Today’s the day I’ve been waiting for. We will leave the forest and enter the Goat Rocks Wilderness. It’s the high country with rocks, different formations, and views of the deep green forested valleys, blue lakes, and Mount Ranier watching over it all. 

We head up long climbs. More and more people emerge from different trails to climb up to precipices and sit and view. Most people have set up base camps and hike up to the edge. Fewer, like us, ascend and descend the edges of this area. We leave most of the chaotic-seeming groups of people, and we head out to what’s left of the Packwood Glacier. We can’t see what’s ahead except for two snow fields. The second one we see slides off forever. I don’t think you could survive a slid off this one. 

I’m reluctant to move forward. As I approach, I see that the entrance to the snowfield is a short fall-away spit of gravelly mud. I can’t stand in it without falling. I slide down on my butt. The snow is a bit slippery, but it’s a fairly typical tracked snow passage. All’s fine until we get to the other side. It doesn’t meet the trail. It’s well below it. I can’t seem to stand and walk up it or scramble over the rocks. The wet scree ground just crumbled away. I’m on knees then belly. Terry helps pull me up. 

Between the snow we slowly navigate the sharp, shards of clinking rocks. We do this over four snow passes. Then the fifth is the kicker. The ground is so unsteady even the big rocks you think you can depend on tumble away. I sit down to get low enough to spread my weigh and inch over the ground to the last snow patch. 

Terry takes my pack off. He turns back to help me and my pack starts to roll away. He jumps and almost snags it as it rolls over a big rock and drops away. Terry turns back quickly and accidentally kicks my hiking pole into a hole. I don’t want him to recue these items. I tell him not to. But he’s good and sure footed. Even though there is an ice bridge on the corner of the rock he must go around, he risks his life and recovers pack and pole. 

A young woman comes from behind . She, too, is afraid and shares our tension and apprehension. We make it across the ice and scramble up another treacherous hill. She goes down on bare knees, she’s wearing shorts, to pull herself slowly up. 

After this we’re on the knife’s edge. It tangles around five, six, maybe more sharp peaks. It’s exposed to death defying plunges on both sides. The wind is fierce. Up hill is OK. But downhill is slip-sliding scree. It takes its toll on my knees. 

Despite it being gorgeous with every turn, I hated the hike. 

We reach sanity and walk away from the knifes edge and turn a corner to a long, peaceful valley. Did we really make it? The quiet  was so healing. We find a flat spot for our tent that even seems peaceful despite a strong wind beating out tent all night.