Hiking the Wonderland Trail. Days 7-9: Coming Full Circle

DAY 7: White River to Summerland

August 23

Mileage: 6.7

Summerland … how do I love thee, let me count the ways.

I’ve done a lot of hiking. Ok, let’s just say more than most people I know. And mostly Washington. But still, a fair bit.

Summerland (and Panhandle Gap) are the most magical places I’ve ever been. Yeah I know, the Enchantments are pretty great too, but it’s way too crowded … and I’m mad at the Enchantments anyways. Ya keep taking my $5 but never issue me a permit. And you’re going to take my $5 again. Anyways, I digress.

Summerland …. be still my heart.

Once we packed up at White River, we knew we had another relatively short day ahead of us. In 6.7 miles we would be at Summerland camp. I wasn’t entirely enthused at another low-mileage trek, but if you remember, the ranger informed us this would be to our advantage. I mentally agreed to trust the process.

Off we went! You know another silted river crossing means it’s time to go up. Up, up, up. Wonderstick led the way. Yeah, it’s still here.

If you look closely below, you can see Theron’s pack holds a stick as well. This was a HUGE source of contention. Long story short, Theron found a stick, wanted to keep said stick, Soren accused him of being a copy-cat stick-carrier, ordered him to ditch the stick, proceeded to pout when demands were ignored, yadda yadda.

“It’s not a Wonderstick,” Theron swore. He just wanted something to whittle, an activity he only discovered maybe a week ago. Seemed reasonable to me, but clearly not to a 13-year old claiming first stick rights. What did I know?

After a lengthy mother/son heart-to-heart, Soren begrudgingly let his brother retain the dumb stick.

Finally. Hike on.

The trek up into Summerland was rather uneventful. And one point I realized I had cell service (hallelujah!) and I was able to check in with Jason and a few others, for the first time in 8 days!

As we proceeded down the trail, through the woods, the skies began to open up and vast meadows spread out before us. The wild flowers stretched in every direction, a spectacle of pink, violets and yellows, vibrant colors that overwhelmed the senses. I was in awe. The lush vegetation, the mountains, the skies…..they seemed endless to the eye.

Given our short day, we were first to arrive at camp, which meant we were able to scout out the best site.

This was our most spacious site yet. Forgive me for not remembering which site number! I recall a commenter on the Far Out app reported that sites #3 and #5 were ideal, but we actually found this one to be superior in terms of space, shade, and views. Maybe it’s #4? It’s up the trail from the privy and bear pole, to the left. And that rock you see in the pic below, when lined with our trusty sit pads, felt like a recliner. Seriously, best site.

The privy at Summerland camp was also part of the fun.

First off, I know this might sound strange, but I really enjoyed the variety of backcountry toilets dispersed throughout the park. Almost none were the same. There were traditional walled-in styles with latching doors, like at and Golden Lakes and Sunrise, open-air contraptions with maybe a decrepid wall or two for privacy, like at S Puyallup River, Eagles Roost, and Mystic Lake, and then …. there’s this.

While walled in with a latching door like a traditional outhouse, the difference was in the way the waste was handled. After perching ones booty on the throne, the excrement was deposited onto what I can only describe as … a conveyer belt.

I know, who hasn’t wished to experience a conveyer belt of poop in the backcountry? Once finished, directions beside the throne instruct the user to pump a small lever neatly located alongside the base exactly seven times. With these seven pumps the odorous remains of your trail meals are then scooted along into unknownville, never to be seen again.

Whose idea was this? Insert puke emoji.

Per the detailed sign, this is apparently an “experimental” method to determine if waste (and the smell) can be dealt with more efficiently. I can’t speak for the efficiency of dealing with said waste, but for the smell? Holy shit. Pardon my language. That was the foulest smelling outhouse of the WHOLE trip. Zero stars, do not recommend.

Our solution was to prop the door open for one another so as not to asphyxiate by noxious fecal fumes. It was that bad. I recommend the parks service abort mission on this experiment.

You know what though? It’s still a bathroom … and I don’t have to dig a hole …. so thank you park service for that.

