Mailbox Peak: A Tale of Two Trails

Mailbox Peak is one of the most popular hikes on the Mountains to Sound, I-90 corridor, yet it is a tale of two trails, one old, mean, and haggard, and another new, attractive, and well-kept. Oddly enough, it's the Old Trail that draws so many hikers to it.

Unfortunately, interminable roadwork (see link to schedule below) has limited access to Mailbox Peak for the past couple of years which means on a beautiful Saturday morning in August, all humanity was making their way up the mountain.  The truly international nature of Seattle's economy was on display last weekend when I went up,  as high tech workers who harken from different states, countries, and continents converged on the mountain.  I felt like I was in a great 60s convocation promoting peace and harmony,  or perhaps a Coke Commercial where the singing had been replaced with an international chorus of grunts, and raspy conversations as determined engineers of various disciplines, sweated their way up to a mailbox 4000 feet above them. For many of newcomers, Mailbox was their introduction to hiking in the Pacific Northwest.  What a terrible first hike for those thrown onto the old trail by "work friends."

Mirkwood:  The view along the Old Trail

The Old Trail is a decommissioned  trace up a nondescript mountain.  Cut by climbers and firefighters who lives depended upon maintaining a high level of physical fitness, the trail goes nearly straight up the mountain, climbing 4,000 feet in 2 1/2 miles through a dark tangle of a former clearcut.  No consideration was given to erosion or aesthetics when the trail was hewn along steep slopes.  Like miners' trails, the Old Trail is a bushwhack of the straightest line possible to its destination.  I rarely say this about any trail, but it is ugly.  The last loggers to clearcut the mountainside left it for nature to heal the gash.  Consequently, a great overabundance of seedlings sprouted up, each competing for sunlight and nutrients.  The result is a dense, unhealthy under-canopy devoid of biological diversity.  Maybe, though, it doesn't matter since the slope is so severe, there is very little opportunity to look up and smell the western hemlocks.

Look for the Diamond Blazes Along the Old Trail.

The trail sign shows the old trail as un-maintained.  It is a mess.  Yet yesterday,  it was busier than the New Trail  The Old Trail drips with machismo.  Prove your burliness to the world, and say, "I went up Mailbox via the Old Trail."

Hikers Spread Out Along the OLD TRAIL

When I went up, Joe, the Handicapper General, was doling out extra weight in the form of waterjugs and cans of food by the official trailhead.  Part of the Mountains-To-Sound Greenway project,  Joe solicited hikers to ferry supplies up the mountain.  When he asked me to carry a gallon of water up, I pleaded old age and negotiated my way down to a can of coconut milk.  "Every little bit helps," he told me as he sent me on my way.   On the hike to the Mailbox, I passed younger and stronger hikers struggling to carry a couple gallons of water to a cache point where the two trails converge and half mile below the top.

The Trailhead Map Shows the New Trail in Red.

The Old Trail begins a little further up the access road.  The New Trail has a trail map emphasizing its safety and advantages whereas the old trail features a warning sign of its hazards.  According to a Seattle Times report last spring, Mailbox Peak  was the worst trail requiring Search and Rescue operations in King County  (See Seattle Times, June 10, 2016).  I suspect this has more to do with number of neophyte hikers on a ridiculous trail than anything else.

When you come out of the woods, the summit still looks a long way off.
Don't be disheartened.  Things are closer than they appear.

While the Old Trail begins on the verdant edge of the forests, things quickly turn gray and dusty.  The trail follows more or less a straight line up the hill.   I found the crowded second growth hemlock held in heat and humidity even at 8AM.     I left my sunglasses and hat in my pack and focused on the trail and diamond blazes on the trees though I only occasionally found the markers helpful.  More typically, the path brought me to the marker rather than the marker kept me on the path.

Along the New Trail

To gauge my progress in a nearly featureless landscape, I used the the altimeter on my Suunto watch. The trail begins around the 900 foot level and climbs to a little more than 4800 feet.  On a typical hike, I use time as my measure of progress   I can normally count on two miles an hour with elevation gain on a decent trail, but I was unsure of the effect of the rapid ascent, and poor footing would have on my hiking pace. Turns out, using my poles and the the lack of any undergrowth on the trail meant my time was about the same as say hiking the equivalent distance over better terrain.  That being said, it was good to see the progress on the altimeter and it encouraged a group with a tired hikers in the depths of Mirkwood.

As you climb, the trail moves south and then mostly east along a ridge line to a final convergence with the new trail perhaps a half mile below the summit.  On Saturday, many of the hikers were clueless about the challenge.  1,000 feet of elevation gain per mile is difficult.  1,600 feet per mile is a gut buster.  Judging by their new boots, beach totes, and Juicy-Juice boxes,  many of the mailbox trekkers were on their first hike.  Generally, their fitness level didn't match the rigors of the trail.  Was this a cruel hoax played by outdoor enthusiasts at big high tech firms to discourage new hikers?  After all, the trails are getting very crowded, and so many of the people on the hill were from some place else.  Can you imagine the conversation around the water cooler?

