Nonetheless we were out of the house by ten with low consciousness, but high spirits. I’d heard a fair amount about the view from Rattlesnake Ledge from a co-worker, and was eager to see it for myself. A thirty minute drive on I-90 revealed I wasn’t the only one eager to take in its views. The parking lot was PACKED. Granted, it was around 11am, but needless to say I was a little discouraged to see the area swarming with high schoolers, middle aged couples and their near toddler aged children, a few brave seniors and everything in between.
Strike One.
My disdain must have made the transition to an audible groan because Cassandra was suddenly breaking my thought track and telling me “if it’s this popular, the views must be pretty impressive.” Alright… I’ll believe you. She usually knows best anyway, but I always find myself frustrated when I see other people on MY trails, in MY woods disrupting MY trips into nature. That’s not too self-centered right?I slipped out of the car to let Oliver out of the back while Cassandra ran a quick inventory on the backpack. Sweatshirt: Check. Water: Check. Sunglasses: Check. Camera…. Camera…. Camera… Damn. No camera to speak of. But wait! We’re saved! Shannon had mistakenly left her camera in Cassandra’s glove box! This might not be such an unfortunate oversight after all! We excitedly rummaged through papers, spare napkins and other assorted junk and came up with the miracle camera. We lifted it proudly from its plastic sheath like King Arthur pulled Excalibur from that wretched stone, slid open the viewfinder, turned on the power button and prepared for a photo extravaganza of trees, moss, wildlife and stunning views…. And were greeted only with a flashing red symbol and a “change the battery” message mocking our pitiful attempt at pseudo photo journalism.
Strike two.
A simple shrug and a choice word or two (tastefully omitted for the sake of mother dearest) was all it took for us to get over the slap in the face from modern technology and proceed to the trail head. What started out as a concrete path quickly became an actual dirt trail and proved to be just as crowded as the cars in the parking lot had predicted. Now mind you, I really don’t have that big of an issue being around people, but when you’re constantly twisting a shoulder to avoid people coming down and making moves equivalent to that of an Indy driver to get around slow pokes the issue becomes a little more serious. Throw a beagle into the mix that insists on smelling everything that moves and you’ve got a down right problem. But hey, whadda ya gonna do. We came all the way out here and we sure as hell weren’t about to turn back. We actually started having a little fun whispering to each other little observations about the people sharing the trail with us.
Allow me to pause on this topic and make a point. What is with the recent trend of hikers using poles? Now don’t get me wrong, hiking poles can be a huge asset and save knees and ankles from abusive grades, but I hardly think it’s necessary for all the REI whores in their early thirties on a barely two mile hike up to Rattlesnake Ledge. You aren’t exactly traversing the Adirondacks here. Leave your poles, your Powerbars, and your hydration gum that you paid too much for at home. We get it. Stop trying to prove to the rest of the world how much of an outdoorsman you are. Everyone can tell you’re faking it because you still have your collar shirt tucked into your specialty Mojave cargo hiking pants. And now back to our story…
The three of us (including little Oliver) continued the climb and after about 45 minutes stopped to take a quick breather, and allow a group of obvious tourists that weren’t so keen on trail etiquette to gain a little ground ahead of us when we were amazed to see someone actually running up the trail. And I’m not talking about a 10 year old kid with his backpack bouncing over his shoulders. This guy was shirtless, with running shorts and shoes, and water bottles strapped to his hands and moving up the hill. I’m not sure I could have beaten him in a foot race if I were on flat ground. But then again, I’m hardly an Olympic sprinter. Our mouth must’ve been hanging pretty wide, and our eyes bugging out because a passerby snickered and let us know “that’s the third time that guy has passed me already.” Needless to say I was shocked. I’m in pretty decent shape and love my morning exercise, but really? Who does that? It’s a special person that wakes up in the morning and decides a brisk jog won’t cut it and they need to run UP a mountain at least three times. Wow. I can’t help but admire someone like that just a little bit. On the other hand I can’t shake the nagging remnants in the back of my mind from some comedian that said “You know that health nut? The guy that never drinks, never smokes, eats nothing but carrots, exercises every day and sleeps ten hours a night? Still gonna die.”
