A couple of weeks ago, I went hiking, and it was miserable. I have my tried and true favorites, but I like to mix it up regularly with new hikes. Once summer is here and I can range farther afield, I’ll start doing overnight trips and camping more, and I know there are dozens of stunning places to visit. Unfortunately on this hike I re-learned a valuable lesson about instagram: it very poorly reflects reality.
To be fair, I learned about the Wonderland Trail on instagram, and everything I hear about it says it will be incredible. Franklin Falls, on the other hand, was a vague, wet, crowded disappointment.
First, the weather. I’ve gone hiking in cold, wet snow before. Most of the time I’m under tree cover so it evens out, and I’ve got lots of layers so as long as I stay moving, I can keep warm. This was not the case this time. I walked in slush for an hour before encountering any good tree cover, and even then it was more wet than snowy. Waterproof boots helped, but it’s just no fun.
Then, the road. Because federal employees have been fired en masse, there aren’t enough rangers to maintain roads, camp sites, or bathrooms, so they’ve closed them. Instead of driving up to a snow park and ranging the network of trails, it’s two miles on slushy pavement, paralleling the freeway the whole time, before you get to the scenery.
And the people. I am glad that people have the opportunity to get out and about, but I wish they’d get about somewhere else. Even with the road closure and the bad weather, the trail was well traveled. Off-leash dogs, loud talking, and tromped down snow at the falls just made the wilderness feel not wild at all.
Finally, and this is entirely on me, the freeway is right there. I reached the end of the trail, this frozen falls supposedly tucked away in a stunning glade, and stood observing the dropped packs, the dogs, and what I consider an actual crowd when out hiking. As I stood, nonplussed and rapidly cooling, a loud roar went by overhead, followed by a cascade of dirty brown snow. It arced over the edge of the I90 bridge and floated, a slushy spray of dirt and grease and rubber particulate, into the valley.
Also I found a definitely human poo on the trail.
Not a great hike.
But I try to go once a week regardless and so I rallied and, with not a lot of time to spare, I snuck out to good old Mount Si the very next one. With only four hours to work with, I decided to race to the top, pause briefly for a snack and a hot cup of broth, and then race back down again.
A mile and a half in, it became clear that without fuel, I wasn’t going anywhere fast, so I stopped for my snacks early.
Then, waiting for water to boil, I stopped.
Often when I hike, I have a constant mental monologue going. I think about what’s wrong with the world and my friends and myself, and get a lot of my kvetching done silently (and sometimes out loud) while my body runs on autopilot. If the hike is really good, I’ll get focused on the trail and other concerns fall to the background. But background doesn’t mean stopped. I rarely just stop and meditate, but for some reason, this time, I did. I enjoyed my warm cup of coffee, and my hot broth, and I looked at the blowdowns and the green and the sunshine filtering through the trees.
And for a moment I stopped.
When I started again, I had vastly readjusted my expectations for the day. No peaks for me. I didn’t have time after my pause, for one, and the weather was nice for the first time in months. Like, really nice. Balmy, mostly sunny, with no real wind, and a pleasant scent of fresh air. I got back on the trail and headed for my second favorite spot in that trail network: the overlook on talus loop trail.
If you’ve been up there, you’ll know what I’m talking about. It’s the only place outside of Teneriffe falls trail that crosses boulder fields, and trail crews put in a little bench when they built it. You can sit and look out over North Bend and have a snack and sometimes see mountain goats making their way from there to here.
And if you were there this week, right around noon, and you were veeeeeery very quiet, you might have seen something fun.
I must have spent a solid half hour soaking in some of the early spring sunshine. I wasn’t flashing the mountain the entire time, but I did get a little vitamin D on my DD’s.
Sitting, lounging, sometimes downright lying around on a stone slab on a mountainside, I relaxed for the first time in a while. I can do it in a sauna, which I get to do on occasion, and in the bath, but there is just nothing like feeling the warmth of steady sunshine soaking in. It starts at the most superficial layer and melts into you, slowly warming skin, muscle, until finally your very bones loosen.
At one point, listening to the faraway calls of songbirds, the gentlest whisper of wind through the trees, I thought to myself “I am so happy, I think I could cry.”
I’ve been hiking weekly for well over a year, getting into shape, and planning several very long trips for this summer. And I’m finally ready to start offering hiking dates. Urban hikes of up to three hours (800USD) might involve doing the Queen Anne stairs or an extra long loop at Greenlake. Woodland hikes of around five hours (1200USD) would include me bringing along all the snacks and water we need, and planning for a short stop to picnic. These are social dates only, and of limited availability. They are intended to help me help you get outdoors, to create opportunities for us to deepen our connection, and to help me worry less about being enough as I continue my fitness journey. Still have questions? Ask me at our next appointment and we can make plans!
I am so excited for this summer. I expect it will be full of camping, hiking, swimming, kayaking, sunbathing, and fooling around with my sponsors and patrons. You all are fabulous humans and I am so fortunate to have you in my corner. Things are getting scary out there and being ok has become a radical act of protest. I would not be ok without you, and without the freedom and affection and support you offer.
Thank you.