When I first started exploring in the Tacoma, one of my buddies - Ben @m3bassman - mentioned nonchalantly that he had gotten out to camp at least once every calendar month of the year.
That sounded amazing to me, and so for six years I repeatedly failed at actually accomplishing the same feat. Sure, there were some months where I'd get out two or three times, my annual average higher than the one-per-month I was after, but no matter how hard I tried, it seemed like I'd miss a month here or there for some lame reason.
Finally - with a little creative categorizing of a trip that spanned the end/beginning of a month - I succeeded in 2022. And then - to my amazement - I did it again in 2023! Being ultra-competitive with myself, that left me in a bit of a pickle. Would I be able to carry on at all - with any respect for myself - if I didn't carry on this tradition?
For the most part, trips seemed to just "work out" as 2024 ticked by. It seemed like the tradition would continue - as would my self-respect - without any real contortions to my schedule. That is, until October.
With the tenth month of the year fully booked with "normal life," I couldn't believe it when a three-day window - where @mrs.turbodb and I could get away for a few hikes - presented itself. We jumped. Or maybe I jumped and dragged her along. Whichever it was, luckily it was to one of her favorite places. A place that is a major reason she loves living where we do.
We were headed to enjoy Fall at The Mountain, Rainier or Shine!
- - - - -
As we pulled into our first camp site there was no doubt about it: the weather outside was all rain and no shine.
Just before sunset, this was a camp site that I'd been looking forward to showing off to @mrs.turbodb since I'd first visited it a few years earlier. We were both a little shocked - having looked at the weather and thinking it would be clear - to have less than 20 feet of visibility and a steady light rain falling around us.
With no other choice, we set up the tent, putzed around in the cab for a little while, and hoped for the best as we cozied ourselves under the comforters and settled into our books, a couple hours later.
We slept well, but rain continued on-and-off until an hour before sunrise, and as I climbed down the ladder, the magnificent view was... meh. At that point, I was just hoping that the clouds would clear by the time we set off on our first hike. If it didn't, there wasn't much point to going at all, the only attraction being the 15,000-foot main attraction.
Yay! As I was drying the tent and @mrs.turbodb was getting breakfast ready, we finally caught our first glimpse.
After a quick breakfast and stowage of the still-wet tent, we were on our way.
At the trailhead, I unfolded the tent - hoping it'd dry by the time we returned - as sandwiches and chips were prepared. Soon enough we were stretching our legs and winding our way through the woods along the Lake Eleanor trail.
Check out these black mushrooms!
We'd never seen Coral Mushrooms before our recent trip to the Sunshine Coast, so we were surprised to see a lot more of it along this hike.
This little guy was enjoying the wet weather a lot more than we were.
The classic approach (via Sunrise) to Grand Park - a sea of meadows and wildflowers at the base of Mount Rainier - is long and tough, putting it out of reach for most casual day hikers. Even this route - a backdoor approach via Lake Eleanor - was a 10-mile affair, though with an elevation gain of only 1,548 feet, it was nothing to fret about. Plus, we'd be covering most of the Sunrise route the following morning, and saw no reason to conquer the same trail twice!
After exactly one mile, we were staring out across Lake Eleanor, wondering when we'd finally see The Mountain.
Back on the trail, we hiked for another half mile - actually loosing elevation - as we continued our "climb" towards Grand Park. There, we popped out of the woods and into a small meadow where blue skies were starting to appear above us, but our view of The Mountain still left something to be desired.
Out of the way clouds!
With a strong westerly wind, we decided a snack was in order while we watched the clouds race across the sky. Our personal chef had prepared three sandwiches, and while I considered suggesting that the two of us should arm wrestle for the third sandwich, I quickly remembered that our personal chef could rightly claim all the sandwiches for herself. She got the first half.
Just as we were leaving the meadow, the last of the clouds were finally east of Rainier.
Ka-pow! The huckleberries were in full fall regalia.