Another sign propped near the outhouse had me slightly more concerned. Bear spotted frequently in this area, it read. While this perked my spidey senses for a hot minute, let’s not forget who’s hiking here. It’s me. No wildlife to see here folks. And indeed that was the case.

The rest of the day was spent enjoying the surrounds. While Soren napped, Theron and I oohed and aahed at the endless display of wildflowers. We marveled at the vast array of butterflies, then gasped in shock as a naughty wasp literally entangled and then ate a butterfly right before our eyes, this whole scene going down atop a lovely white blossom. Oh nature, so beautiful, and so full of murders.

Later Soren finally emerged from his well-deserved slumber. We wandered further up the trail together. So many marmots galloped about in the fields of flowers. There were several great water sources just up from camp, and the water was incredibly refreshing for washing ones feet. We spent a good amount of time there just enjoying the afternoon.

Theron and I also finished our Junior Ranger books, determined to turn them in at Longmire and receive our hard earned badges.

Later that evening, after wrapping up dinner, we decided to all walk together back towards the streams to wash dishes and filter more water for the night. Here is where naked man #2 of our trip made an appearance.

As we walked back to the creek, the one pictured above in fact, with our dishes and water reservoirs in tow, a pair of man’s butt cheeks come into view. He had positioned his back to us, obviously nude, and obviously aware our party was making its way toward him.

Let me just explain the position of this water source, for clarity. It’s smack dab in the middle of the trail. Every single hiker has to walk over this patch of water to continue on the Wonderland Trail. In terms of privacy, on a scale of 1 out of 10, I give it a zero.

Why, oh why, would a grown man think it’s ok to get nude in the middle of the trail?

I kept marching onward when suddenly it dawned on me … I should probably let this guy finish his hillbilly trail shower. But instead of heading all the way back to camp, we parked it right around the corner, just out of sight. I was determined to wait until said bath was complete and then proceed to finish our camp duties.

Somehow I wasn’t paying attention and another couple passed us by. Within minutes they returned, wide eyed and smiling. “Naked man still down there?” I said. They nodded.

Soon enough the man sheepishly scoots by, now fully clothed of course, and we were able to carry on with our evening.

That night the sunset was ah-mazing. We shuffled down the path from our camp, past the privy, and back to the main trail to watch the sky spread out before us in the most stunning shades of red and purple. We watched several marmots hop through the meadows and chipmunks scurry to their dens as the sun went down. We headed back to camp for a very peaceful sleep.

DAY 8: Summerland to Maple Creek

August 24

Mileage: 14

This is my absolute favorite picture from our entire trip. No filter, no editing. My little Soren, look how far he’s come. Day 8, the final stretch. Remember, he didn’t even want to come on this adventure, but he knew he needed to do it. And here we are, our LAST full day on trail. I’m just so proud of him.

Our travels out of Summerland took us to arguably an even more beautiful section of the park. I think it’s called Panhandle Gap? I’m still learning the names of these areas. We aimed to get an early start this day, knowing we had a 14 miler ahead of us. While this day worried me 8 days ago, especially since this would count as the longest I’ve ever hiked with a pack, I now felt confident this was no problem.

The advantage of starting early, besides simply making it to camp before dark, was that the day started ablaze with sun. It lit up the rocks as we ambled past and highlighted the snowbanks in the distance.

The lush meadows quickly turned to barren, rocky landscapes. The sky opened up wide and you could almost see forever, the shadowed mountains out yonder seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see.

While I know I rhapsodized about Summerland, this was actually my favorite section of the trail. It was so … other-worldly. And for most of the day we were out there alone, lost in our thoughts and once again in awe of God’s breathtaking canvas.

But you know even amidst all this beauty there’s a crazy story to be told. This was the day I got asked out on a date on trail.

Let me backtrack a bit. While we did spend a good chunk of the day alone, we actually started the morning leapfrogging with a larger gang that had utilized the Summerland group site (I’m pretty sure one of them was naked trail man). They were a hiking club of sorts out of Portland, all of them moving along at their own pace more or less.

