Three weeks into the Pacific Northwest chapter of this thing called life, the story got better. Dramatically better. I visited Mount Rainier on Saturday. The mountain is beautiful from afar. It’s the kind of mountain that just dares you to approach it. This thing is so big, it intimidates from 100 miles away. I kid you not. My Seattle area digs sit that far from Rainier’s closest National Park entrance.
The ride is one I’ll never forget. I traversed Highway 165 just to loosen up the legs and remember what it feels like to ascend over any serious distance. Much of my riding in and around Seattle has featured rollers and the occasional steep — but short — climbs. Highway 165 won’t get you close to the giant 14,400-foot peak, but it will give you amazing views. Here’s one.
On the ascent above Wilkerson, I also learned that gravel can pass for a highway designation (if I’m not mistaken). I had planned to climb Highway 165 all the way to Lake Mowich,but the rocks and dust wouldn’t relent. Passing off-road enthusiasts in Jeeps, pickups and campers further added to the Roubaix-esque inhalants. I ate a good portion of dust for lunch as clouds billowed from the backs and sides of vehicles. Here’s the view before one flew by.
Sensing that my first date with Rainier may be in jeopardy, I descended from the dirt and hit the winding Carbon River Road to the forest station. Nothing but greenery, near-empty pavement and gentle breezes greeted me. Campers like this area, thanks to the river’s edge. Tents and hikers could be seen in all directions. Nothing like Yosemite, but most likely crowded by Washington State standards. From there, I retraced my route back to Enumclaw, a small slice of Americana, with — you guessed it — a front porch view of Rainier. The best decision of the day was to gulp down a Venti Latte and drive 40 miles down Highway 410 toward the big mountain. Once you reach the National Park you are at once awed and overwhelmed. The views alone are difficult to describe. You must see to appreciate. An iPhone camera cannot put the scenery into context. The jaw drops. The eyes widen. The skin tingles. People pull to the side of the most dangerous sections of roadway to capture the views digitally. Although it was 5:30 p.m., I knew I had to explore more on two wheels. I drove through the National Park entrance off Highway 410 and paid my $15 use fee (good for 7 days). The ranger said the magic words: 15 miles to the highest section of paved road at 6,500 feet: Sunrise Point. We were at 3,500 feet. Perfect. Plenty of daylight. As I neared the end of the climb, I looked over my shoulder and saw this.
Imagine the image (shot with iPhone using Pano app) enlarged about 1,000 times. That’s how things look here in real life. The sky is full. No, make that overflowing. You can’t help but feel amazed, inspired and grateful — simultaneously. The climb is gentle. No 10% inclines here. Just a steady diet of approximately 4% to the occasional 7%. Quite friendly, if you ask me. As you go higher, you notice unmelted snow. You see the sun bathe towering Douglas Firs in the most complementary way. Then it dawns on you. You’re in cycling’s equivalent of heaven. This is easily among the Top 3 days on a bike I’ve ever had over the course of tens of thousands of miles and two decades or riding. Hands down. Can’t wait to do it again. I feel the bike mojo coming back in a way never imagined. Best wishes to the RAMROD riders this week. You’ve got stories to be told and memories to be made.
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I don’t think there is anything to match the Cascades in late July, early August. Spectacular. I’m having flashbacks to my years of backpacking in that area. Jealous.
You need to check out 4th of July pass. Named that because it typically opens on or near the 4th. Also head up to Mount Baker if you get a chance. and…well there is so much…
Tim, I agree all the way. This place is absolutely alive with beauty. If it was this sunny year-round, there would be 10 million people in the metro area, I’m convinced. Thanks for reading. Best to you in the ATX. BC