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What to take?
Friday. I agonize over whether to take my tinware teapot and cups, whistling kettle and the portable stove top. I imagine
Lapsang Souchong (the smoky tea) by the campfire… I am reminded that we are actually staying at Paradise Inn, not the
campsite, so I turn my attentions to which bag to pack, whether to take my hairdryer, my laptop, my PDA and portable DVD player.
I settle on just taking the cell phone, Kerry plans to take one of our many tabletop fans; there is no a/c in Paradise. Having
no outdoors clothes, I pack mostly loungewear and my only pair of tennis shoes, but my toilet bag is bursting with the full
line of Jo Malone skincare, L’Occitane sunscreen and essential oils Deet-free bug spray. At the last minute I pack a
brand new, unused picnic blanket and thermos set and a copy of this month’s Elle Décor. I kiss the cat and we’re
out the door ready for the three-hour drive to the great outdoors. Luckily Kerry remembers to bring the directions, or we
might have had to navigate using an 11th Century map of Holy land, but that’s another story….
Nous sommes arrivee
We arrive in good time, pay our $10 to get into the Mount Rainier National Park and meet my father-in-law at the Paradise
Inn lodge. He’s sacked out on in a comfy chair reading while the rest of his party, Kerry’s mother, brother and
his wife, hike the mountain in search of good clean air and glacial breezes. I had planned to go but the heat of the day and
my allergy medication made me back out at the last minute. Drowsy and hot I decide to keep Jimmy and Kerry company on the
sofa instead. The air in the Great Hall of the lodge has a lot to be desired; there is fugg you could cut with a knife. On
one of the hottest days of the year so far, the pungent aroma of unwashed hikers and campers, many of whom seems to have removed,
or be in the process of removing, their shoes and socks right there in the lobby of the lodge. Mixed with bad ventilation,
I am reminded of the city on garbage day - “Vapour, and exhalation dust and moist”*. I think of our room with
a bath and my Jo Malone bottles about me….
Despite the odiferous atmosphere, I am impressed, this does seem to be more of hotel that I had hoped, with gift shop, snack
bar and a la carte dining. My spirits are lifted. We try and check in to our room, but are informed that our room will not
be ready until 4pm. With father-in-law as our Sherpa Tensing, we hike all of 100 ft to the Visitor’s Center for a snack-type
lunch and a potter around the bookshop and gift shop where I buy postcards. After a couple of hours of browsing at the exhibits
at the center, we hike back to the lodge and settle in to read on the sofas again. I check back at the reception desk, our
room is still not ready. I inquire about a fan as Kerry has forgotten his and am told fans will be issued on a ‘first-come
first-served’ basis when our room is ready…. I take another tour of the gift shop and buy more postcards. I write
to the friends and family whose addresses I can remember, having left my PDA at home. Our climbing party arrives back and
finally our room is ready. We agree to meet them for dinner at the Cougar Rock campground loop B where they have set up the
Jeffrey Family temporary hacienda. We get our rooms keys, order our fan to be sent up and find our ‘wee nooke’
for the night at the end of the hall. It’s hotter than the hinges of Hades and Kerry flings wide the windows at the
risk of bugs. It’s rather Spartan having no mini bar or coffee maker, but instead all log furniture, fluff behind the
bed, sitting room only in the loo and one piece of stationery. There is a sense of history about the room, a sense of a bygone
age, maybe aided by the lack of modern conveniences, and despite the acid-yellow polycotton sheets.
Cougar Rock campsite is much different than I expected, I pictured vast open spaces and grassy knolls, like the English and
Welsh campsites I remember having walked or driven by in my youth. The tents at Cougar Rock are pitched under breathtaking
and stunning, tall pine trees with an uneven dirt floor. The area is bathed in cool, dappled sunlight and echoes of fellow
campers resound about us. Chipmunks are everywhere and are into everything. I watch them search the neighbouring camp for
food, and am intrigued until the neighbors arrive home so I take up people-watching instead. These people are dressed as if
staying in a hotel, how does one get to stay that clean and neat out here? My feet are already filthy from the dry earth,
and the fact I wore flip flops. Had I been staying here overnight, I would have to have a large enough bowl to soak my feet
before bed. After a tasty supper of spaghetti, while on one is looking, I use the warm cooking water to pour over my grubby
trotters. We build a campfire and toast Smores on twigs, I have Kerry do mine due to my habit of burning everything edible
to carbon. Kelly narrates a campfire story of the night before. With animated gestures and voice he explains how a chipmunk
approached him while he was eating trail mix. I am reminded of a scene out of a Disney movie as Kelly recounts the tale. “Hi
there, li’l fella, what choo doing?” asks Kelly, and a second later he finds out, as the chipmunk, in a flash,
whips the bag of trail mix out of his hand and dashes off, with Kelly in hot pursuit… The chipmunk is chased all over
the camp with Kelly trying to pin down its swag with his foot. On several occasions he fails, but on one last attempt, he
manages to anchor his mix for good, the chipmunk releases its hold, and knowing it is beaten takes to the trees. We laugh
until we are sick; it is difficult to imagine Kelly even, almost, outwitted by something so small… We stay at the camp
until last light, and drive back to the lodge, to find our fan has been delivered as promised. Kerry sets it up for maximum
blow, while I draw a long-awaited bath. I close the windows down to the screens as there are bats flying close by outside
and the last thing I want is bats in the belfry tonight. We leave the curtains drawn and even from the bed, view of the night
sky is amazing, like a million eyes winking down upon us. The dawn is as equally noteworthy, warm and clean in the acid yellow
sheets, I enjoy the sun streaming in, its mild morning heat does not even wake Kerry. Having no electric kettle or tea/coffee
maker in the room I sit and write postcards whilst drinking a sun-warmed bottle of ‘Starbucks Frappacino’ and
use the one and only sheet of stationery to write a letter. I wake Kerry in good time for breakfast and we head down to the
dining room. The Paradise Inn is sadly serviced by too many inexperienced college kids which makes for a tedious and difficult
breakfast and check-out. We are told our room is not prepaid, which in fact it was, and not only do they try and charge our
credit card with the amount at the time, but they later try to charge my mother-in-law’s card a second time (its our
anniversary gift from her).
We commence the drive home directly after breakfast, but not with a brief stop to meander down to Narada Falls. I flip flop
down the incline, after Kerry, to the vista point to view the falls. The mist and spray is better than any facial, and I wish
that the earthy smell of damp moss could be bottled to take home. The morning is so cool and clear and I am disappointed that
we did not plan to climb to Paradise Point now rather than the planned trip with the others at midday yesterday, which we
declined to attempt. I feel Paradise was lost on this trip.
*Paradise Lost , Milton
Footnote: Kelly Jeffrey (Kerry's brother) adds, "And by the way, that was a veteran chipmunk who was extremely crafty and
nimble."
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