Mt. Rainier

I spent yesterday driving a white Cadillac from Walla Walla to Tacoma in search of the perfect shot of Mt. Rainier. I drove a white Cadillac because I had requested a rental car with an XM radio in order to have lively tunes while pursuing my photographic quest. Apparently in Pasco, satellite radios are only installed in white Cadillacs.

I took a southerly route, stopping in Yakima for lunch where I ate the worst mole I had ever tasted. Granted, in addition to the exotic spices and chiles, one of the key ingredients in mole is chocolate. But only a pinch. This mole tasted like Hershey’s syrup. Chocolate covered chicken and broccoli is not good.

After lunch, I learned the southerly route along U.S. 12 offers no views of Mt. Rainier.
The road cuts through a river canyon and is sheltered on both sides by cliffs thick with Douglas Fir. It wasn’t until I headed north along State Route 7, five hours into my journey, I caught my first view of the mountain, its shimmering glaciers reaching into the heavens.

I continued up the twisted road into the park. The higher I climbed, the deeper the snow drifts became until they reached ten feet on each side of the car. I arrived at Paradise Inn at the base of the mountain and readied my camera. I saw nothing. Mt. Rainier, open and inviting from a distance, was more guarded up close, covering itself in a blanket of mist. Only as the sun fell away did the mountain reveal itself in glimpses through the deepening fog.