The Skyline Trail at Mt Rainier

Starting out earlier than my eyes wanted to open, I filled my pack with food, snacks, water, extra layers of clothes, and rain gear. We wanted to get to Paradise, the highest lodge on the mountain while there was still a parking place that mid-August morning. Hiking the Skyline trail through alpine wildflower meadows was something I had dreamed of for several years. I’d seen photographs of the mountain with fields of Lupines and Indian Paintbrush in the foreground, and I longed to experience those lush meadows myself.

This was not one of those blue sky mornings where everything seems fresh and clear, invigorating heart and spirit. Instead, clouds hung in close and a light rain fell from the sky.  In many ways, the rain was a relief, a break from the dense, smoky air back at home. Breathing was easy. The clean, moist, air felt good in my lungs. A raincoat would help keep me dry and warm.

Starting up the trail from the parking lot towards the lodge I found my first flowers of the day. Fields of lavender and pink colored Cascade Asters, Aster ledophllus, spread up the slope towards the left. On the right, a row of Alpine Fireweed lined the path, each pink petal heavy with rain droplets. Ahead, I found Lupine leaves bejeweled with more water droplets.

Almost to the lodge, Rob remembered that he had forgotten something in the car, so I went inside and looked around the large rustic building. When I visited this place as a kid, there was a different building with very large windows looking up the slope at large snow patches. I learned that the big building had been hard to heat and was needing repair, so they built this beautiful new building.

I asked a lady ranger at the information desk about which trail had the most wildflowers blooming this day. She recommended the Skyline Trail, the one I had already been dreaming about. There were still flowers blooming there she said but the hot summer had caused many of them to bloom early and finish quickly so it would have been better if we had been there a couple weeks earlier.

That didn’t discourage me any more than the rainy weather. I knew we would still see some flowers even if we couldn’t see the mountain through the rain. I was ready to hike the beautiful 5.3-mile trail, with a 1700 foot elevation gain, the highest hiking trail with easy road access on the mountain. (Here is a Link to National Park Service trail map.)

Just out the door of the lodge and looking left up against the mountain, the first thing you see is a wide staircase, the entryway to the Skyline Trail. Inscribed on the steeps is John Muir’s 1889 impression of this area of the Mt. Rainier. “... the most luxuriant and the most extravagantly beautiful of all the alpine gardens I ever beheld in all my mountain-top wanderings.” 

From here the trail is wide and paved, but it heads pretty much straight up the hillside. Right and left of the trail foliage grows rich green. A steady stream of people passed us heading back to the lodge.

Some people passed us heading up the hill at a much faster pace. My desire to find all the wildflowers blooming that day, coupled with my short legs, kept me moving slower than many but didn’t stop me from progressing up the mountain.

We met up with a Chinese speaking mother and her young son. They were looking at a printed booklet of wildflowers trying to discover what the blue ones were and say their name. They quickly learned how to pronounce Lupine.  Then I pointed out the deer grazing over near the bushes.. Their big grins told me thank you and displayed their delight to view a wild animal so closely.

At some point, the paved path turned into dirt and rocks. This is when the scenery started getting more interesting. Broader views of peak and valley inspired us to keep going. The alpine terrain captivated our every turn.

Along the trail a creek ran down hill so steeply that I wondered how close to vertical a creek has to be before it becomes a waterfall.

Up ahead we could see the trail winding on and on. At one notable place, it seems to go up and around a mini-peak. The cluster of spruce there make the peak appear to be taller than it really is, but the the trail is still quite steep. My legs protested about the high, uneven steps. Often I had to stop to take in the views, or was it that I needed to catch my breath? 

I was hoping we would see Marmots. I remembered them fondly from past trips to high elevations in the Olympic National Park. The Marmots love to graze on summer flowers and leaves in alpine meadows. They made little chirping sounds as they ran from mound to mound. They are bigger than a cat and quite chunky; a bit like a beaver with a fluffy, round tail. 

We came upon a couple Marmots munching Lupines right beside the trail. I did all I could to not disturb them as I slowly and lightly passed by on the far side of the trail, taking pictures with my zoom lens as I went by. 

I heard from other hikers that in past years people would feed the Marmots which turned them into begging pests that would follow people. Better signs and education are training the new generation to let the wild animals eat their native foods only, as it is much better for their health. Watching these wild creatures calmly munch their “mountain salad” reminded me of how amazing animals are and how special it is that we can see them and not just pictures of them.

