Burroughs Mountain Trail: Sunrise Hike at Mt. Rainier

Mount Rainier's glaciated summit under a lenticular cloud cap, seen from the Burroughs Mountain Trail, with subalpine firs and rocky ridgelines in the foreground under a deep blue autumn sky.

SUNRISE, MT RAINIER NATIONAL PARK:

The sun was just beginning to rise, warming the sky with autumn color, as I set out thinking about the rituals and traditions that tell our story. As I climbed the Burroughs Mountain Trail, each step drew me closer to Mount Rainier and filled my heart with wonder. Breathing in the crisp morning air, I felt ready for the adventure ahead. Early in my journey, a curious deer appeared, its gaze mirroring our dog’s inquisitive nature, encouraging me to pause and fully embrace the connection in the moment. With every twist and turn of the trail, I was reminded of the breathtaking beauty of the Pacific Northwest, feeling grounded in purpose and connection. Each step became a rhythmic, meditative experience, and I embraced the serenity it offered.

Before today’s hike, I drove through darkness, completely wrapped in gratitude for the arrival of autumn. The rhythm of the season runs deep in me, echoing a childhood feeling of “back to school” that once filled me with anticipation. Each winding road felt like a small adventure as I took three detours, and yet the stillness of the early morning was a comforting companion. The promise of bright autumn colors reminded me of life’s simple pleasures. I find genuine joy in the warm, cozy moments this season brings: a warm drink in hand, laughter shared with loved ones. My gratitude extends beyond nature, inspiring me to cherish my relationships and appreciate the small joys of daily life. As I approached the trailhead, the excitement of exploration mixed with an appreciation for the beauty of change, and I wanted to meet each moment fully.

On today’s trail, a thought lingered in my mind: what truly defines our childhood? Is it the things we once prized, or the deeper connections formed through shared experiences? Watching my children move into their young adult lives, particularly my daughter as she steps into motherhood, stirs a deep sense of nostalgia and reflection within me. I’ve come to realize that our most poignant memories aren’t anchored in material possessions but in the love, the experiences, and the interactions we share. The giggles exchanged during simple activities, like building forts or creating Hot Wheels tracks, reveal that the heart of childhood lies in the meaningful moments that help shape who we are. This realization pushes me to build lasting traditions for my own family, teaching them the values of connection and steady shared experiences. As I hike, I carry these reflections with me, reminding myself that what matters is not the destination but the moments that define our lives, the ones we find along the path.

The Journey…

As the first rays of sunlight were just beyond the horizon, I began my hike, the brisk 38-degree morning air filling my lungs with a refreshing sense of vitality. The Burroughs trail unfolded gently, and before long, I was met by a curious deer, its gaze mirroring the inquisitive expression of our beloved whippet (dog) Leo. It stood still, as if inviting me to pause and take in the moment, or it was simply wondering what the heck I was up to. Just a short distance further, I was fortunate to encounter an impressive elk, its powerful form standing against the morning light. It eventually stepped behind a tree, still looking at me, as if to say “you can’t see me, I’m behind a tree.” These encounters reminded me of the deep connections we share with nature and the beauty that reveals itself along the trail. The path was peaceful, guiding me toward the first Burroughs, as the stunning silhouette of Mount Rainier emerged, promising breathtaking views ahead. With each step, I was filled with a sense of purpose, a heartfelt appreciation for the present moment, and an eagerness for the adventure that awaited me.

Reaching Shadow Lake about a mile and a half in, I paused to take in the tranquil scene. The lake, now a smaller reflection of its former self, was surrounded by the bright colors of autumn. The early morning light reflected on the water’s surface, illuminating the trees and mountains that cradled it, creating a picturesque scene that felt enchanting. I imagined a black mama bear and her cub playing in the water, as I had seen in photos from a fellow hiker just days earlier. So there I was, standing on a small bridge that today stayed dry, a quiet echo of the season’s changes. I took a deep breath and let the stillness settle over me. This moment perfectly captured the essence of hiking: discovering beauty in transformation and embracing stillness amid the thrill of adventure. There’s a comforting sense of connection in nature, a gentle reminder of how we, too, move through the subtle changes as time passes. As I readied myself to move forward, I felt a heartwarming sense of gratitude for this journey, understanding that even greater joys awaited me as I continued.

