I visited Seattle for the first time a few weeks ago and took an early drive out to Mt. Rainier. Having never been to the Pacific Northwest, I was immediately struck by its palpable sense of mystery, born from the fog in the hills and the endless expanse of trees.

We decided to hike the Paradise loop, which starts at the visitor center and quickly ascends straight up the side of the mountain. Even at the starting elevation of 5,400 feet, there was constant dew on the ground.

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Given the elevation, we were literally hiking inside a cloud, watching wisps of fog move silently through the trees.

As we continued our ascent, we climbed beyond the treeline. Here, the landscape became rocky and sparse, as the harsh conditions prevented plants from growing.

I didn’t know at the time, but Mt. Rainier is an active volcano with a history of regular activity, the most recent occurring less than 100 years ago.

We reached the summit after a 1,300-foot vertical ascent, where the temperature had plummeted from 60 degrees at the start to the 30s, with light snow blanketing the ground.

Poor visibility at the top robbed us of a view. Luckily, after an hour of navigating rocky trails, we descended below the clouds into a world of incredible vistas.

We found alpine streams with some of the clearest water I’ve ever seen, winding through meadows of beautiful mosses and alpine plants.

Finally, the sun broke through. Nearing the end of the hike, we were treated to clear skies, revealing stunning views of the surrounding mountains.

Mt. Rainier is famous for its alpine meadows and flowers. While we visited in the fall and not the spring, the native grasses were still stunning in their own right.

Those tiny alpine streams we saw earlier had grown significantly, merging into rivers and waterfalls. We had seen the entire life cycle of a river begin.

As we reached the end of the trail signs of humanity began to reappear.

I have been thinking about this hike for weeks. The scale of the mountains, the plants, and the weather (we experienced all four seasons in one day) was truly profound. It was one of those times I felt deeply connected to nature, appreciating both the power of the earth and my own small scale in the world. There’s an energy to that environment, and it isn’t just the magma below your feet.