"Of all the fire mountains which like beacons, once blazed along the Pacific Coast,
Mount Rainier is the noblest."
- John Muir
Mightiest Monarch
Established
in 1899,
Located
in an essentially temperate coastal region, Mount Rainier
has thus been dubbed “an arctic island in a temperate sea.” It’s an apt description of the prodigious
peak. While far from being the highest mountain in the world, Mount Rainier rises higher above its base than most major peaks of the planet. The summer of Mount Rainier is approximately 11,000 feet above its base. This fact gives it a commanding appearance rivaled by very few peaks in the world.
Mightiest of the Northwest “fire peaks,” the “high plateau” that is Mount Rainier National Park is broken by surrounding Cascade summits. Her broad, sweeping skirts have been partially flattened by deep canyons, valleys and other impressive fire peaks.
In fact, a series of snowy peaks dominate the topography of
The “Quints”
The five most noble of the Cascade peaks are California’s Mount Shasta (14,162 feet); Oregon’s Mount Hood (11,224 feet); and Washington’s Mount St. Helens (formerly 9,697 feet); Mount Adams (12,307 feet); and Mount Baker (10,730 feet). The queen of them all is Mount Rainier. A giant among giants, the magnificent Old Girl reigns as the undisputed sovereign of the Pacific Northwest.
Standing nearly 250 feet higher than Mount Shasta, her closest rival in mass and grandeur, the Mountain is overwhelming, both by the vastness of her glacial mantle and by the striking sculpture of her hulking frame.
Towering head and shoulders over her Cascade brethren, Rainier
seems to sprout solo from sea level at the western edge of the Cascade Range, stretching her glistening crown nearly
three miles into the sky. She soars
almost a mile and a half above the Puget Sound basin, resting upon and covering
approximately 100 square miles of the Cascade Range, mountains which themselves
possess such bold feral beauty that they rank near the top on
A number of ridges pepper Rainier’s base, rising from 3,000 to 4,000 feet above the valleys that knife through them. Their crests average 6,000 feet high. So many of these ridges and peaks are so nearly equal in elevation that they seem to merge and coalesce into a high plateau and are daunting in their own right. So colossal are the proportions of the great volcano, however, that she dwarfs all comers, making otherwise hefty mountains appear Lilliputian and meager by comparison. Upon this green-forested dais rules Mount Rainier.
From the acme of the volcano one looks down upon the Tatoosh Range to the south; Mount Wow to the southwest; the Mother Mountains to the northwest; and upon all the ridges of the Cascade Range. Only Mounts Adams, St. Helens and Hood loom like solitary stalwarts above the sky line, while the ridges below melt into one vast mountain platform.
In round numbers, Mount Rainier stands 10,000 feet above her
immediate base and covers 100 square miles of territory, or one-third of the
area of
Like all volcanic cones, Rainier has been built up from the materials ejected by successive eruptions and occasional lava flows that have solidified into layers of hard, basaltic rock. At one time she attained an altitude of 16,000 feet before a great explosion or series of explosions carried away her crown and blew 2,000 feet from her top. Thus beheaded, the volcano left behind a large crater surrounded by a jagged rim.
Measuring almost two miles across, this great cavity was later filled by two smaller cinder cones. Successive eruptions added to their height until they formed a low, rounded dome which now constitutes the main summit.
This summit rises only about 400 feet above the rim of the old crater that straddles a low, rounded dome. Stealthy, curvaceous and not easily identifiable as the Old Girl’s highest point, the main summit is a relatively inconspicuous creature. In fact, so broad is the Mountain’s crown that from no point at its immediate base is the central summit visible. The higher parts of the old crater rim rise to within a few hundred feet of the level of the summit and stand out boldly as separate peaks that mask and seem to overshadow the central dome. Especially prominent are Point Success (14,150 feet) on the southwest side, and Liberty Cap (14,112 feet) on the northwest side.
Crest and Crown
Once thought the highest point in the
The mound is situated at the point where the rims of the two summit craters touch, and represents the only permanent snow mass on these rims. The internal heat of the volcano keeps these rock-crowned ridges bare of snow the better part of the year. However, the heat is intense enough to seam the crater edges with steam jets – enough to make ridges and craters dazzle and dance like the luminous stained-glass latticework of an immense alpine cathedral.
The most prominent landmark in western
True,
Seen from these great distances, in fact, the mountain creates the illusion, in the words of naturalist John Muir, of being “just back of a string of woods only a mile or two in breadth.” Muir isn’t alone is his opinion.
The truth is that Mount Rainier’s “overwhelming presence” often obscures the wonders of the park’s encircling forest. This includes the musty, rich scent of living trees and rich, red soil that perfumes the air and the soothing, sometimes deafening crash of countless waterfalls.