Approaching the first Burroughs, the trail began to rise gently, revealing views that unfolded like the pages of a favorite book. The initial elevation gain felt manageable, yet it gradually evolved into a steady climb that asked a little more of me. Trekking along a ledge, I was welcomed by another awesome view of the milky-green lake in Emmons Moraine, a stark yet beautiful contrast to last week’s familiar hike, with a view from a higher elevation. As I climbed toward the second Burroughs, the world beneath me changed, the forest giving way to high tundra and a wide panorama of glaciers shining in the sun. I paused to take it all in, feeling a weight lift from my shoulders, though perhaps it was just shifting to my legs. The birds fluttering around me seemed to join in celebration of my ascent, guiding me through the tundra and reassuring me that I wasn’t alone on this journey. With every step toward the second Burroughs, a wave of exhilaration washed over me as I inhaled the crisp mountain air, reminiscent of the first breath of winter. I embraced the joy of reaching the second peak before pressing on.

At last I reached the third Burroughs, the wind whipping around me as I stood there in awe. The view was a delightful reward, even as clouds began to envelop Mount Rainier, cloaking its summit in a shroud of mystery. I encountered a lovely couple from Missouri, and we exchanged stories, sharing our mutual appreciation for the earth’s beauty. It’s moments like these that gently remind me of the connections we can forge on the trail, where strangers become friends through shared experiences. As I wrapped up my series of ascents and descents, I unexpectedly came across a curious fox that followed me for a while, pausing in the tall grass, perhaps on the hunt for lunch. We stopped a few times to observe each other, making it a perfect finale to my hike. My journey didn’t conclude with the end of my hike. While driving down from the summit, I was flagged down by a group of elderly travelers from Texas whose rental car had run into some unfortunate trouble. Helping them sort out their trouble filled me with a sense of purpose, reminding me that life, much like this hike, is a series of ups and downs, full of unexpected moments of connection, wonder, and gratitude for the day’s adventures.

Gratitude…

This morning, as I glided down the quiet roads still shrouded in darkness, I was filled with a deep gratitude for autumn, a season that understands us so well. With the equinox behind us, I found comfort in the soothing rhythm of this time of year, reminiscent of those early school mornings filled with crisp air and eager anticipation. September gently nudges us to return to our routines, stirring a muscle memory ingrained deep in our hearts and minds from years past. Each drive to a new trailhead feels like a pilgrimage of sorts, where the solitude of the early morning becomes my companion. As I drive the winding roads, I savor the stillness, sensing that the world is holding its breath, waiting for the sun to rise and color the sky. This drive is less about the destination than about the calm and the change that autumn offers, settling my spirit along the way.

Driving in darkness, I felt the gentle anticipation for the promise of a beautiful autumn morning, as the landscapes transform into a stunning array of reds, oranges, and yellows. I trusted that nature would once again create a masterpiece, inviting me to pause and fully appreciate the fleeting beauty of this season. With the air now refreshingly crisp, it breathes life back into the earth, nourishing my parched lawn with gentle rain and providing much-needed relief. As I drove past many trees, they seemed to reach out, proudly displaying their fiery transformation. With every mile, I could sense the cozy vibes unfolding beneath the darkening skies. I eagerly anticipate the comforting evening fires and warm meals that will nourish my soul. The sights and scents of autumn remind me that change can be beautiful, sparking a deep sense of wonder.

This time of year carries a festive spirit, filled with a sweet anticipation for Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas, each holiday bringing its own special charm and warmth. It also reminds me of how much I’ve always appreciated Kelly’s stylish outfits, especially her autumn looks that evoke the magic of a wardrobe change for a Hallmark movie set. In this season, I find myself reflecting on the blessings we often overlook, such as the genuine laughter shared with loved ones and the simple comfort of cradling a warm beverage in both hands, acting more as a hand warmer than a refreshment. As I drive through the darkness along unfamiliar roads, memories of shared meals and gatherings with loved ones envelop my thoughts, filling my heart with a deep sense of belonging. Autumn is more than a season for me. It reminds me to appreciate the beauty of life unfolding around us. It’s easily my favorite time of year, a moment when gratitude flourishes, much like the leaves that change color, and it pulls me to pause and reconnect with what truly matters.

