A Series of Slightly Misfortunate Events

Gary and I had planned out our hiking trip in advance and had hoped to hike up to Dick Creek or possibly, since the trail had a slow and steady incline, up to Mystic Camp which is nestled on Mystic Lake. It is prime alpine wildflower season and I was eager to catch a glimpse of flower blooms during our hike. Little did I realize, until too late, that only a reservation for a particular backcountry campsite guaranteed your entrance to the park for an overnight. 40% of permits are held on a first-come-first-serve basis while the other 60% are reservations. Because we ended up arriving late we missed out on our favored campsites. The park rangers suggested we camp at Cataract Valley telling us that there were a few spaces open there. They said it was a pleasant hike with opportunities to take a day hike, after dropping off our packs, to Carbon Glacier.
We agreed and were on our way:

This was the first glimpse of Mount Rainier that we had during our hike. We saw plenty of the mountain on our drive over. The first leg of the journey was pretty crowded and we gave way on the trail many times to let other groups by as they traveled back to Ipsut Creek Campground.

This little bridge began the trail to Cataract Valley campsite. Such a pretty little thing - it gave us no indication of the impending doom. Why oh why didn't we look at the topo map?

The view as I trudged up 1.6 miles of steep incline, liberally laced with switchbacks, was beautiful but at this point in time I was having a major hissy-fit. My plans had been turned upside down and this climb just never seemed to stop. Poor Gary bore the brunt of it with me hissing insults and threats every time he opened his mouth or tried to help. Not a proud moment for me at all.

Finally reaching Cataract Valley campground I set up our dinner things while Gary filtered water from the nearby stream. After a good meal my temper tantrum passed. We played cards for a little while then went to bed. Interestingly enough there were two composting toilets at the site. They were completely open to the air and you were visible doing your business to anyone who walked up the little path. Gary and I took turns standing sentry. This was one time when you just had to forgo the book.

A word about camping food: We decided to try a few things out on this trip since we were only camping for one night. I picked up a couple of pre-packaged Indian meals which were hiker friendly. Review? Very good! Surprisingly very good. Good spices, good taste, good transportability, and fairly low weight. Thumbs up!

Ingredients: water, tomatoes, lentils, red beans, onions, cream, salt, butter, sunflower oil, ginger, chili, and cumin. Not too shabby!

We got up at about 7:00 the next morning and after a quick meal of oatmeal cooked with dried cranberries and walnuts we were ready to hit the trail. The hike down was much more relaxed. I even took a photo or two as we went. This one gives great perspective.

*please note the small washed-out Gary in the bottom left corner*

We had to cross a 200 foot suspension bridge over rushing glacial melt in order to hike the trail that led to the viewpoint. Only one person was allowed to cross at a time and a sign strongly warned us not to swing or jump on the bridge.

A view of the glacier from the suspension bridge.

A panoramic photo of Carbon Glacier from Glacier Viewpoint. The moment was only slightly spoiled by the scattering of used toilet paper left on the way up the trail by careless and, dare I say, jerky sightseers. (Click to enlarge image)

We took our time walking back to Isput Creek Campground from the glacier partly because the day was beautiful and partly because my Asolo boots had started to give me some serious problems. Frequent stops and a foot massage from Gary helped a little bit but I limped into the campground nonetheless.

We took a couple of minutes of rest just before existing the trail and to sit back and enjoy the peace and quiet.

And this, dear friends, is what happens to bad boots. No amount of begging and pleading would make up for the perambulatory torture that took place for the last 2+ miles of an otherwise pleasant hike.