Growing up in rural Michigan, I was raised with a deep love and respect for nature, but upon moving to Seattle at 20, when my life revolved around my music career as the guitarist in a punk band, I found myself enamored with the city and drifted away from the great outdoors. For 14 years, I immersed myself in the vibrant city life- attending punk shows, Sounders matches and even participating in cycling protests.

It wasn’t until I relocated to Colorado in 2018 that I rekindled my passion for nature, falling in love with the majestic mountains and serene forests. So when I heard that my old band, Success, was reuniting for a one-time show in Seattle, I jumped at the chance to return to the Pacific Northwest and reconnect with its beauty, both by bike and on foot.

I stayed with our drummer in Enumclaw, near Mt. Rainier, eager to explore the area. After the exhausting 23-hour drive from Fort Collins, I rested for a few days, helping out on their small farm and planning my first adventure: the Olallie Trail, a challenging 16-mile ride with a steep climb.

With perfect weather forecasted, I tuned up my bike and set out early the next morning with m OPR pants and Fremont Hoodie, prepared for a rewarding ride. The directions looked questionable, but I figured I could sort it out. As I drove, the anticipation built. However, I soon found myself navigating what appeared to be closed service roads, feeling increasingly discouraged as I couldn’t find the trailhead.

Finally, I parked at the Olallie State Park entrance and decided to ride the gravel service road, hoping for the best. About 2.5 miles in, I stumbled upon a trailhead sign that read “Olallie Trail.” Suddenly, it dawned on me that I had been riding along the path I was searching for! I charged up the trail, dodging 3.5 inch long banana slugs, filled with excitement. 

The trail was a wonderland, shaded by towering moss-covered Douglas firs, reminiscent of a scene from “Fern Gully.” Vibrant mushrooms of orange, red and yellow popped against the green backdrop, adding to the enchantment. The climb was relentless, winding through dense temperate rainforest, but the cool canopy shielded me from the sun’s warmth as I pushed through. 

Around the 8-mile mark, after a grueling ascent, I decided to turn back. But the descent was pure bliss—smooth, flowy, and filled with expertly crafted berms on the switchbacks. I couldn’t help but shout with joy as I raced back down, completely lost in the exhilaration of the ride.

Exhausted but elated, I returned to my car and realized I had forgotten my snacks at my friend’s house. I quickly guzzled water and headed straight to Taco Time for a well-deserved crispy chicken burrito and tots (a major guilty pleasure of mine – we don’t have Taco Time in CO).

The following day, while at work, I checked in with a local customer who had recently hiked around Mt. Rainier. He shared breathtaking photos and recommended the Burroughs 3 trail, a 10-mile trek that peaks at about 4 miles from the summit of Rainier in Mt. Rainier National Park. I had longed to climb this iconic volcano, and with favorable weather predicted for Sunday, I was eager to make it happen. 

Upon arriving at the trailhead, the sight of Mt. Rainier filling the landscape was awe-inspiring – Tahoma was out! I nearly forgot my camera in my excitement, but I quickly grabbed it and set off on the trail. The hike began with a steady ascent, and despite feeling quite sore from my last outing, the breathtaking views kept me motivated.

As I ascended above tree line, I was exposed to the elements but luckily the weather was perfect with a slight breeze, I embraced the beautiful blue skies. The trail was well-maintained, though I navigated pockets of scree like you often find when hiking a 14er in Colorado. Upon reaching the second Burrough, I was greeted by fellow hikers enjoying the views. After a quick snack and some photos, I continued my climb to Burroughs 3.

The final ascent was steep and challenging, but after about 45 minutes, I stood at the summit, taking in the jaw-dropping scenery. I felt a rush of emotions, reflecting on my journey over the past 20 years in Washington and Colorado. In that moment, I felt small yet empowered, alone yet connected to something grand and much larger than myself.

By the time I reached my car, fatigue set in, but my heart was full. The day had been more than just a hike; it was a reminder of my love for nature and not only the importance of connecting with the these wild spaces, but the importance of protecting them. As I drove away, I looked at Rainier (Tahoma) and thanked her for the experience. I felt grateful for the journey and excited for future adventures in the beautiful PNW.