Reflections…

As I laced up my boots this morning, a thought weighed on my mind, much like the pack on my back: What truly defines our childhood? Is it the material things we once thought mattered most, or is it something deeper and more lasting? This question echoed in my mind as I hiked, watching my kids make their way through their lives. My sons are finding their footing, laying the groundwork for their futures and discovering who they want to be. Meanwhile, my daughter is in the early stages of her journey into motherhood, embracing the joys and challenges of raising her 19-month-old son. It’s clear that experiences, those shared moments and meaningful connections, hold far more value than material possessions. The rituals and traditions we’ve built together are a foundation, enriching their lives and reminding us all of what truly matters. Looking back on my own childhood, I see that the memories that stay with me most come from love and shared experiences, much like well-worn paths of familiar trails.

I remember the perfectly engineered Hot Wheels track my brother and I spent entire weekends perfecting, driven by our desire to create the ultimate gravity-powered adventure. The cars were only part of it. What I remember is the playful banter during our design sessions, the teamwork in solving problems, and how we became so engrossed in our creation that hours slipped away like switchbacks fading into the fog. I can still picture those weekends spent building the perfect fort from propped-up sheets and blankets or carefully arranging dominos. We would spend all day working toward that one fleeting moment of shared triumph, a victory that required our collective effort and perfection. In the end, the things were never the point; the deep connections and the creativity they sparked were, and those became the foundation of our childhood adventures.

“Tonka Land” was our sacred place deep in the woods where all the neighborhood trucks lived their secret lives. We dedicated our days to moving dirt from sunrise to sunset, constructing elaborate sites, and leaving our yellow fleet behind like an abandoned excavation site. The trucks themselves weren’t what lingered in my memory. What stayed was the community we built, the imaginary worlds we created together, and the trust our parents had in us to return home at dusk, dirty but happy, armed with stories that we held close. The real trail markers of my childhood are those consistent, meaningful experiences that shaped my youth, like the hamburgers Dad grilled every Thursday when he had the early shift. I would stand nearby, surrounded by the warmth of the grill, learning the art of timing the perfect flip. In those moments, I felt a deep sense of legacy, belonging, and love.

I hold onto the memories of those unforgettable summer bike rides from Phinney Ridge down Market Street, winding through Ballard and Interbay to reach Mom’s office across from the Seattle ferries. That enchanting place felt like a secret world, filled with a freight elevator, a quirky Coke bottle machine, and the charming Maritime Diner, tucked away in a narrow entrance like a hidden gem. The diner had incredible burgers, perfectly seasoned from years of griddle use. Then there were those perfect summer days when my brother and I carried our two-person raft on our heads like eager adventurers, journeying from Phinney Ridge through Upper and Lower Woodland, crossing Aurora on footbridges, and finally arriving at Green Lake. We drifted in comfort as joggers and bikers endlessly circled the three-mile path. Now, I cherish the photos, journals, family artifacts, children’s artwork, and keepsakes I’ve saved from Kelly, tangible reminders of my family’s legacy. This journal aims to capture “how it felt” in moments that photos and calendars often miss.

Most of all, I hold these memories close. Looking back, our life wasn’t defined by material possessions but by the experiences and the deep emotional connections they created. This time of year, those feelings come alive through the rituals that Kelly and I continued from childhood, blending in our own special traditions. There were those late Christmas Eve nights spent assembling gifts, filling stockings, and placing them at the foot of their beds, giving us precious moments of serenity every Christmas morning. As the kids busily explored their stockings before they could come downstairs, we prepared breakfast, with the soothing melodies of “December” by George Winston filling the air. Snuggled under our sherpa blanket by the fire, we sipped warm coffee drinks and soaked in the warmth and love of those moments. When we felt ready, we would let the kids know it was time to come down, watching them race to the family room, their eyes sparkling with pure delight and smiles that couldn’t be contained. It was a moment of unbridled joy, a mark of the cherished experiences that would stay etched in their family memories, a beautiful chapter in the story of their childhood.

As I continued to reflect on cherished traditions, my heart warms at the thought of cozy mornings in pajamas while watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade and the joy of decorating for Christmas the following day, indulging in leftover turkey sandwiches. I can almost feel the comfort of nostalgic holiday movies playing as we sip hot cocoa stirred with candy canes, and I remember the laughter shared during family road trips as we made jokes and told stories. These moments bring me clarity as I hike through nature, reminding me that the greatest gift I can offer my children isn’t something wrapped in paper or tied up in a bow, but rather the gift of love and those small, consistent, meaningful experiences. By introducing them to rituals and traditions that are uniquely ours, but also theirs, moments unburdened by financial concerns, they can write their own stories, stories that build deep emotional connections and lasting traditions, resting on a legacy that will guide them and their families and shape the framework of their lives. The path continues.

-Ken