Playing Tag with Grasshopper Peak

Clouds hang low enough in the sky that visions of eventually poking out above them dance in my head. The rain ranges from a light drizzle to big fat raindrops. It hasn't stopped raining since CIM I don't really notice the rain much anymore unless it's really coming down. After about four miles into this long run, I'm still perplexed by how my outfit became soaked without noticing.

Armed with plenty of snacks and my trusty running buddy, Rachel, we climb higher and higher into the sky. Grasshopper is always a humbling experience. I call this a run, but only the downhill second half is a run. Our pace is more of a brisk power hike, and as we power up the ridiculous 12-20% grade, I explain that this is actually the easiest way to the top, for my reassurance just as much as hers. It could be much, much worse.

It goes like this: Up, up. Switchback. Repeat.

Today we're aiming for the summit whether there will be a view or not, and hopefully our first of many on Grasshopper Peak this year. For as brutal as the seven mile slog to the top is, this mountain is the highest point in the park and usually offers panoramic views of the surrounding forest and mountains below.

Every little creek is a rushing river. Cascading waterfalls pour from every slope, including some right down the middle of the road. After several dry seasons, it's as if the mountain has awakened from its slumber. The sound of rushing water is often so loud it drowns out the thumping heartbeat I hear in my head.

I stop for a few photos along the way. By the end of the run, I realize my camera will need to spend the next day with the lens popped out so it dries. But it's worth it. The muted daylight makes all the colors pop. For as much as I love sunny days, there's something exceptional about the rainy ones. The wet camera takes some pretty sweet shots too. The image below is unedited and accurately describes this outing.

We reach the final trail junction and spur trail to the summit. Despite pressing my effort to the edge of the red line, I'm still pretty darn cold. Climbing higher and higher, the lookout tower hides in the mist.

No views today. My hands and arms are so cold that my left hand and wrist lose function. Rachel helps me pull an additional layer over my long sleeved shirt. The forecast (and Matt) promised the rain would clear out as our run progressed. As it turns out, the opposite is true. I should know better than to trust that darn weatherman. ;) I will bring more layers next time. We make a quick rush for the top and snap a few photos as the icy wind slices through all our clothing layers.

Rachel C. photo credit.

"You're going to have to draw some mountains in that photo," Rachel suggests. There's no view today, but it's invigorating all the same. Perhaps all the breathtaking views of a clear day aren't what makes this place so special after all.

Rainy day.

Ahh, much better.

We make a hasty jog back down into the shelter of the forest canopy. Blood flow returns to my fingers and I breathe a sigh of relief. Maybe I won't die up there on the mountain today. A small part of me is excited the views were missing because that means Rachel will have to do this again with me later!! I'm not sure if that makes me clever or extremely mean, haha.

Our silly conversations resume as I mention the coffee waiting in the car. Winter long runs always end in coffee or tea.

Before we know it, we've fired up the Subaru and swapped soggy layers for cozy ones. Dry socks, down booties, coffee. Check. Check. Check.  Maybe that wasn't so bad after all.

14 miles, 3:13:31, 3,443 ft. climbing.