New Hire:  I would like to try hiking this weekend.
       
 Old Hand:  I know the perfect hike for you, MAILBOX, if you think you're tough enough.

The brand new hikers also fell prey to the handicapper general at the trailhead.  If people said hello, he asked if they would be willing to take up a gallon of water  (8.34 lbs) to the depot at the convergence of the two trails.  I accepted my can of coconut milk, but I met a young firefighter from Arizona, in new boots, who carried up two gallons to the cache.  God Bless him, but I think he underestimated the challenge, as this 50-something hiker chugged past him at about the 3500 foot level.

Removing Graffiti from the Rocks below the Summit

Others I passed carried nothing.  Not even water.  Someone was hydrating with a Juicy-Juice box.  A few were superfit.  Was it my imagination, or did that guy have a German accent?  A part-time mom and full-time Jazzercise instructor went bombing up the hill with her entire family.  She had the dog.   Dad carried the water.  Their son dutifully worked his way up the hill, but his teenage sister told her folks, "Yes, I know I can do it.  I just DON'T LIKE IT!"  Mom, as a fitness expert knew if her daughter could talk that much, she wasn't working hard enough.  While the family got a great workout, I'm not sure if the next generation was inculcated with a love of the great outdoors.  I think the Swift Family Robinsons spent ten-minutes on top, then turn back down the Old Trail.

The Well-Maintained New Trail:  Light in the Forest

When you finally come out of the dense woods, about the 1/2 mile and a thousand vertical feet from the top, you'll get your first glimpse of Mt. Rainier before you head briefly back into the forest.  The trail curves south again into steep meadow.  You can now see the top of the peak, but it still looks a long way off.  Honestly, though, the last little climb up the dusty trail, with sweat stinging my eyes, took maybe ten minutes.   For a few though, it was disheartening to see how much work still needed to be done.

This view makes the work seem worthwhile.

A few flowers decorate the way through the meadow: lupines and Indian paintbrush.  Unfortunately, so did some graffiti freshly sprayed on rocks.  You never see this on trails further from the city.  It's unbelievably thoughtless, and I am at a loss to explain why someone would deface nature the same way they would tag a dirty wall in an urban setting.  Luckily, a good Samaritan saw the vandalism the day before, and hiked in with paint remover and a steel brush to erase it.  As busy as the trail is, I was disappointed other hikers allowed it to happen in the first place.

What's in the Mail?

Once you get to the top, people pose by the Mailbox crammed full of mementos.  Even though I got there fairly early, the summit had a population of a small mountain village.  No one really checked the mail.   Supposedly, there's a register inside the box, but it must be buried by the junk mail.  At any rate,  I would think a notebook would easily fill up in one weekend.

Nearby Rattlesnake Lake and Ridge

A number of peaks are visible from the top of Mailbox. Nearby, to the northwest is Mt. Si.  Due west is Rattlesnake Lake with Ridge above it.  To the south the great majesty, Mt. Rainier, was out in full glory, making the hike seem worthwhile.  What a disappointment it must be to hike up into the clouds.

Along the New Trail

After enjoying the vistas and a light snack on top, I headed down the New Trail, which doubles the distance out, but saves your knees.  I can't say enough to contrast the two trails.  If my ego wasn't so pathetic, I would have taken the New Trail to go up the mountain, too.  It is well built, and the forest it travels through is healthier with more air, light, and life along the way.  Two bridges cross a small mountain stream. Occasionally, views of the valley and distant mountains open up.  If the hike is about the journey, and not proving yourself macho, then the New Trail is by far preferable to the old.
Given its closeness to Seattle, the challenge it represents, and the amazing views from on top, Mailbox Peak will continue to be one of the most popular hikes in the Northwest.  Hopefully, more people will hike the new trail up to the summit as well as down.

The Panoramic Vista From Atop Mailbox Peak

Here are the driving directions from the Washington Trail Association:

Driving Directions

Take exit 34 from I-90. Head north on 468th Ave SE for approximately half a mile until the intersection with the SE Middle Fork Road. Turn right onto the Middle Fork Road. Follow SE Middle Fork Road 2.2 miles to the stop sign at the junction with SE Dorothy Lake Road. Head left onto SE Middle Fork Road and drive .3 miles. Take the turnoff to the trailhead on the right and continue a short distance up the paved road to the paved parking lot with 40 spots and a vault toilet.

Here's a link to the Federal Lands Highways project for ROAD CLOSURES on the Middle Fork Road--the only way into the trailhead.