Reservations locked in....

Making plans and moving forward. I faxed my wish to hike the Wonderland Trail to the rangers at Mt. Rainier Park. I was somewhat certain I had missed this years opportunity since I was two months late seeking a reservation. Desperate I got creative on my application and did some silly attention getting remarks in the date boxes. Less then 20 minutes later a ranger called me and was puzzled by my application. He told me he could not process it the way it was filled out. By the end of the call, which I was not certain was going the right direction for way too long, I had my wish for 3 nights on the Wonderland Trail.

Arron and I visited the trail in 2004 or so and loved every moment of our hike. Now with additional miracles Julia, the boys and I will be able to visit the trail again this year. Problems do lurk though, Corey is working full time doesn't know if he can get enough time off, Arron is not certain what day college will start, and I got bumped from dive school in May to be rescheduled in September. Julia has still not tested her overnight hiking and will be concerned about this wonderful hike. All and all I am still hopeful this wonderful hike will happen. I have this passion to share this beauty with everyone that will listen. To reminisce about this hike long ago we need to climb into the way-back-bus. Set the clock to 1972, I fell in love with this section of trail and still think of it one of the best hikes of all time. I remember how all of us young scouts were required to bring our back back packs to the church before the hike to be weighed. I remember a lot of focus on packing light. The first day went well, we ate good and slept in the under a single golden tarp in the meadow at Summer Land. On the second day the trail was dusty and I had enjoyed getting dirty. By dinner time my Scout Master told me not to come to dinner until I put on a clean shirt. Imagine my pride, not everyone that gets patted on the back could disappear in a cloud of dust. Being a good scout went to my back pack to get a clean shirt. Unimaginable horror pulsed in my veins as I discovered I had packed so light I did not have any extra shirts in my pack. With dinner on hold it only took me moments to devise a plan.

I ran to the creek and began washing my only t-shirt. Soon the creek turned brown as the dirt left my shirt. To make certain all the dirt was out I pounded it against rocks, rubbed rocks on it and when I felt not a speck of dirt remained I washed it again. Cleaned beyond doubt I held it up for final inspection, to my surprise I noticed a galaxy of holes. Obviously the shirt was of poor quality and could not with stand a good creek side washing. Standing bare chested along the mountain stream the evening chill caught my attention, I noticed the warm rays of sun were disappearing as the sun slipped behind the ridge. Still not concerned I strolled over to the camp fire. I was certain the warm fire would dry my shirt in record time. As the night got colder I became impatient and moved it closer to the fire while I went to eat. When I returned I was surprised to see the shirt was a dirty brown again. Had someone tossed dirt on my clean shirt? No they had not, the fire had warmed and the shirt had dried, the two became one. As I picked my shirt up to inspect it the poor quality hole studded fabric began cracking and crumbled. Having no other shirt I put it on and realized how it smelled very badly of smoke. Proudly I wore it to bed that night. By morning I was wearing an interesting smelly pair of sleeves attached to a collar. This wonderful shirt would last another two days until I was greeted by mom and dad at the end of the trail. Of course they refused to let me into their car, eventually I bartered my way in but only after the shirt was tossed in the trash.