Soloing It

Summerland 8/18-8/19/07 8.5 miles

Did you ever want to do something so bad that you made plans every year to finally accomplish it only to back down later out of fear? Well, mine has been to do a solo backpack. There were years I made plans and just followed through. There were the few times I packed everything up, hiked to my campsite, set up camp, wondered around a bit, broke down camp and went home before the sun ever set. So at the beginning of this year, I said no more excuses - I would do a solo backpack, just an over-nighter. I had to prove to myself that I could do this - rely on my own outdoor ability to get by.

Michael & I decided I should head out on a trail we both knew, wasn't too difficult and was close to home (just in case I needed rescuing). The trail to Summerland fit all three of these criteria. Plus it had the added bonus of the most magnificent view out the tent window of Mt Rainier. And I would go on my birthday weekend. What better way to celebrate your birth than to accomplish somehting new?

Saturday started out beautifully. With a short warning from the rangers of a bear hanging out around camp, I made my way up Fryingpan Creek with the dayhikers and a few other over-nighters. The creek tumbled past as the water rushed noisily to the White River and beyond as if in a hurry to get to the ocean. As I climbed, snowfields high above glinted across the valley. Wild blueberries ripening on the bush enticed me further along to the crossing of Fryingpan Creek. I don't remember if the log bridge across the creek had been lost in last winter's storms, if it had been, a new bridge easily stretched across the cascading water.

On the other side the trees thinned out to reveal a meadow filled with cascade asters, fireweed, and those damned yellow composites. I figured I'd stop to get pictures the next day on my way out - right now I just wanted to get up the hill and drop my pack. So I continued on through the trees and past more wildflowers until I reached Summerland and the camp off to the right.

I quickly found a site, ate lunch, set up camp and hung my bear-bag (with all my scented items, on the advice of the ranger). I wanted to take a short nap before exploring the meadow more. I woke up with a cold stiff breeze flowing through the tent as I hadn't yet put on the rain-fly (it's wasn't going to rain - not on MY weekend). Sure enough, the clouds had set in and as I went to explore the meadow, I noticed most of the dayhikers had returned to the trailhead.

As I settled in for the evening, with the rain-fly on (just in case) the first raindrops started to fall. It rained all night. About 5:30 in the morning I noticed several very wet spots in my tent - in fact the whole floor was soaked. I laid there for a little while realizing the foot of my sleeping bag had also gotten wet and devised a plan. I got up, tore down camp, crammed some food items in my pocket to "breakfast" while walking and started down the hill, stopping only long enough to bang my poles together and yell "Hey bear! Run away bear!" just in case he wasn't any more brilliant than I and was also out in the rain.

As I walked through the trees early that very damp morning, I did have a sense of accomplishment. I finally slept through the night in the wilderness by myself. Now, is there no limit to what I can do? what will be next? A week in Bryce Canyon? But first I'll need to water-proof my old beat up tent.