Kristi called me on Thursday night. "Hi Steve," she said. "What are you doing on Saturday?"

Hmm. Those kinds of questions always make me suspicious. Why can't the person just come out and say what he or she has in mind? Now, I'm stuck in quandary: if I say I've got no plans, I could be roped into some potentially disastrous activity, like helping to move a grand piano down a flight of stairs. If I say I'm busy, I could miss out on the event of a lifetime. What to do? I decided to brave misfortune and picked option one.

Turns out Kristi wanted to go for a hike. How pleasant, I thought. A nice little stroll in the forest. Fresh air, trees, a little peace and quiet... Kristi read the description of the hike for me, but I was already imagining how nice it would be to take a little nap in the shade of a hemlock. Something about Granite Mountain. "Sure," I said. Zzzz....

Kristi came to my place early on Saturday. She brought a small backpack, a belt pack, and some bagels. I contributed two water bottles in addition to the two she had packed, and we hit the road.

We took the interstate up into the mountains and soon found ourselves at the trailhead. It was a gorgeous, sunny day. No wind, shining sun, and shady trees beckoning just beyond the mass of bright cars in the parking lot. Let's hike!

The trail was a nice path winding through the woods. I quickly engrossed myself in the ecosystem around me, marveling at the variety of lush green plants. The novelty of nature quickly wore off, however, as the trail made a subtle upward turn, and we started up the mountain. At this point, I began to get an inkling of what might lay ahead. I also started to get the feeling that we didn't bring enough water.

Like I mentioned earlier, it was a hot day. When we stopped for the occasional rest or picture, flies, of the nasty biting variety, immediately besieged us.

After about an hour of hiking the trees thinned out and we found ourselves in a beautiful meadow, high above the highway. Flowers were everywhere: big ones, small ones, and every imaginable color. And the trail just kept going up. The mountain curved away out of sight above us, tantalizing us, making us believe the top was just a few more minutes away.

We kept going up -- enjoying the sunshine, the greenery, and the ever-improving view. We also were carefully enjoying every sip of water. We were both aware that we didn't have quite enough.

After about 2 hours the trail deposited us in a saddle between two peaks, where we found a beautiful lake. This was the Alpine Lakes Wilderness, after all. The trail didn't stop here, however, and we could finally see our goal. Looming another 500 feet above us, on top of a giant mountain of boulders, was a lookout tower. I wondered who put the boulders there but Kristi couldn't provide any answers.

A short while later we came upon snow. Snow! In the middle of August! I wondered if the patches we had come upon counted as glaciers. They certainly weren't that big, but they were probably going to survive the summer. That's got to count for something.

We tried bypassing the snow and ended up having to scramble around and over several large boulders. We rejoined the trail and slogged through the dirty slush.

More switchbacks awaited us after the snow. With the top in sight we made quick work of the rest of the trail and finally found ourselves stranding astride Granite Mountain.

The views were amazing. To the south sat Mt. Rainier, presiding over the lower mountains around it. To the north was range after range of low peaks, with deep lake-filled valleys in between. We parked on the rocks, ate bagels with pesto-garlic-cheese spread, and baked in the sun. There were about 10 other people at the top and quite a diverse range of ages.

So far, it had been a great hike. The exercise and aesthetics combined perfectly. I was hot, sweaty, tired, and happy. I was also terribly thirsty, out of water, and by my best estimate only halfway finished. We still had to hike back down.

We signed the log ("Sunny and clear. Wish we'd brought more water.") and started on our way. We made good time as gravity coerced us along. I tried my hand skiing down a bank of snow in my boots and was moderately successful.

The sun continued to beat down on the thirsty adventurers. The occasional stream would tease us but we continued, thoughts of slushies and root beer pulling us onward. After an hour we reentered the forest -- but the shade provided scant relief. Little was said as we strode quickly down the trail, wanting to get to the car, to the highway, and then to the first convenience store we could find.

The return to the car was maddening. We could hear the sound of the highway growing ever louder, and kept thinking the trailhead was right around the corner. The path just continued on, twisting through the greenery.

Finally we broke out of the forest into the shiny jungle of parked cars. Our car was an oven, but we braved the intense heat and drove back onto the highway.

20 miles later I was savoring a tropical punch slushie and an ice cream headache. Pain had never felt so good.

What a start! But so much for "a nice little stroll in the woods". Lesson One was well learned. My current hiking guide describes Granite Mountain like this: "A leading cause of Thighus Fryus among Snoqualmie Pass hikers, the Granite Mountain trail starts steep and stays that way." Needless to say, this isn't an ideal beginner's trail.

It's important to know what you're getting yourself into, to make sure you can handle the demands of nature (I was lucky to be in decent shape) and above all, to make sure you're properly equipped (not so lucky here).

I was determined to make sure I never succumbed to trail thirst again, and purchased a 10-liter MSR deluxe dromedary bag. Plenty of water, and it makes a great pillow. I christened the bag Betsy, and we enjoyed several adventures together (including a four-day trip to the San Juan Islands where she made for a superlative pillow). Unfortunately, Betsy is no longer with us. Find out what happened to her in Lesson Two.