After about 1.5 miles of hiking up, we found the Glacier Vista Viewpoint, where you can see the Nisqually Glacier coming down off the mountain. You can see where the snow and ice have cut deep into the earth as it slowly moves downhill. It pulls along acres of gravel with it. The Nisqually River rushes out from under its toe heading 78 miles toward the Puget Sound and the tidal mudflats of the Nisqually National Wildlife Refuge.

Unlike the river, we were headed uphill and not down. From this point on, the trail got more narrow and rough. Sitting down to rest on some rocks, we decided to munch on a nutbar to give us a bit more energy for the climb. We watched little rodents scurry around searching for little seeds or dropped crumbs from careless hikers. At first, I thought they were Chipmunks, the fattest Chipmunks I had ever seen. Later I learned that they were really Golden-Mantled Ground Squirrels. They don’t have stripes on their face which distinguishes them from their slightly smaller friends, the Chipmunks.

With my focus on the Ground Squirrels, I wasn’t paying much attention to the stream of people passing by on the trail. Imagine my surprise when I heard a familiar voice call out, “Hello, Miss Barbara!” It was one of my daughter’s friends. She was with her community college friends out on a group hike. They continued on past us and in a few minutes we gathered our things and were back on the trail too.

Sometime after this, rain started to fall. Cloudy mist swooped down the slopes settling in around us. I was certainly glad for the raincoat I was wearing. As we went higher it got more chilly and visibility continued to decrease. The trail got more rough and narrow.

Minutes later, our friend and her trailmates passed us going down the hill. They were not well prepared for the stronger wind and cold up ahead. They asked us if we were going to walk the whole loop and were surprised when we said, "Yes!" They proceed on their way, downhill, and we headed up, into the wind.

When we finally reached Panorama Point, we were very cold, and I started seriously considering turning back. This is a rocky point where you are supposed to be able to see Mt. Rainier right in front of you. But we could only see swirling fog and the ground a few feet in front of us. Built into the rock we found the only outhouse on the trail. It appeared to have been constructed in the style of the CCC long ago. We waited our turn huddling in a corner to try to stay out of the worst wind. Inside was a dry roomy space, lined with pine boards and featuring a composting toilet. There was enough room for both of us to put on the additional clothing layers we had carried in our bags. What a relief to be warmer. I was now wearing rain pants and another layer of thermal wear. (You can follow this link to see what the mountain is supposed to look like at Panorama Point.)

Out in the swirling mist we trudged on, up the rock steps, higher and higher. I really couldn’t see more than just what was in front of me, and that not very well, because now my glasses were rain splattered and fogged over. I had wiped them dry in the bathroom, but that didn’t last long once I was outside again. I tried the snorkeler's trick for foggy lenses, rubbing around a little spit, but it helped only a short while. Eyes to the ground, watching my step, I spotted the tiniest Lupine I have ever seen. The plants were only an inch tall and the flower clusters were about the size of my husband's thumbnail.

I admire these tenacious little plants that find cracks in the rocks to plant their roots, then hold on strong even through bad storms, blooming beauty where few others dare to hike. Small, but beautiful and strong, my example for life.

Another tiny alpine flower I found at this high elevation was Spreading Phlox, phlox diffusa. Even though it looks similar to Showy Phlox phlox speciosa, a variety that blooms on the hills near my house in late February, it is not the same species.  Up at high elevation, Spreading Phlox has to wait for things to warm up before it can bloom.

We walked up and down hills and ridges and around rocky points taking just one step at a time.  Finally, I felt like the most challenging part of the hike was over, and the scenery started changing again. We left the bare rocky areas and headed into a meadow of sorts with a stream running through it.  Thick fog made me feel like I had discovered a secret garden, and Rob and I were the only ones there to see it.  I could hear the little stream laugh and gurgle along over the sound of the wind.

Clumps of bright pink Lewis’ Monkey Flowers lined the little stream. Green moss reached out from the banks into the water. Hearing the stream bubble on its way, I wanted to sing with it. It gave me joy to see it.  I remembered the song from my childhood.

“Give said the little stream. Give, oh give. Give, oh give.

Give said the little stream as it hurried down the hill.

I'm small I know, but where ever I go, give, oh give, give, oh give.

I'm small I know, but where ever I go, the hills grow greener still."

Like a flower girl spreading petals at a wedding, the pink-colored Monkey Flowers, gave up their aging petals into the stream to spread beauty and cheer as they floated along. Like the flowers, I hope that what I leave behind will be beautiful.

