Backpacking in Mount Rainier National Park

I am re-emerging yet again from a wild place. Deep in the old-growth forests, meadows, and alpine wonderland of Mount Rainier National Park, I crossed creeks, twirled among wildflowers, and cozied into my tent at night. It was a magical and peaceful weekend.

With my beloved partner visiting me in my home place of Portland, Oregon, we thought it fitting to spend a weekend backpacking. Ironically we met hiking along the Pacific Crest Trail, but we didn’t walk the trail together. This was our first backpacking trip together and it was incredible!

We arrived at our trailhead at 7 pm on a Friday. We parked my dad’s fat truck in a small parking lot, scribbled a note detailing our route and an emergency cell number, and left it on the dash. We filled our two smart water bottles each into our packs, I tossed a ponytail into my hair, and, smiling, we began our journey.

It felt like the forest swallowed us instantly, the giant old-growth trees creating a utopia of lush green. These trees have been alive for hundreds of years; their bark is gnarled and thick; their fallen needles turned orange, now meld into the forest floor.

In those first few miles, we hiked by swift-moving streams and rivers, the water incredibly clear. We crossed bridges made of fallen trees and huffed up switchbacks. The sky blazed orange and pink before we made it to our first campsite at dusk. We set up our tent and ate our baguette sandwiches by the light of our headlamps.

We awoke to rain and had forgotten rainjackets but thankfully, the sky stayed clear most of the day while we hiked high up into the alpine biome. We hiked all day and were humbled by 6,000 feet of elevation. We stopped to take a few photos of wild goats and delicate flowers, and we took off our packs a few times to stretch or pee, but the wind at over 6,000 feet of elevation was quite chilling, so we kept a steady pace.

The higher we climbed, the more prominent Mount Rainier's glaciers became. Though the mountain's 14,408-foot peak stayed shrouded in clouds, we marveled at the immense waterfalls pouring out of the glaciers. It was awe-inspiring. Ominous.

In the afternoon, we dipped back into thick forests. Whenever I saw a cool mushroom, I said, “Hey look at that cool mushroom!” The same went for particularly interesting trees, dangling moss resembling lettuce, and butterflies. We saw a marmot, chipmunks, and about a dozen other hikers. One of those other hikers was a ranger. She kindly pointed out that we didn’t have a permit (we had confused a free entry day with not needing a backpacking permit). Allowing for the plan to flow and change, we shortened our day by a few miles (no complaints there) and hitched to a campground, snagging the last available spot.

After 13 miles of grueling elevation we were exhausted. We split lentils mixed with quick-cooked rice. After I picked the chocolate out of our trail mix for dessert. While we ate, I watched kids take turns balancing and bouncing on a fallen tree. So sweet and pure; it reminded me of my childhood.

In the middle of the night, it rained again. I yanked a shoelace free from my left shoe and used it to pull the rainfly off the tent. It helped a little.

Our last morning was a slow one. We let ourselves wake bit by bit. We wrapped up our sleeping bags, inflatable pillows, and our unread books with care. We grabbed two short hitches from kind travelers and then popped back on the trail for our final nine miles.

Cruising uphill, I pushed myself to move quickly, falling into a flow state of moving my legs, swinging my trekking poles forward, exhaling. We hiked three miles uphill in just over an hour. By the time we broke the tree line, the sun shone down on us and we soaked up views of lakes, meadows and craggy mountainsides.

As we wove our way through our final miles, Danny prompted a period of reflection and sharing of our takeaways from this weekend (boy, I adore him). To this I can say that my intention for the weekend was peace and presence. I wanted to shed my anxieties and center gratitude for my body, my partner, and this abundant planet. I am grateful that being in nature is a sacred space to release and embody my wild, free sense of self.

Alongside this, I love that I had this quality time with Danny. It was sweet to honor each other in little ways, with me packing less to try his 'ultralight' style of hiking and with him taking more pauses for rest per my request. We laughed and held space for total silliness and had deep chats like whether or not there is purpose in the universe (him on the side of universal indifference, I believing in some higher power).

I believe in a love that weaves through me, bleeds into the trees as I hug them, trails into the dirt as I walk, and sings itself into the breeze. And I feel the energy of the trees, the dirt, and the breeze enliven my heart and soul. During our final hitch back to our car and driving back to Portland, my heart swelled with gratitude. Backpacking in Mount Rainier National Park reminded me of my essence: a rewilding child.