We have been waiting for the snow to melt, scouring trip reports weekly, so that we could enjoy this hike. Saturdays are not our usual hike days, but Sunday obligations made it a necessity this week, and with the weather conditions playing along nicely, away we went!
TBGuide after the fact.
The above photo was taken on the way out instead of the way in. The reasons for this were ternary. Primary fact: Locating the exact trailhead was a touch sketchy because the WTA directions were a bit askew. (The trailhead is 9.8 miles from the turn-off onto FR73 with parking right at the sign for Eleanor Creek. There is no need to factor in FR7360 whatsoever. You’re welcome!) There were only two other cars in the small parking area, one belonging to a skirted and bandanna’d gal who approached us with a look of bafflement asking if we knew where the trail to Grand Park was because the WTA directions weren’t right (!) We said we were pretty sure we were in the right place, and she set off happily with one small frown in our direction when we doused ourselves with DEET.
Binary fact: TBG’s backpack had leaked a bit in the back of the car, getting a few things soggy. Nothing overly much but enough to cause us some pre-hike frustrations. Ternary fact: TBG thought this sign was stupid and unhelpful, being devoid of mileage indicators, and felt it wasn’t worthy of a photo. While I agreed, I pleaded my need-it-for-the-blog case on the way out.
First things first.
Before we could get to what we came for, we had to do some work with a rolling climb through quintessential northwest forest for roughly a mile and a half. There were indeed hordes of skeeters that thankfully were repelled by the repellent.
Crystal-clear Eleanor Creek.
There was one very boggy section on the way up, and one of us may have lost her balance and sunk her foot into the pudding.
This is on the shore of Lake Eleanor, photos of which I could’ve sworn we took, but apparently not. It was pretty, but nothing compared to what was about to happen.
First glimpse.
Just past the lake, the first meadow and view of The Mountain appears. The trip reports say that bears are often espied in these meadows, and I kept my head on a hopeful swivel, but no such luck.
Grand Park
After traversing “lesser” meadows for maybe a mile or so, we reached the namesake, the miles-long expansive alpine meadow — the largest of the park — at the foot of Rainier’s north face.
Who could ask for more?
It’s not the wildfloweriest meadow on Rainier but the magenta paintbrushes sure were putting on their show. It was kind of magical to be able to walk into that view for miles.
A sense-makin’ sign at last!
This is at the meadow’s north terminus, and shortly before reaching this point, we again met up with Nature Gal, for whom we took a photo and offered DEET when she said her natural skeeter lotion was not providing her any protection whatsoever, and she was being eaten alive. She kindly declined our offer, and I admired her dedication despite the huge welts on her legs.
As the sign indicates, this meadow can be reached from other trails in the park. We decided to try for another 1.6 miles to Fire Creek Camp. A sign nailed to a tree a few paces in warned us that a bridge was out up ahead, making for a hazardous crossing. We figured when we got to something hazardous, we’d turn back.
Jungly!
The flora and view changed dramatically in this section, but what have I told you about perseverance?
This’ll do.
The path continued around to the right of this photo, but this seemed like a darn fine place to pause for lunch. What looks like a road in this picture is actually roaring glacial run-off, the muted sound of which was the only thing we could hear during our trail picnic.
Two Tahoma Trekkers
Leaking backpacks, mosquito gangs, and boot-sucking bogs couldn’t even put a dent in the serene joy of this hike. Grand is too small a word for it.