After a short respite in the sun, it was back into the woods for another mile of up. This was the steepest part of the trail - though not really that steep given some of the hiking we'd recently tackled on the Sunshine Coast - taking us from 4,900- to 5,700-feet and delivering us to the two-mile long meadow that would be our reward for the day.
It would also be the point at which all photos - and there were many taken - would start to look the same. This is the way with any trip to The Mountain. The darn thing is so big - and rises so dramatically above the landscape - that it effects a gravitational pull on all nearby camera lenses.
You've been warned.
We were thrilled that the clouds had cleared - almost completely - by the time we entered Grand Park.
The scale of this place is mind boggling.
I never know whether to push in or pull back to try to frame the surrounding rockery.
After using up what felt like half the storage of my camera, there was only one thing to do: keep enjoying the view as we stuffed our faces with those last two sandwiches. This time, with the same number of sandwiches as people, I didn't even consider arm wrestling; losing would have meant no lunch for me!
"Hey guys, umm, where's the third sandwich?" -Mr. Munk
(Townsend's Chipmunk, Eutamias townsendii)
I promise our lunch view was different than the earlier perspectives.
Clouds adding some visual interest.
Scale.
After lunch we continued our leisurely stroll through the yellowing grass, rib-like clouds materializing out of blue skies right before our eyes. Our destination - an overlook that was marked on our topo maps, but not really the end of any trail - was less than a mile away at this point, and we reveled in the realization that we had this usually-busy-place, all to ourselves!
No one else in frame.
At the far end of the park, the trail dove back into the trees and shed a few feet of elevation as it stretched out onto a nearby ridge. Below, the West Fork of the White River trickled along below us, it's water level the lowest it would be all year.
Man, it was spectacular.
Our turn-around spot.
With the best views behind us - literally - on the way down, we made much better time than we had on the way up. Surely this had nothing to do with the help of gravity - our youthful bodies are impervious to fatigue - and within a couple hours we were back at the Tacoma, stowing a now-dry tent and discussing which of the two tasty dinners we should prepare when we arrived at camp.
Got a nice chuckle out of this at the trailhead.
Any camp in this area is worthless in my mind - and there are a lot of worthless camps in the area -if there isn't a dramatic view of the mountain taking up most of the skyline. And, having visited the area a few times in the past - then, to simply explore various forest service roads in search of the best camp sites - we had our sights set on one of the closest sites to the mountain, and one that certainly met the criteria of being fantastic.
Nestled into the trees, we'd hoped to camp there the previous evening - eeking out a bit of shelter from the storm - but we'd been surprised to find the site already occupied by a 4WD van on a Tuesday evening. I'd popped out to say hi and ask how long they planned to stay, and from our brief conversation, @mrs.turbodb gave us a 25% chance of finding the site vacated.
Should have bought that lottery ticket!
A break in the trees just big enough for a Tacoma.
Thrilled to find ourselves as the designated residents until the following morning, we relaxed a bit - not that our youthful bodies needed it - before deciding on tacorittoes for dinner, thus saving our chicken-pesto-pasta for wherever we might find ourselves the following night.
As we ate, the sun dropped below the horizon. The brilliant blue sky worked its way through shades of pink, purple and orange as temperatures dropped, and cleanup was completed just as the last of the color splashed before our eyes.
Nearly bed time. For us youthful folk. 
We were in the tent by 9:00pm, clear skies resulting in much cooler temperatures than we'd experienced the previous evening. Still, two layers of down comforters kept us nice as toasty as twilight faded and we buried ourselves in our books.
We didn't last long, and within five minutes, we were asleep.
I took a short break from sleeping at 2:00am to have a little fun with the rainbow LEDs.
The Whole Story
Looks like a beautiful hike, nice photos as usual, the mountain is very impressive. I've heard that there is an average of 2 climbers dying on the mountain each year. Also yead that Rainier is considered one of the most dangerous volcanoe's, evidently because of the devastation it could cause if it errupts again. Still beautiful, thank for sharing.
You both got to see some beautiful country and just in time before the cold hits. Making me want to hurry up and get there net summer!! Thanks Guys!!