The contrasts are striking as motorists first entering the park pass through thick stands of old growth Douglas fir and other western conifers. Above the timberline, subalpine meadows and fading patches of plant life abound. Higher still there is nothing green, only snow and blue ice, rocks and jagged ridges.
Twenty-seven named glaciers, from frozen snowfields to extensive crevasse-laden ice fields up to six miles long, flank the Mountain on all sides like flying buttresses. Rainier’s glacier system—the largest single peak system in the lower forty-eight states—is the multiple source of rivers that flow through spectacular canyons and valleys before spilling their ice-born waters into Puget Sound and the Columbia River.
Fields, forests, and glaciers aside, how does one get to know the
Mountain beyond her scenery? As any
Rainieraholic can tell you, knowing the Old Girl intimately means getting
close. No amount of print, maps, videos
or photos can replace a personal visit to
To understand the ever-changing Mountain means getting out of your car, tramping her trails, learning her voice and listening to her story. The Old Girl speaks like no other. Especially on the trail.
"O, what a Paradise!"
The year was 1885. Virinda Longmire*, wife of the Mountain's first white setter, rode a horse to the high meadow and excalimed, "O, what a paradise!" The name stuck. And for good reason.
Superlatives trip off the tongue when it comes to Paradise, the most popular stop at Mount Rainier National Park, and a family favorite. A 5,400-foot high
alpine meadow that overlooks the Nisqually Glacier, Paradise—known
to the Nisqually Indians as Saghalie Illahe, “the land of peace”--sits on a
“flying saucer” visitor’s center stuck in a 1960s architectural time warp.
"Extravagently beautiful"
Never mind the center, which was replaced in 2008. (The old JVC was so ugly, it kinda grew on me after awhile. I miss it.) The luscious landscape it elbows may boast more vitality and vivacity than any mountain should. Its meadows and wildflowers are world-renowned. The stuff of legends. Naturalist John Muir called the Paradise valley, "The most extravagently beautiful of all the alpine gardens I ever beheld in all my mountain-top wanderings."
You betcha.
Between October and May up to thirty feet of snow smothers these stunning meadows that recline on Rainier's southern hip. The snow pack often remains until mid-July. (We typically visit the park in early of mid-June to avoid the throngs and masses jamming Paradise - which is why nearly all of our pictures from Paradise feature lots and lots of snow.) Come June the snow begins to melt, escaping into the Paradise River which joins the Nisqually River, which expires in Puget Sound and then the Pacific Ocean. As small rocky islands begin to emerge from their refrigerated slumber, shady nooks emerge beneath subalpine firs. When the snow retreats further, the meadows emerge and with them, the world-renowned Paradise flower fields.
The Paradise flower fields erupt in a glorious bouquet of Renoir pastels for a flew fleeting weeks each summer. Creamy w
hite dollops of avalanche lillies race petite yellow glacier lillies, chasing the snow uphill. Waxy-yellow petals of Suksdor's buttercup line thawing rivulets. Woolf tufts of Indian paintbrush drip scarlet, magenta and white among the furry, dew-silvered leaves of Western anemones. Drooping spikes of tightly rolled, gray-green leaves thrust up here and there, quickly unfurling into the huge, pleated skirts of giant hellebore. Suds of soapy-white marsh marigolds bathe wetter realms. Round clusters of Sitka Valerian bivouac near pink bistorts, red-spotted monkey flowers and purple lupine.
These vast carpets of floral color brush an iridescent canvas, but the wildflower meadows are as delicate as dazzling. Indeed, meadow stomping is about the worst crime you can commit in the park short of murder. Every summer the meadows host an eight-week run of rainbow blooms. Every summer some two million+ pairs of heels threaten to grind them into dust. NOTE: Stay on the trails. Every summer and as many Septembers as possible we return to Mount Rainier and Paradise. We suck in huge chunks of conifer-crisped air, dazzle at achngly blue skies, gaze at the Old Girl and enjoy some of the finest, most scenic hikes in the Northwest. We never grow tired of "our" Mountain.
In Lummi Indian legend, Mount Rainier deserted her husband, Mount Baker, and took all the choicest fruits and flowers with her. On summer afternoons when the Chinook winds flutter alpine frocks and frolic over blushing swells of mountain heather, lavendar asters, shaggy white anemones, and the flaming headsof Indian paintbrush, you can't help but feel the legend is true. And that Virinda was right.
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[1] Sources seem to differ on which Longmire wife actually named Paradise. Some indicate it was Mrs. James (Virinda) Longmire; others indicate it was Mrs. Elcaine (Martha) Longmire, wife of James’ son.
