The Mary month of Jun(iper) Ridge

I've never been one to readily invest my trust into a support group as a reliable way to heal, change and grow. The stubborn bone (or two) in me tries to think it's way through the future while the feeling part can't experience how a support group may actually change habits until it happens. This usually ends up leading me to a "got this on my own" mentality. I'm getting better, but I will be the first to admit that I have unfinished business with this area of my growth.

But the proof is in the practice and in practice, I've not pushed myself on in a fraction of the hikes I hoped to make it on since being out here. Turns out, it's a lot easier to fulfill one's hiking goals with a support group!

With Mar, Leo and Lew already part of their own hiking pact, I used the opportunity to suggest that we go to Juniper Ridge, one of the many hikes I'd been told is too breathtaking to pass up. Honestly, which hike have I not been told this about? Lew and Mar had to work but Leo's friend Brain was in town and boldly agreed to the adventure despite his severe lack of confidence in hiking capabilities.

While finding trailheads can sometimes be a battle, it was easy for Juniper because the trail head is just across from Tongue Mountain. Since we'd already covered the whole getting-lost bit on that road the week before, we were extra attentive and efficient with our navigation this time.

Washington had officially entered a heat wave that continues as I write this bare-legged on my couch with a fan blowing up my skirt (this weather can take it's own hike anytime now, thanks) and so we wanted to get started fairly early.

We hit the trail around 10:30 in good spirits, although I think the boys were stewing on some mental anticipation of the difficulty level we'd read about in descriptions. The first two miles or so was completely in the shade of the woods and although it switch-backed most of the way up, the switches were long and gradual. I got stuck in my groove relatively quickly and lost them before I realized. When Mary caught up, we sat on a log singing musicals until they arrived.

The trail is well-known for it's wildflowers but they'd all but come and gone this season!

There is a beautiful breaking point about a mile from the top where the woods open up to a view of what we first thought was mount Rainier, because woods severely distort the context of my directions (it was Adams). We stopped here for a bit, oooh-ing and ahh-ing and taking pictures. While I was sitting down, a stunning, fiery-colored butterfly joined me on my bag, eventually becoming comfortable enough to crawl onto my fingertip. I dubbed him Merlin and he hung out with us for the good 15-20 minutes we were stopped. I was elated to have this little buddy around and even more so when we got up to walk and he accompanied me, perched parrot-style for a good stretch up the trail until we entered the woods and he began to shiver.

The last mile or so doesn't joke around. It mostly keeps you in the shade, but the ascent continues on without pause. From the break, we'd seen the top of the ridge and I was determined to push through to the very end but I was definitely moving at a stagger's pace by the time the trail evened out. The expanse that I was greeted with at the top however, gave me an instant burst of energy. When the trail first levels, it follows along a trench that is most likely flowing with water during a more typical summer. Up ahead, I could tell that the last little hump was going to open up onto something impressive and my pace quickened. Sure enough, once over that hill, the world is unveiled at your fingertips. I could see our three snow-capped peaks and as I climbed the nearby rock cliffs to reach the highest point, Mt. Hood came into view as well. Below the cliffs I was on, the trail can be seen to continue for miles along the ridge, valleys in every direction.

In time, Mary and Leo caught up at the top and we basked, for what would never be long enough. Life hadn't felt this whimsical in a long time. It felt as though I could wait away any other problems, just by remaining on that mountainside.

Photo courtesy of Leo: Where we'd been. Tongue is the blue arrow and the break is the red. 

Of course, suiting for the toneset of 21st century hiking, I called my mom while I was up there also.

Going down was a synch. Since the trail is mostly uphill, the return trip is obviously the opposite. We

had much more breath reserved for conversation and between talking and wide grins, we were down in half the time. Overall, the hike took about 4 hours including the leisurely time spent at the top.

Before and after