The mountain shows off its winter glory this morning, the snow glistening under jet trails that crisscross above the summit. I wrote most of Tahoma and Its People from this desk, and have a special fondness for this view of the mountain’s north side. The Willis Wall, Liberty Ridge, and Ptarmigan Ridge, home to some of the mighty peak’s most challenging climbing routes, loom out my window. It’s a good morning to reflect on the mountain and what draws us to it. One of the many things that I love are the stories of peoples’ long-lasting connections to it. Here’s a new one that I’ve just learned.
After a Zoom book talk for a class this fall at the University of Puget Sound, a student emailed me. A friend of her grandfather, a real Mount Rainier old-timer, was eager to talk with me. Would I call him? Of course, I would—how could I pass up an opportunity like that?
A few days later, I reached John Thompson by phone. After introductions, he rattled off stories and anecdotes nonstop for 45 minutes. When I asked if I could interview him, he quipped, “Well, you’d better hurry. I’m 95 years old, you know.” So on a dreary November morning in his Burnett apartment, we sat (masked, of course) at opposite ends of his long kitchen table. His mind as sharp as a brand new ice axe, he spun yarns for nearly two hours while I busily took notes.
John was born in the Edmonds area in 1925, “up in the brush, on some logged off land,” as he put it. He started working at age 12, cleaning chicken coops in Alderwood. He enlisted in the U.S. Army at 17, served as a telegrapher, and returned home in 1946.
By 1954, John and Yolanda had married and were raising a family and building a home in Edmonds. When she read of a 167-acre homestead for sale in the shadow of Mount Rainier though, it piqued the young couple’s interest. John soon flew over the property in a small plane to check it out. Without setting foot on it, they bought the spread for $18,000.
Imagine moving into a rural homestead with two children ages seven weeks and three years old, with only a generator to run the washing machine and a couple of lights. A butane setup powered a water heater, refrigerator, and cooking range. Electricity wouldn’t find its way up the valley for another seven years. Groceries and errands required most of an hour’s drive each way. The “Dude Ranch,” as the locals called it, was the mail carrier’s last stop, and rangers stationed at Carbon River came down to pick up their mail. They also used the Thompson’s phone, which John kept humming with an old Army field set to test and repair the line.
Their new home was originally the school in nearby Melmont, a coal-mining town operated by the Northwest Improvement Company. After the coal bust and Melmont began fading into a ghost town memory, workers removed the top two stories of the school. They then shipped it on the Northern Pacific Railroad line to its present location on the Carbon River Road, 5.5 miles east of the Mowich Lake Road Junction. Reconstructed in 1912 by the Poch family, the original homesteaders operated a store on the ground level, living on the second floor until selling the property in about 1950. Brief ownership by two other parties preceded the Thompson’s purchase.
The years rolled by for the Thompson family at the Carbon River Ranch. Alison and Fred went to school in Carbonado and graduated from White River High School. A favorite memory is Bobcatty, an orphaned bobcat kitten that they adopted and raised for a year.
The mountain magically works its way into peoples’ lives, and it became a family affair for the Thompsons. In summertime breaks from teaching school, John assisted on projects in the park. In one of his favorites, a wind flow study conducted by a University of Washington professor, John used a firearm to shoot down weather balloons when the research ended. Alison worked at Ohanapecosh and Paradise. Fred became the Mystic Lake ranger.
The Carbon River often exceeded its banks, and after yet another winter flood that threatened to destroy the historic ranger station, it was time for a new location. John’s love of wild places and his desire to protect their beloved homestead from development led to his decision to sell the family’s Carbon River Ranch to the National Park Service in 2015. The place they had called home for 61 years now became the Carbon River ranger station.
As the interview concluded, we elbow bumped on my way out the door, making plans to visit the ranger station and walk the property. We postponed the trip a couple of times, the last when John had contracted a sore throat. “I’ll call you when I get on the other side of this,” he whispered hoarsely, “and then we’ll get up to the ranch.”
I called to check on John a couple of weeks later, but he didn’t answer. A few days later, the same result. Concerned, I emailed his daughter Alison. “Jeff,” she replied, “his sore throat turned out to be the final stages of a previously undiagnosed and untreatable neurological disorder. He passed away at St. Joe’s on December 18. But please tell his story, because the obituary will fall far short of the mark when it comes to his love of the valley.”
I’m so fortunate to have met Mount Rainier old-timer John Thompson, to learn about his deep connection to the Carbon River valley, and to share some of his tales. Once again, I find that the mountain is made of more than fire and ice, scenic vistas and raging rivers, mighty old growth and abundant wildlife. It’s made of stories, too, forged by our relationship with the gigantic snow-covered peak that the First People called Tahoma or one of its variations. And I’m eager to hear your stories, too, so please send them along.
In the meantime, keep your boots dry and your spirits high.
3 Responses
Reminds me of the lessons of this last year…Relationships are the core of what matters, to each other, to our experiences of place and time, and to a mountain. Thank you for sharing John’s story with us. XO
What a sweet story, Jeff. Thanks for making yourself available for learning and telling it. That’s how we all get to keep living on.
Eh Brother…Beautiful story that evoked a bit of moisture in my eyes. Your a great storyteller…keep up the good work!