Since summer has picked up here I’ve upped my training quite a bit in preparation for Wonderland Attempt 2.0. If you have been following my blog, you might remember my spectacular Wonderland DNF in 2020 due to a cougar encounter. Anyway, I completed (and CRUSHED), the volcanic Loowit Trail with a friend on the Fourth of July and had our plans set for Wonderland July 29-August 1.
I thought we’d planned better this time. I really did. We divided food and other supplies into portions for each day, planned an itinerary and a camping spot to be able to do the first 30 miles in one day and then the final 60 (ish) in one push. The only problem was, all the campground slots were already filled (except the 30% remaining first-come first-served) when we finalized our dates back in April. I thought, no problem. There are three front-country campgrounds at Mount Rainier National Park, so three options to choose from. We also were planning on arriving on a Thursday afternoon. The worrywart in the back of my head piped up there might be a problem, but I told her to shut up as there usually never is.
Dear reader, there was a problem. We drove around the park for three hours looking for camping but everywhere was full. Dejected and exhausted, we were forced to make a hard decision–look for lodging elsewhere that night or return home. We ended up returning home, and it probably is good my friend was driving or I might’ve done something stupid.
We strategized about ways to save our weekend, and I commented that I felt like a “sack of potatoes” after all the carb loading and not being able to do our big run. My friend was tired, but I woke up the next morning at 5am without even setting an alarm and feeling like I needed a good suffer-fest. And suffer-fest, I got.
I’d been checking out the FKT website and had noticed this route, which is a 26-mile trail/traverse through the Alpine Lakes Wilderness. As of today, there are no women listed on the site and although I’m not too interested in setting records I thought it might be fun to go for one or two. I joked that, “I might go for the FKT. If I don’t die, I’ll get it.” Let’s just say that remark is no longer funny. Having checked out the route beforehand and watched a YouTube video of some hikers’ experience, I felt adequately prepared and downloaded the gpx track from the FKT website to my watch and saved a screenshot of the route description to my phone. My pack was already prepared for the Wonderland hike with my waist light, emergency blanket, first-aid kit, snacks, rain jacket, water filter, and other essentials. I did forget to grab the extra food I’d been planning to add at the beginning of the run, which I didn’t even notice at the time.
I started the run feeling tired and settled for walk-jogging at an easy pace, knowing I had at least 8000 feet of climbing ahead of me. I was still optimistic when I hit the first few lakes, but lost about half an hour of time wandering around when the trail disappeared. I finally found my intuition had been right in taking me where it looked like the trail just completely vanished, but there was just a tree blocking the path. I instead tried out a boulder field for awhile before realizing that was definitely not the right way to go.
The route was more or less clear until I reached a large boulder/talus field. My watch told me I was right on track and I knew I had to head for Iron Cap Peak, but due to my slow moving I was unable to tell if I was headed the right way and kept second-guessing myself on which peak was Iron Cap. I considered turning around, but that would crossing two mid-sized boulder fields and I assumed the trail would be much easier from the peak judging from the description (the website states “Roughly follow the tracks and with some light bushwhacking while descending you end up just under Iron Cap from where you can easily continue to Tank Lakes and finish the loop.” I kept that phrase in my mind, but it became obvious that my definition of “light bushwhacking” and the author’s differ by quite a bit. It’s that, and I kept losing the trail due to following cairns that were not meant for me. (I have no idea where they were headed, but they seemed to be headed nowhere). I kept ending up on a cliffside or steep brushy slope and had a few falls that could have been much worse but still were not ideal. My running pants completely split down the backside, and my legs were beginning to give out since I hadn’t had enough to eat and the stress of getting lost and nearly falling several times was wearing me down.
I’d been communicating with my friend via Garmin Inreach, and I let her know I was okay but would have to spend the night. I curled up under some young fir trees and put on my rain jacket, then tucked my emergency blanket under my head, shoulders, and feet to try to keep a taut barrier from the mosquitoes. Unfortunately, it did not work. They kept swarming and finding a way in. They were like a dense cloud, and I would breathe them in and cough. I tried using my bug spray, but it was not enough to deter the great mosquito army. I settled in for a miserable night. I finally figured out (a little too late) that I could wear my rain jacket and then use my windbreaker like a bug net to shield my face. That did work, but my eyes and throat had already begun to swell.
Morning could not come fast enough, and I set off to find the trail before 5am. I continued with the “light bushwhacking” for several hours until it seemed like I was so close to the trail but couldn’t find it. I felt so weak and totally spent, I laid down on a rock and put the emergency blanket over me to ward off the mosquitoes. I texted my friend I was still looking for the trail and not doing well. I found a Rice Krispies treat in my pack I’d overlooked the day before and filtered a little water. Hooray!
I did find the trail finally, and the next section up to Tank Lakes was much easier comparably. It was uphill, but easy uphill with a friendly grade. My spirits were light. I said hello to a marmot. My friend texted me that she was sending SAR to get me. I told her not to do that! I was doing okay. I felt confident the worst was behind me.
There were a few more confusing cairns near Tank Lanks and seemingly multiple boot paths to get down the talus field to the Necklace Valley trail, but nothing as difficult as what I’d already been through. I descended slowly and was delighted to find the Necklace Valley trail and the old Necklace Cabin waiting below. This is where I found the first people I’d seen since early the morning before. I apologized about my pants and asked if they might have an extra granola bar, then I started crying (but no tears would come since I was so dehydrated). The woman tried to fix my pants with tape, but that didn’t work so her partner gave me an old pair of shorts to cover up with. They gave me an apple, a Clif bar, and some trail mix that I lined the pockets of the shorts with. I certainly looked like a hot mess jogging down the trail, with huge men’s shorts over my pants, hair wild and loose after my hair tie got broken and lost, and eyes swollen almost shut from mosquitoes. I looked like a wild mountain woman!
It was about eight miles from Necklace Valley down to my car, and I took the trail slowly, walking on all the technical sections and slowly jogging the rest. I finally made it out by 3pm and it was the happiest I’d ever been to see my car! In hindsight, I think I did almost everything right. I did forget to pack additional food, but that was an oversight as I thought it made it into the pack but didn’t. The one thing on my list to do now is to upgrade to an emergency bivvy and throw that useless emergency blanket in the trash. I certainly hope I never have to spend an unexpected night in the forest again, though.
So happy to be at home safe, showered, and some pizza in my belly.
x
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