Many of them caught up to us at one particularly puzzling river crossing. We couldn’t quite find the right spot to rock hop across and so we ended up chit chatting with them a bit as we all brainstormed the best way to avoid flooding our shoes with water. Eventually the three of us succeeded and we gradually left them behind as they regrouped to help each member navigate the passage.

Maybe 10 minutes later a man is running up behind us, well, I mean, moving as quickly as one can with a 40lb pack up a 45 degree incline littered with loose rocks. He greets us and exclaims that we sure move at a good pace; it was hard to catch up with us.

I’m a little confused at this point, but ever the polite one, I smiled and engaged. Why was he so concerned to catch up with us? He proceeds to ask if I’d like to meet up sometime after “this,” (meaning the hike). Again, feeling confused, I asked if he means Longmire, the ending point for both of our groups. I instantly assumed he was arranging for our two groups to hang out, maybe share a celebratory beer after our hike.

“No,” he replied, “We could meet anywhere.” Still, I’m SO confused. I reminded him I live in Seattle. “I’d be happy to drive up to Seattle,” he says. “There’s great coffee up there.”

Ok, I’m a deer in the headlights here, friends. I’m starting to get it. I’m getting asked out on a date. I freeze.

In hindsight, the right thing to do at this very moment is to thank him for the kind offer and express some form of flattery, and then plainly state I am married and that is that. BUT NO … remember, I am frozen. I literally sit there for what feels like an eternity and blink. Is this happening right now?

I almost start to speak, but thank goodness a fellow group member of his arrives and breaks up the moment.

I should mention that while this whole convo is going, Soren is standing right beside me. I felt him nudge a little closer and his face turn to concern. Protective little Soren.

The conversation turns as the additional person now steers the discussion elsewhere, and within minutes I weave in some story about Jason. I avoid making eye contact, but within seconds I know he received the message.

“Oh, gosh, husband,” he says. “Well, you should feel flattered.” (I think that’s what he said … I’m still thawing out at this point, my recollection is sketchy). All in all he was super nice about it even though I was a dingbat and had no idea how to conduct myself in such a situation. I’ve been married for 22 years; I don’t know how the dating world works anymore let alone have I EVER been asked out in any of those years as well.

But I will say truthfully that I WAS flattered; no shower in 8 days, hair as greasy as bodybuilder on competition day, dirt that looked permanently tattooed underneath my fingernails … and someone took a notice to me.

As we start to walk away, Soren whispers to me, “What was THAT?” “I’ll tell you later,” was all I replied.

And I did tell him later, confirming his original suspicion. We had a fun little laugh and Theron was none the wiser about the whole ordeal. We actually chit chatted with that group a couple more times before we eventually left them in the dust.

Soon the landscape turned back into meadows and then forest. Down, down, down we went. We started the day around 6,500ft and would end at 3,500 or thereabouts. We passed by Indian Bar camp on the way, which many have reported was their favorite camp on the entire trail. Unfortunately that was not on our itinerary, but we did stop for a bar break and a foot soak. Somehow frigid glacier water is the perfect antidote to aching feet.

We passed through Box Canyon and marveled at the river eroded deep down in the rock walls.

Hiker note here: There are nice bathrooms and garbage receptacles at Box Canyon, so wash those hands and unload some trash on your way through.

We made it to Maple Creek camp by 6pm, the last party to arrive, and so claimed the one open spot and set up our tents. The night felt surreal. It was our LAST night. Last time setting up the tent. Last time unfurling our sleeping bags and blowing up sleeping pads. Last night I’d have to grudgingly crawl out of my tent at o’dark hundred and find a spot to pee. Last night hoisting our bag up on the bear pole. Last night just me and my boys, in the woods, on our first long-distance backpacking trip.

While I wanted to dwell on this more, to sit and ponder with my last little drop of scotch, unfortunately Soren was having a bear pole conundrum that night. “It’s full,” he said. Oh please, I thought, let’s go get this done.

But he was right. The hanger thingies were chockers. There was not a spot to be had. There were so many groups of singles camping that night (ie friends, each with their OWN food bag) that it was a literally bumper-to-bumper bear bags up there. This had never happened before. Finally we reasoned we would have to re-arrange this fiasco if there was any hope of getting our bag secured, and I was fully determined to do so. A Far-Out app user reported a moose (yes, a moose!) at this camp two years ago, so seemed wise to not take any chances.

