We
continued towards our last destination in the US, eastwards along the
Columbia, passing the eccentric mansion and model Stonehenge at
Maryhill, then striking north through more open farming country, with
few spread out communities. Then it was the industrial scale fruit
growing region around Yakima, before turning back east into the
mountains following a deep gorge with its wild, rapidly descending
torrent to the continental divide at White Pass, and then down into
Mount Rainier National Park, where we arrived at the remote
settlement of Packwood. We had booked into a classic old-school
motel (though dressed up with mock castellated towers) a few miles
out of town, with a little stream gurgling away and a definite out of
season feel. In fact we found that the nearest entrance to the park
proper was closed, and the pass we had come over was not long opened.
The village was tiny, but with a really good coffee shop/bakery, and
a rough and ready pub with guys in stetsons and plaid shirts and down
home waitresses. And hearty food at bargain prices. Next day we
found our way into the central part of the park from the western
entrance. An unpromising day, with lowering grey clouds, and as we
drove deeper into the forest we were soon enveloped. A waterfall on
the route was almost lost in the grey drizzly mist – but very
atmospheric. No sign of Mount Rainier, and we were rather
discouraged from continuing, but we carried on and suddenly were in
clear air above the cloud layer. We had arrived in Paradise – no
really! It's the name of the park inn and visitor centre – which
were only just being dug out from 12 foot snow drifts. Below us
cloud banks filled the valleys, and above the broad flanks of the
mountain, black rock and sparkling white snow, against a deep blue
sky. We could see how the place got its name.
So
that was the end of the first leg of our trip: a spectacular finale.
Next day we were off to the airport for the short flight to Calgary.
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