a preschooler, marching to the Falls with Mom and my brothers.  Tired feet notwithstanding, I remember returning with a proud sense of accomplishment tinged with awe.  More than four decades later, not much has changed.

The S.F. Loop snakes above the Ohana campground and steadily gains altitude for a mile or so through a lush forest under achingly blue skies.  Red huckleberries and pink salmonberry blooms hem the trail which dances to the thundering tune of the Ohanapecosh River.  To our right the Ohana River roars and snorts over gigantic boulders as it plunges south.  A few twists and turns and we climb above the river, losing it momentarily.  We also lose the rumbling rasp of highway traffic, which drops away like down off a dandelion.  It’s as if a curtain of quiet has suddenly descended--until we near Silver Falls Overlook.

Peering over the wet, river-chiseled rocks and moss-covered logs of the Silver Falls overlook, Josiah exclaims, "I know why they call it `Silver Falls.' It's because when the water falls over the rocks into the air and the sun shines on it, it looks like silver!"  And so it does.

 We have to shout to be heard here.  The short spur trail to the overlook hosts over four million feet a year, but it is anything but smooth.  A treacherous network of fallen logs, roots and broken rocks, this spur gives “tangle foot” a whole new meaning.  Recent storm damage has swept away much of the outlook and rail fence bordering the spot.  Access is limited.  Stepping carefully, we watch zillions of gallons of water crash over the falls, spraying us with a fine mist that’s as wet as rain.  We’ve never seen so much water plummeting over the falls.  We munch our trail mix and watch splinters of sunshine fracture the mizzle into a kaleidoscope of iridescent arcs. 

We can’t see The Mountain from here but we know she’s there, towering over us like an ermine-mantled colossus.  The Queen of the Cascades plays her well-worn game of hide and seek.  She winks at us later through skies turquoise and then pewter and then turquoise again, her ample waistline swishing above verdant skirts.

 Readjusting our backpacks, we bid Silver Falls adieu and galumph up the trail to the Eastside Trail junction.  Continuing north for a long half mile and 250 vertical feet, the muddy trail squishes beneath our waterproof Itascas.  We cross the sudsing Laughingwater Creek, which sounds just like its name, and trek toward the Grove of the Patriarchs and some Really Big Trees.

Grove of the Patriarchs

Rating: HD

From Silver Falls we continue north amid a light rain on the Eastside Trail for a long half mile and about 250 vertical feet.  This trail curves along a beautiful stretch of the foaming Ohanapecosh River to Stevens Canyon Road and the Grove of the Patriarchs. The latter is an easy 1.25 mile hike through an incredible old-growth forest on an island skirted by the Ohana.

Chugging along this lowland trail, we encounter people of all ages, races, shapes, sizes, and ethnicities.  They all have one thing in common: reverence.  You don't run on this trail. You don't cavort or gripe.  In the Grove of the Patriarchs, you enter a green cathedral of Really Big Trees: massive western hemlocks, western red cedars and Douglas firs. The guardian of all this arboreal splendor is the Ohana River, which forms a protective ring around the small island home of the Patriarchs, thus keeping them from fire over the centuries.  The result is a mammoth monument to tenacity: dozens of trees more than twenty-five feet in circumference--some as much as fifty feet around. 

The massive giants like those populating The Grove of the Patriarchs near Ohana rival the redwoods of California.  I’ve seen both, and I agree.  Indeed, the lowland forests host old-growth Douglas fir, western hemlock and western red cedar, which cluster like bristling sentinels within this life zone.  Some trees soar more than 200 feet high, with diameters of ten feet or more.  Several of these venerable ancients are more than five hundred years old - some over a thousand.

Watch where you step in the Grove. Storm damage buckled - or completely destroyed much of the boardwalk surrounding the big trees. and buried the old growth trees in a layer of silt nearly four feet deep.   The suspension bridge across the Ohana River to the island where you can find the Really Big Trees (see left) was also destroyed.  Repairs are underway.

Emmons Moraine Trail

Rating: J

Distance: 4.0 miles round trip

Because Paradise was socked in under fifteen feet of snow and cold, car-wash rain the next day, we scooted over to the White River Campground on the Mountain's eastern flank and pursued a path we'd never taken before.  Oh sure, we heard about the "killer views" and "spectacular scenery" of the White River Valley en route to dueling payoffs: a stunning vista over the massive Emmons Glacier and a great alpine basin in a park once home to mining activity.  But what about the trail?

