NW OUTDOOR GROUP: Paradise & Longmire, Mt. Rainier

I had snowshoes on my feet this weekend!  I got to traipse over 24 inches of snow without sinking to the bottom of the hiking trail.  It felt like walking on water.  Especially because I was the only one in the NW Outdoor Group to rent them; everyone else around me was sinking to their knee-caps in the snow while I seemingly floated over the trail.

I originally rented them because I was the only one without hiking boots (no hiking boots in the snow!); I wore the closest thing I could find to hiking boots: raggedy-ass sneakers.  I thought it was going to be fine -- clearly, I haven't hiked a lot.  I mean, I knew there was going to be SOME snow and I thought that if I wore enough foot warmers (they were double stacked in my shoes, thank god) I would get through it  but that thought started to vanish once the car started the climb up the mountain; the delicate powdered sugar tree branches began to look increasingly Siberian the higher the car climbed.  The tree branches were sagging, exhausted by the load and the piles on the ground began to grow.  Pretty soon the piles became crusty, white walls barricading us in as we drove the final stretch to the parking lot.

Once we parked "we" started changing into our hiking shoes.  At this point I'm starting to panic a little bit, and I'm feeling like the naive country mouse.  I was just getting to know the guys I was hiking with, and I wanted to give a good first impression.  In my head I'm like, "Seriously, Noal?!  You're hiking on the mountain and it's barely spring.  I mean, you can see the snow on the mountain from Tacoma.  Geez."  So while everyone else was putting on their tough, leather boots I began to amend my shoe situation in the only way I could: putting toe warmers in the feet of my well ventilated sneakers.

I do this, though, behind the screen of my backpack -- I want to delay revealing my silliness for as long as possible.  I had accepted that my feet were going to get soaking wet and freezing cold, but they didn't!  The sneakers got soaked, of coarse, but my feet stayed warm and dry!  How, you say?

Plastic bags.

The ranger, after recommending I rent snow shoes, told me to stop by the gift shop and beg for plastic bags to put my socked feet into; I didn't even hesitate.  She - was - my - savior.  I looked homeless on that mountain with the green plastic spilling out of the cuff of my pants, but it was worth it.

The whole trip was delightful -- the sun was out, it was breath taking from every angle, and my new friends were not incredulous over my hobo-chic hiking boots.  Yay!  I get to keep my membership!