Burroughs Mountain Trail

Part 1: Drowning in Domesticity

It's hard to believe that the pandemic has been drastically affecting our lives for nearly six months now! Quarantine life is starting to feel almost normal, and it's been going on so long that I didn't think that school starting would feel different or even be a big deal. We would still be at home all day every day just like we were during spring and summer, after all. Sameness defines life right now. So starting school seemed that it would just mean extra screen time each day for the kids. No big deal, right?

Wrong! 

All three of our kids are competent computer users, and for the most part Jay and Rose are pretty independent with their online school schedules so far. When something goes wrong with school stuff, however, they need me RIGHT NOW to fix the problem immediately so they can attend their class meeting before it ends. Consequently, I am the most restricted to the house that I have been since the days of napping diapering babies. 

I am a morning worker. I am most productive and efficient before lunch. I exercise, clean, run errands, meal plan, etc. all before lunchtime. It's what I'm used to, and what I'm good at. Jeff and I joke that the day is half over at 10am, because I like do most of the day's work early. 

While online school is in session, I can't leave the house at all, even to run laps around the fields out back. It is a surprisingly trapped feeling to be stuck at home between 8am and noon! And if I want the morning chores and before-school routine to be completed, that threshold scoots back to 7am. When I had babies, I just strapped them into the jogging stroller or into the car seat and did what needed to be done anyways. Our well-worn jogging stroller is no help now!   

When school started last Wednesday, I was somewhat blindsided by the necessity of being constantly within earshot of my kids. On the first day of school, I began running laps around the fields out back at 7:30am and returned to the house regularly to keep the routine rolling forward. (Did you practice piano? Please change your underwear! Who's turn is it to unload the dishwasher? Double check what time your first Zoom meeting starts!) It was a very disjointed four mile run. 

The next day, I wore my running clothes all morning but never managed to pull myself away from Parental Responsibilities to go for a run. It was maddening! In order to pass the time without straight-up hovering behind the kids' computers or losing my mind trying to read or write with one ear cocked kid-ward, I cleaned the basement. The basement has never been as clean as it was during my Thursday cleaning spree when I wanted to be out running. That afternoon, I changed out of my running clothes without having run a single step. 

By that point, I was feeling very boxed in, and it was only day two of the online school year! Something had to change. I needed to take charge of the situation and figure out how to make it work for our entire family--myself included. So got out a pencil and spent a few hours troubleshooting, scheming, and planning ways to take control of whatever tidbits of weekdays were left to me.

My immediate concern was creating a simple daily routine for the kids to follow before and after online school. All three kids are the most content when they know what to expect from each day. Our spring and summer routines worked so well for the kids, I knew I wanted to give them that level of independence and daily stability this fall as well. 

Once I had jotted down, scratched out, and rearranged the kids' daily routine into a workable model, I was able to see the slivers of time that could be my own. I asked myself what I needed most to stay sane and be a good mom/ teacher/ housekeeper/ wife/ balancing-act-extraordinaire. The answer was simple: exercise and quiet time every day, and mountains every week. After more troubleshooting, I dreamed up an outside-the-box plan to meet my needs while also meeting the needs of my family. 

When Jeff got home on Thursday afternoon, I told him all about the new routine and conferred with him about my possible personal time with Mother Nature. My plan was to take one afternoon per week to go on a trail run. Jeff sweetened the deal by saying that he could easily work from home one afternoon per week, since his online teaching is during the morning and he mostly emails students in the afternoon. So I wouldn't even have to feel guilty for leaving Jay in charge while I selfishly fled to the mountains! 

Less than 24 hours later, I was driving west towards my favorite therapist, Tahoma. Mt. Rainier. It felt surreal to be leaving for the mountains in the afternoon! It also felt amazing! Necessary. Liberating. Therapeutic.

Part 2: Trail Therapy

My much-researched trail of choice was the Burroughs Mountain Trail near Sunrise in Mt. Rainier National Park, 122 miles/2.5 hours from home. It was everything the reports said and more. Mostly more steep rocky inclines than anything, but the day was sunny, the sky was blue, and I was ready to absorb some of the tranquil timeless wisdom from Tahoma. 