Another hour and we peaked. Up until then I had some glimmer of hope that maybe it wouldn’t be quite so crowded at the top. Why I thought that is beyond me, but maybe it was nothing more than a good source of motivation. The ledge itself is HUGE. It must be at least 80’ by 60’ and all of it packed with hikers sharing the same thought we were: Lunch with a nice view. Can’t say I blame them, the view was nice. Rattlesnake Lake below seemed like forever and you could really get a good look at it because the edge of the ledge is pretty much a straight drop. We found ourselves a nice little patch of rock and sat down to enjoy our Filet Mign-PB&J and take in the sights around us.
We got a little more than we bargained for.
The first thing that caught our attention was the teenager sitting in front of us. She had on a tank top, jeans, sunglasses, nothing too out of the ordinary. However what she was doing was anything but. Here she sat, having hiked two miles up an insanely crowded trail to a gorgeous viewpoint, only to stare at her hands as she painted her nails. And it’s not so much the activity itself that astounds me, it’s the forethought that must’ve gone into it. Much like the runner, who exactly wakes up and thinks “today I’m going to paint my nails at the top of a mountain.” Innocent enough I guess but… what?!
Second was the photographer with a death wish. Now that one actually made sense. He had what looked like a very expensive camera, with at least an 8 inch lens on it which he was using to get spectacular shots of the surrounds hillsides, I’m sure. I found myself wondering how necessary it was for him to be standing with one feet teetering over the edge of an 800 foot drop. I realize I’m just a tad bit sensitive to this issue, not doing so well with heights in my own life (hell a step ladder makes my toes start to tingle) but frankly I can’t imagine taking pictures of mountains in the distance would require you to get 4 inches closer to get that perfect shot.
But you know, I suppose neither of those is such a big deal. Not really hurting anyone else, unlike our last offender to the norm. Evil Knievel with the camera had finally moved away from the edge, Oliver had found a comfy piece of ground to settle into, and I was growing more and happy with our decision to make the trek, regardless of the crowds. Pretty sure the sun beaming down on us had a lot to do with that last one.
And then it happened. There’s always one. Anywhere you go these days, there’s always one. You just can’t escape it. It’s become a never ending nuisance. Churches, movie theaters, libraries, restaurants, and now mountain tops. Like an ice pick to the back of the neck a voice crept up on me not so subtlety.
“Hey dude, guess you’re not home or picking up or whatever but uh… just thought it’d be cool to tell you where I’m at. You know that lake off I-90 we go fishing at sometimes, and we look up and see all those teeny tiny people standing up at the top of the mountain? Yeah… well… I’m up here. It’s pretty cool. Anyway we’re headed outta here pretty soon. Should be back around four-thirty prolly. We should hook up and do something. Alright... uh… later, I guess.”
Ugh. Shut up. Please. I’m begging you. Just shut up. For the love of everything holy shut up! Do us all a favor and designate yourself the mayor of shutty-town. I’m not unrealistic, and I don’t expect everyone to turn off their cell phone on one of the most popular hikes near Seattle, but really? You really have to make sure everyone can hear you yelling into your buddy’s voice mail? And what’s more, do you really think your buddy cares that much? I realize the view is pretty impressive up here compared to the second story window of your frat house, but are you that excited that you couldn’t wait until you’re off the ledge? You’re hooking up with whats-his-name around 4:30 anyway! What will you talk about now that you’ve spilled the beans about your day?
Strike three, four, five, six, seven (jackass on the cell phone deserves three of his own)
End of the inning. And pretty much the end of our hike. We took in some more countryside, plowed our way back down to the lake, and enjoyed some much needed quiet time in the grass on the shore. To the lady with the Blue Heeler that had a long tail and was obsessive with his ball: You pretty much have the coolest dog ever.
Please folks, take it from me, when you go out on a hike leave your stupid phones off. Is it really that important? Mine is almost literally attached to the skin on my hip any other time but nobody cares that you made it to the top. So did the hundred other people around you. Get over it.
Until next time…
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