Mt. Rainier NP: Where the Mountain Makes the Rules.
I’ll be honest: I never thought I’d actually hike Rainier. I’d read all the horror stories; climbers swallowed by crevasses, rescued from whiteouts, or worse, never making it back at all. At 14,410 feet, it’s not just a mountain; it’s a glacier-dripping beast armed with avalanches, rockfall, and hypothermia. Over 400 people have died trying to summit. Climbers say standing on top feels like a spiritual awakening — but first, you have to survive.
And yet… here we were. Because if this Pacific Northwest adventure didn’t include Rainier, it just wouldn’t feel complete. I wasn’t strapping on crampons or ice axes (don’t worry, kids), but I had my sights set on The Skyline Trail… the park’s signature 5.5-mile loop. Wildflowers, glaciers, John Muir-approved alpine gardens. Most people hike it counterclockwise for a “grand reveal” of the mountain. I went clockwise instead, because I wanted Rainier staring me down the whole way, like she was silently judging my snack choices.
The Launch Pad
We pulled into the Paradise Visitor Center lot around 9 a.m., the place already buzzing with summit expeditions. Four different climbing groups were gearing up: ropes, helmets, serious faces. I stopped one team and asked about their climb — their energy was contagious, like kids at Christmas who just happen to be carrying ice axes.
Alan filmed me at the start as I stepped past the stone stairs etched with John Muir’s words: “The most luxuriant and the most extravagantly beautiful of all the alpine gardens I ever beheld.” No pressure, right? Clouds toyed with us — one moment Rainier was a queen on her throne, the next she’d ghosted behind a thick white curtain. People spend entire visits here without ever seeing her. Alan pointed the camera toward the peak and said, “She’s going up there.” Cue nervous laugh.
Climbing Into the Clouds
The first stretch is a paved path — gorgeous, but brutally steep. Rainier makes sure you earn entry to her alpine gardens. Within an hour I’d climbed 1,000 feet and caught up with Collin, a young TV anchor from Columbus, Ohio, who also “just happened” to hike mountains in his downtime. (Apparently, God had ordered me a perfect trail buddy off Amazon Prime.)
Collin and I clicked immediately — we’d both recently climbed Mt. Whitney, we talked news careers, mountains, and life, in between gasping for oxygen and pretending we weren’t dying. Pro tip: the views are so absurdly stunning, you almost forget you’re working that hard. Almost.
The Big Reveal
By 11:30 a.m., we reached the top. A crowd of 20+ hikers gathered, cameras ready, holding collective breath for Rainier to play peek-a-boo with the clouds. When she finally did, it was like a slow striptease — glaciers flashing in the sun for just long enough to make everyone cheer. My video actually has me exhaling loudly — I hadn’t even realized I was holding my breath.
Collin grinned: “Let’s keep going to Glacier Vista.” Uh, yes please.
That last stretch was trickier — a washed-out shale scramble, slippery footing, no guardrails. But suddenly, we were standing on rock and ice above the treeline. The glacier wasn’t just white — it shimmered blue and pink like stained glass frozen in time. It never melts, and in that moment, it felt like being allowed into a sacred space.
The Way Down
From Panorama Point we began our descent, winding into Paradise’s wildflower meadows. Marmots whistled from the rocks, waterfalls spilled in the distance, and the jagged Tatoosh Range cut the horizon. Two rangers on their lunch break handed us a wildflower guide so we could ID the pink paintbrush, lupine, and avalanche lilies bursting everywhere. August here is nature showing off.
Back at the van, Kodi nearly knocked me over with excitement. Alan was snapping photos nearby, then ushered me to the visitor center for my precious passport stamp (yes, priorities). The place was packed, complete with a movie theater and sensory exhibits — part museum, part amusement park for nature nerds.
Chasing the Sunset
Just when I thought the day was done, Alan had one more ace: “Let’s drive to Sunrise.”
Sunrise is the highest point you can reach by car on the other side of the mountain. We wound past Reflection Lake (so mirror-perfect it should be on a screensaver) and climbed to the lookout. Only two other vans were parked, their owners also waiting for Rainier to drop her cloudy veil.
We lingered, cameras ready, until finally — at 7:30 p.m. on our way down — she emerged. Glaciers glowing gold in the setting sun, the entire mountain blazing like it was lit from within.
No words. Just awe.