So we take bags down, move them around, and get it sorted. Did I mention it’s dark? We are doing this by headlamp. Even more fun.

What’s funny is that by morning, when we go to collect our bag, and ours it the ONLY one still hanging. How ironic is that? Or was it the moose?

There was no moose by the way. And there never will be if I’m camping there.

DAY 9: Maple Creek to Longmire

August 25

Mileage: 10

Here we all, all packed up … our FINAL day! So surreal. I’ve never had a feeling like this before. So excited to rejoin the comforts of everyday life .. but so sad to be ending this adventure with my boys. It’s such a conflicting feeling. I’m sure many of you know it well, but for us this was all new.

The only other experience that I can relate was returning from my first study abroad when I was 20. While clearly on a much larger scale than this little trip, the feeling of “re-entry” was similar in a way. So much was learned, explored, engaged in such a relatively short amount of time all things considered, and sometimes returning to the “normal” is challenging.

This was a similar feeling. The boys grew in so many ways. I watched as they learned to pitch in and divvy up responsibilities. They learned to do hard things when they didn’t want to. They learned that complaining solves zero problems. They learned to ask for help when they needed it. They learned to work with each other instead of against. And they learned to soak in the day, envelope themselves with nature, and just breathe.

It’s hard to just jump back into normal life after that, you know? No one will ever know these stories and the these days as richly as we do. This blog helps to save and recount some of those memories in a small way, but the moments and feelings of each day will only ever be fully understood by us.

It’s like a whole world of newness, beauty, lessons and gratitude .. then BAM. Back to reality.

But one of us was not having any of these conflicting or sentimental feelings. As we marched down the trail that morning and into the afternoon, Soren repeatedly exclaimed “I can’t wait to get home!” “Let’s get milkshakes!” “We are almost there!” I wanted to slap him.

Apart from that, it was a good last day on trail. This section, as we ambled on towards Paradise and then to Longmire, had so many waterfalls and even a few mildly treacherous loose-rock crossings. At one point we even came to a road where Soren thought he might find an easy exit from the trail. A little late for that, buddy.

Eventually we came upon Reflection Lake, and it was truly stunning. I can see why people drive up here just for the view. We encountered many day-trippers who were delighted to meet my young men on their final hurrah of the trail.

If I haven’t mentioned already, we did keep some video trail reports along the way. Upon arriving at this lake, and knowing we were coming up on our final miles of the trail, the idea to have the boys do a “reflection” video came to mind. I had them both sit at on a small bench and record some musings that they could share with me later.

All of our videos are up on our Instagram page if you fancy hearing a bit of our commentary along the way (@going_on_a_hike). For multi-day trips like this, I highly recommend keeping a brief video log as you go as it helped me greatly in remembering little details that I might have easily overlooked.

Past Reflection Lake we took a quick side trip to another lake (so many lakes in this area!), probably in my attempt to prolong the day as much as possible.

And then it happened … I started to get sad. It was only early afternoon and suddenly I recognized parts of the trail. I realized we had come full circle. We were back on the segment where we had “day-hiked” from Cougar Rock campground the night before we started our journey. The newness had ended. We were truly on the final stretch.

Soren became even more invigorated at this point, a new bounce in his step. Super annoying. I started to slow down and breath more deeply, just to take it all in.

We arrived at what I knew was our last river crossing. Oh how far we had come.

Then it was over the river and through the woods … and … Longmire came into view. And before you knew it, we were there. We could see the very last step. As we all raced forward, sun, cars and people looming in the distance, Soren stopped us. “Let’s take the last step together,” he said.

So we stopped at that very last step and put our arms around one another. Part of me wanted to record this final moment or at least take a picture, and while that would have made such a beautiful image, I just wanted to be in the moment.

We all hit that bottom stair with one unified force. It was done. We did it. This mom and her boys completed the Wonderland Trail. No injuries, no blisters, no lost belongings, and no lack of food. We didn’t just do this trail … we rocked it.