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After a fairly lazy, but nicely relaxing labor day weekend we decided to top off the holiday by hiking up to Camp Muir - the stop-off point for climbers who plan to summit Mt. Rainier. The clouds burned off as we drove to the national park and an iffy day turned out to be absolutely gorgeous. Equipped with day packs and trekking poles we worked our way up the 4.5 miles from Paradise to Camp Muir. My cousins, the marmots, were out enjoying the sunshine and tender grass - pretty much ignoring the hikers passing painstakingly by. The whole face of the mountain seemed to be covered with groups of climbers who had probably forked over quite a bit of money to pay for the bored-looking guides. The wind picked up as we left the paved trail, but the sun and the exertion kept us warm enough. I was a bit nervous about the glacier, but once we got past the icy bottom, the snow made gaining footing a bit easier. As we neared the 10,188 ft mark the air became markedly thinner and colder. Four hours after setting out we were shivering next to the campstove as we waited for our pasta, which was reluctant to boil at such an altitude. I crawled under a rock to block the wind until we found out that there are shelters available to the public and piled in one to finish our meal. Clouds started to form around the top of the mountain, but from Muir we could see forever. Mount St. Helens and Mt. Adams towered in the distance as a thunderstorm began building in the West. Warm and full, we began walking, skiing, sliding back down. Once we reached the main trail the wind died down. Most people had left the mountain by this time, so we pretty much had the place to ourselves. Long, pink sunrays danced across the valley as the sun slowly settled behind the mountain making the verdant surroundings really look like Paradise. Maybe I'll make it to the top someday - although I don't know if they make ice axes that would fit my paws - but until then, this is the highest I have been apart from an airplane.