Billed as the best way to "get as close to Rainier without being on Rainier," the Burroughs Mountain Trail approaches the northeastern side of Mt. Rainier by climbing three steep "burroughs." The burroughs are creatively named First Burrough, Second Burrough, and Third Burrough. Now, to me, a burro is either a small equine, an underground tunnel, or a section of a large city. All of Friday afternoon I wondered why these massive mountains were called Burroughs. Later research revealed that they are named after John Burroughs, a 19th century naturalist who "visited the area several times." The National Parks Service needs to rethink its naming strategies.

Back to the trail: this was a tough gritty run! It was a whole lot of steep incline with loose dirt and rocks that had my feet slipping and scrambling even with my grippy trail running shoes. The altitude (6100 feet at the trailhead) clamped its depriving vice on my lungs. The sweeping 360 degree panoramic views were stunning. It was a satisfying challenge!

The only downside: this was a heavily trafficked, widely popular trail during the most busy season of Mt. Rainier National Park. I brought my face mask for courtesy and went anyways, because the high season is the only time this area is even accessible, thanks to long heavy dangerous mountain winters. 

Even just a few breaths through a face mask at altitude was ROUGH. I put my mask on and off several dozen times during my three hours on the trail. Again, it was worth the trouble for the VIEWS. Since I arrived at the trailhead after 3pm, many people were close to finishing their day there, and I was able to find parking in the mostly full lot with relative ease. There were even flushing toilets. Such decadence.

It was strange to begin a trail run so late in the day! Even though I knew that I would have enough daylight for my run, I felt the time crunch of the approaching sunset the whole time. When I was about 20 minutes from my turnaround point, a kindly group of experienced hikers cautioned me that once the sun went behind the mountain, it got very cold very fast. I assured them I would turn back soon, and scampered up the final half mile of the final Burrough as fast as I could power walk on the slippery loose rocky dirt at a 13% grade.

On the way down, I slurped a Gu energy gel that I had pilfered from Jeff's supply box. It was cloyingly thick, sweet, and sticky. But it also had 40 mg of caffeine in it that perked my tired brain right up. I've never had much to do with caffeine, but on this run I really noticed how much it helped me along when I was lagging. The gooey carbohydrates seeped quickly into my muscles and the caffeine zinged my brain. I made it back to the car at 7pm in excellent spirits, wishing guiltily that I had more of this magical caffeine for the long dark drive home. Too bad I detest all carbonation and don't drink tea or coffee. So much for my would-be caffeine dependency! Hah. 

I loved this run. I was tired from a long week and a long drive, but this excursion was more for my soul than my body, so the physical toll was barely a factor. I ran 10.5 miles and spent 3 hours on the trail, ate a lunchbox dinner in the car, and got home at 10:15pm.

Part 3: Pictures

How many pictures of the same mountain is too many? Definitely more than these 27.

Taken mid-run, used first because it seemed like a nice dramatic beginning. Although I do look a little hunched and tired in this shot, because I was. 

The rest of the pictures are in chronological order along the trail:

The trail's first view of Tahoma. Since I was northeast of the mountain, the light was all wrong for truly excellent phone pictures. The mountain kind of bounced and blurred the bright afternoon sunlight and made for some less clear pictures, but I went when I could.

These little knee-high signs were very unhelpful. I took a wrong turn at one junction and went down a painfully steep loose-rocked trail for over half a mile before realizing my mistake and turning back up that painful pointless incline.

Whenever the trail twisted so the sun was to the side or behind, my pictures immediately became clearer. 

It's like I was taking a picture THROUGH actual filmy sun rays, blurring the mountain. A better camera would have handled it fine, but I run light and my lightest camera is my little 2017 Google Pixel 2 cell phone.

Evidence of intense mountain weather was all over the signs. This one was tipped.  Alpine Tundra sounds so interesting, doesn't it? "Similar to the tundra zone in the arctic regions of the world," it says. Nifty. This was really an incredibly barren rocky trail for most of the way. Without the stunning mountain views, it would not have been nearly as worthwhile.

I think that little peak peeking out is Little Tahoma. 

