Lake Lacrosse Trek {Sip 1: Joy}

Paranoia and anxiety swim laps in my mind the whole drive out. A tireless list of things forgotten, most of them remembered. The sun's too high, the day's too short, we're not ready. Soothing lies from a worried mind, the promise of paralysis, “nothing has to change.” Meanwhile, another ten thousand cells in my body die and are replaced. Erica's confidence drives us forward, “I've never felt better!” Feet on soil, and it's one step after the other.

on the rocks

a feather's dreams

of fledgling's plumes

Leaves & shadows shiver in the restless wind, the rippling water scattering light madly. Old Fir coils around his dead brother's woody bones. Yes, each step brings us farther into the Forest; farther out of self, further into Self. Everything and everyone is dressed their finest: the river's thunderous skirts & ferny crowns; the waxy vines, lustrous and luxuriant; the mossy maples draped in their cascading regalia; the bushes jeweled with berry-gems, even the Devil's Club in its thorny formality. Yes! The dress of right now is by far the finest, and each second is a celebration!

At Nine Stream the trail turns its eyes up and past the slide crossing sprints upward to the pass. We try to match its energy and with typical frailty barely keep ourselves moving forward. Near the end of our climb, we're rewarded with a view of Mt. Skokomish's elegant curves. The elixir of the mountain! The sight is all we need to finish out our day's work.

Make Two Bear late, with smiling exhaustion and ravenous appetites—campsite flush with fresh huckleberry bliss. The early moonlight darkly lights the slope across from our camp. For us, it's not yet risen.