Encouraged that we were over half way along the trail and no longer walking uphill, I kept on moving. My hiking poles had helped me up steep steps and now they would help me as I began to head downhill, back to the lodge and parking lot.

A little ways ahead we crossed a wooden bridge over another rushing steam. This time the banks were lined with white-colored flowers on bushy plants. I had found a flower I had never seen before and could not identify. Back at home, searching through my guidebooks, I learned that these flowers were actually related to Fireweed, Yellow Willowherb Epilobium Leutum. 

It wasn’t long after that we broke out of the fog. We saw more Marmots munching plants on an earthen shelf above the trail. The Marmots seemed to stare at us as we walked by.

Then we started seeing more wildflowers. This side of the trail loop was not as busy. Either most people were already done hiking for the day, or they had turned back because of the chilly weather. For me, this was the best part of the trail. We were finding the wildflowers.

Next to patches of snow, lingering long into summer, I found gardens planted by God. Pasque flower, Anemone occidentalis, often just called Anemone, had just come up and were blooming. They flower right after the snow is gone. 

Across the path, in areas long free of snow, many clusters of the Anemone seed heads could be seen.  The Anemone's nickname, Old Man on the Mountain, has stuck to this day and I can see why, for that is how these seed heads look. Each one gives the impression of someone with aging, windswept hair, some heads messier than others and worth a good laugh. Pasque flower might be the most common flower on the trail.  In some places there were whole fields of these sparkling with raindrops.  (Follow this link to see all the stages of the Pasque Flower near Mt. Rainier.)

Mats of Pink Mountain Heather Phyllococe empetriformis bloomed with many pink bells. The shrubs are evergreen and resemble Crowberry. A whole meadow of these flowers give off a sweet scent that attracts Bumblebees.

The next bend in the trail would find us winding through clusters of color. Beautiful Magenta Indian Paintbrush, Castilleja parviflora var. oreopola, is like a paintbrush dipped in magenta paint, differing from ones at lower elevations dipped in scarlet and orange.x

Standing tall, a white ball on a slender stem, American Bistort, Polygonum bistortoides, is common in the meadows. Polygonum means “Many Knees,” I’m guessing that refers to the numerous joints on the stems.

Partridge Foot flowers Luetkea pectinata sit close to the ground with fern-like foliage.  The leaflets divide into sets of three that resemble the wild Partridge bird's feet.

Many other flowers lined the Skyline trail this day.  Here are photos of a few of them.

Cusucks Veronica or Speedwell Veronica cusickii 

Sub-Alpine Lupine Lupinus arcticus  

Mountain Daisy Erigeron peregrinus, not to be confused with the Cascade Aster.

As we descended lower the flowers changed.  Slopes rose up to the right of the trail covered with Cascade Asters Eucephalus ledophyllus, Cornlily Flowers Veratrum californicum, and Scarlet Indian Paintbrush Castillieja minata.  We left the Magenta Paintbrush up at higher elevations.  

The temperature was going up and we progressed downhill. I had to stop and removed some of the layers of clothing that had been necessary up at the alpine heights.  And not only that, the sun came out and we could see the sky again.   Ahead of us, I could hear water again, a stream with a waterfall.  Looking up the creek, we saw a Marmot sunning himself on a large rock.  Possibly due to the noise of the water, he didn't seem to be disturbed by our presence.

By this beautiful stream, Yellow Willowherb Epilobium leutum, and Columbine Aquilegia formosa, thrived on the crystal clear water and sunshine. Columbine is a common flower that grows at many elevations all over the Pacific Northwest. Aquilegia means water legs and formosa is the old name for the country of Japan.

Light played on the lingering snow of the rugged Tatoush Range as we drew nearer to the end of our hike.  Pinks and blues color the snow patches.  The greens of the lush meadows draw my eyes.  If only I could stay here.  I long to live here. I feel so much peace in this space.  I remember that summer only lasts a couple months, after that comes long winter months when these slopes are not friendly.

I think that heaven is the place where summer never ends. With all my heart I hope that there is a meadow like this in heaven for me, where I can live among the mountain flowers year round.  Where I can learn more about them from the Creator.

We had hiked the whole loop.  Adverse weather conditions did not stop us, nor did my physical abilities. Walking three miles daily at home made me strong enough to hike this strenuous mountain trail at high elevations.  Beauty and grandeur, sunshine and storm mixed together into a memorable day.  Even looking at the pictures months later give me a thrill and call out to me to come hike again the beautiful Skyline Trail at Paradise, Mt. Rainier, Washington.  Maybe next time the skies will be blue and will will see the mountain too.