[I don't know why I have such angst when it comes to landmark names, but it bugs me that white men changed he name of what the Native Americans called Tahoma to Mt. Rainier, named after a naval officer Peter Rainier (who never even visited the mountain, or anywhere inland from the east coast), but kept the name Little Tahoma for the smaller peak next door. Hubris, much? This is an informative article about the Rainier/Tahoma name: https://www.mountaineers.org/blog/the-case-for-tahoma]

The clear non-glinty-misty pictures are looking east; the hazy into-the-sunlight pictures of the big mountain are facing west.

Cliffside running is such a rush!

This bright lake was so aqua BLUE. 

Rocks, snow, and more rocks. 

It was so sunny that I couldn't really see my phone screen very well, so I kept randomly setting the timer and hoping for the best. Hence the several running-Shaina pictures.

Another befuddling series of semi-helpful signs, haha.

It's hard to tell, but I think this was taken from the top of the First Burrough?

Mountain views for days. That tiny pale white pointy mountain in the middle of the horizon may be Mt. Baker. I'm not sure.

The south slopes of Tahoma.

Little Tahoma

View from the top of the Second Burrough: the mountain view kept getting impossibly larger!

Another horizon shot with a big mountain to the left-center. Mt. Baker? Mt. Stuart? I really don't know much about the placement of the mountains north of Rainier.

I really like Little Tahoma, if you can't tell. The Alpine Tundra was such an interesting scrubby rough area.

The one and only picture of my wrong turn detour. It was so steep!

Barren openness always surprises me in these alpine areas.

Almost to the top of the Third Burrough! This climb nearly doubled the total elevation gain for this trail, all in 3/4 of a mile.

On top of the Third Burrough, I could barely get the entire mountain into one picture. The WTA (Washington Trails Association) describes the Third Burrough: "the reward is the invigorating feeling of being so close to Mount Rainier that you could reach out and touch it."

Looking back.

Feeling small. Always a novelty for a 6 foot tall girl.

The ripples in that glacier fascinated me. I wanted my binoculars to examine the ridges more closely. 

Heading back, I had my long shadow for company. That fork in the trail waaay out there is where I took that painful wrong turn, haha.

Dramatic evening lighting. Early mornings are a peaceful time to be in the mountains, but I learned that evening is also a restful peaceful time. The difference is the energy: in the morning, everything seems fresh, energetic, and astir; in the evening, it all feels mellow and tired, ready to settle in for the night.

Second Burrough selfie, with the sunlight catching my horrifically messed up braid. Ha! I had no idea my hair was that messy. It's all good, I only saw fifty or sixty people.

This serene marmot was sunning himself when I passed by on the nearby trail. He was not scared of me at all. You have an excellent living room, my friend.

I had to zoom in just a little on his fuzzy silhouette.

One more of the marmot enjoying the mountain view and sunshine--he is on the right, facing the mountain, with his back to the camera.

A few steps past the first marmot, I came upon another (on the rock to the right). This lady languidly turned her head towards me and just looked at me like "I am getting my evening vitamin D here, so leave me alone, please." I almost felt bad taking a picture of her dignity.

Frozen Lake up ahead. I took a fork near the Second Burrough to make a loop for the last 2 miles of my run.

Thinking about the wind speeds and storms that weathered this sign made my head spin. 

Bye, Tahoma.

Those long shadows were delicious across the pines.

The moon was rising in the east.

I love seeing what the light catches and what remains in shadow.

Mountain shadows cast upon other mountains are so looming and ominous! 

Moon over mountains over perfect evergreens.

The Sunrise parking area at last! My legs were ready to be done.

Sunlight, shadow, mountain, meadow, snow, rocks, trees, grass: a study in contrasts.

Traditional trailhead sign picture, this time with my mask as a memento. The thing fogs my glasses like crazy! The bendy strip in the nose piece of the mask doesn't stay clamped down. Hence the lens fog. I nearly tripped and fell several times while wearing my mask on my run due to the lens fog.

Mt. Adams peeking over the ridge, pink with sunset.

The last wash of light over Tahoma was perfection with the silhouetted pines in the foreground.

Moon over mountains (Mt. Adams on the right).