The Emmons Moraine Trail starts out of the White River Campground, just a few miles off Highway 410.  This hike isn't particularly lengthy--about four miles RT--but it's all uphill heading out.  The path crosses a log footbridge over a creek about a mile out of the White River campground.  A short distance up the trail and we clamber atop the moraine for what can only be described as a "killer view" of the gargantuan Emmons Glacier--the largest glacier by volume in the contiguous United States.

We break out the trail mix and swig from our water bottles as afternoon sun bounces off the blue-white snow of this icy behemoth.  This view is "to die for."

"Hang-Out": Sunrise

On the thin line between dawn and darkness,

Sunrise writes her poem.

 -- Joan Walsh Anglund

 

At 6,400 feet above sea level, Sunrise is the highest point in the park accessible by vehicle.  On a clear day your thin-air exertions will be rewarded by jaw-dropping views of Mount Rainier, the Emmons glacier, and many other volcanoes in the Cascades. 

The high mountain meadows of Sunrise host a riot of colorful wildflowers for a few brief weeks each summer .  If you're fortunate to plan your visit to Sunrise in July or August, you'll be rewarded with acres of incredible wildflowers: blue/violet alpine asters, yellow Cinquefoils, subalpine buttercups and tiger lillies,  magenta and scarelt paintbrush, rosy spirea, white valerian, bistort and beargrass - too name a few.  Mount Rainier's meadows receive huge amounts of snow, giving plants a very short summer growing season.  They must grow quickly and have little energy to recover from thoughtless foot-stomping, so STAY ON THE TRAILS.  The Park Service estimates that with each step taken onto the meadows, an average of 20 plants are destroyed.  Watch your step!

At Mount Rainier National Park, “Sunrise” doesn’t have much to do with dawn.  It’s the shy sister of Paradise, Rainier’s much-fabled and ever-popular sibling.  The former is an almost eternally inaccessible alpine aerie at our favorite national park. Perched on the Mountain's snowy eastern hip facing Spokane and Yakima, Sunrise is a stair-stepping ridge that juts out from Mount Rainier for about three miles.  It's also home to the highest paved road in the state of Washington.

During our last visit in late June, daytime temperatures hovered in the low 50s and we felt every whiff of Mountain-washed wind as it bit cold and blue off The Mountain’s icy shoulders.  Even so, there's no better way to experience Sunrise than on foot.  We strike out on the Silver Forest Trail. 

As rangers advise, hikers chasing the best Mountain panoramas with the least amount of sweat and blisters select this path.  The mostly level stroll ambles onto a grand view of the Emmons Glacier and meanders through a pristine forest of silver fir with views of The Mountain that are "to die for."

They say that on a clear day in midsummer you can see the ant trail of climbers ascending to The Mountain's 14,411-foot summit.  We didn't see anyone tackling The Mountain, but it's easy to envision would-be summiteers slogging through snow and ice to the top, where the daytime *high* was reportedly 15 degrees F.

But don't stop at the viewing platform.  The Silver Forest Trail continues east, following the ridge line through meadows where the narrow dirt path is still lined by a few wildflowers not yet cowed by September's chill.  Clinging stubbornly to summer, orange paintbrush, purple Cascade asters and frothy white Western Anemones elbow red Mountain Heather and clumpy white Meadow Parsley for dribs and drabs of subalpine sun. 

The Mountain is omnipresent to the south, haloed in clouds.  The White River and Fryingpan Creek wind far below, thin slivers of silver snaking along the valley floor.  We stop to savor that sweet, thin alpine air and sip our water bottles.  No water is available on the trail, so be sure to bring your own.  And plenty of film.  Ditto jackets.  Weather at 6,400 feet can be a bit brisk, even in late summer. 

Tip: If you're looking for the best pictures of Rainier from Sunrise, plan to arrive in the morning.  Early.  The sun is directly over the Mountain by mid-afternoon in summer, and about the same in September.  (You wouldn't believe the glare off a zillion feet of snow!)