Out into the Wilderness

It doesn't take very long in the Pacific Northwest to find a trailhead and start hiking. I could go about two miles up the road and walk through the local watershed preserve or I can do what I did this morning and drive about an hour until I'm just past North Bend. There in the shadows of the central cascade mountain range, just a few miles shy of the not so grand summit of Snoqualmie, sits the trailhead to Annette Lake. Like so many of the other local trailheads in the area, this one tracks into the second generation forests of the northwest. Pine and Cedar trees tower over the rocky landscape. Moss grows on most of the rocks and you can just hear the fall of water over the highway that isn't as far away as you would like. But it doesn't matter because the car and the highway and all the noise of civilization fall away, muted within the turns and twists of the trail.

The trail goes up, skirting along the mountainside, gaining elevation faster than I had thought it would but not difficult enough to have to stop and gasp for breath. I keep going, eyes on the uneven trail as my dog Sam leads the way, pulling me by the leash until I have to bring him back to heel and we start up again. His high energy subdues itself after about a mile: he finally admits defeat and realizes that I'm not going to let him do anything other than walk with me. I know that there is a lake at the end of our climb and that we'll play once we get there. For now he can learn about walking and being bored.

I've brought my journal with me and I look forward to sitting somewhere along the water's edge and writing. I don't have any thoughts about what that will be other than to try and describe for myself what I will be feeling as I sit and look over the lake that has yet to be seen. Up the trail goes, through the brambles and rock landslides. As I reach the top of the grade, I begin to see sunlight catching the brilliant green of the ferns. The path levels out and there is surprisingly little underbrush. I can just start to see the sparkle of water through the trees. It has taken about an hour and a half to reach the end of the trail. As we near the lake, I can hear the wind up in the treetops. It sounds like quite a gust and a warm breath of air reaches me down on the trail. I take Sam off of his leash near the water and he bounds into the lake like a fish out of water. The gusts of wind find us but there is nothing foreboding underneath the cloudless sky. As Sam fetches sticks in the shallows, I watch as a particularly large gust of wind pushes along the lake, drawing a fine mist of water up at least fifty feet into the air, twirling and twisting into a translucent cloud that disappears along the far shore. I have never seen such a thing and it makes me smile in wonder.

Sitting there on a log near the water's edge – I write. The moment moves through me onto the page. There is no tomorrow or yesterday, just that moment and the gratitude that fills my heart to feel the sun on my face, to feel the breeze in my hair. There is relief and release as I breathe the present moment. I am so happy that I have come.

Out in the wilderness, I find myself quite easily.