SEA 7 - Haystack

SEA 7 - Haystack

Setting off before dawn, following familure roads of the valley,
crossing new bridges and setting in at the old parking lot in the
woods. Taoist thought cites that life is a journey of cycles, as true
as the passage of the four seasons. The earths rotation about a star
as an eternal beat, and yet each cycle builds upon the last as a
spiral of life growing outward. Each modifing tempo and rhythmn to the
eternal beat. The familur gives us comfort, and yet even old steep
trail change each year. Shouldering the pack, the trail lead off into
the fern laden forest, and empty alder baughs waithing from springs
whisper to bring it to life.

Switchbacks make up the tick of the trail metronome. The pacing of
poles keeping time inbetween. The stands of western hemlock, blend
into hues of green and grey, leading the eyes off in a blur, as the
trail keeps it's beat. These second growth stands shadow the few
remaining black spires of an old fire a century in age. Once at the
Snag Flats, the old cedars and Douglas firs tower in their domain. A
lone Raven crows out his prescence, the low tones of his call echoing
amount the stands giving a sence of space.

The switchbacks begin again in ernest, rising up the mountain sides.
Others training for marathon runs descend past me, only to tag the
bottom and meet me upon my return as the make the summit again. As
views cast out towards the valley, the white vail of Tahoma stands to
the south, and the white lace begins to fill the path I follow.

Opening up to the boulder field, a rocky tooth rises above it all. The
familur sight if my first scramble, brings me back to long summer days
of a child. Finding the small lines that lead to the summit. Somehow
todays ice keeps me from raising into it's folds. But it's presence
seems to warm even on a chilly day.

Looking out at the farmlands of the Snoqualmie, snow capped Alpine
wilderness, and the towers of the city by the Sound, I feel calm. Yet
deep inside as I look out wanderlust still inhabits my soul. On the
descent, I see a man hiking up his pace in familur 3 mph pace. Wearing
the same tan desert shirt, and dusty lightweight pack, I know him to
be a fellow Thru-hiker. We talk for 20 mind sharing stories of the
trail, each desiring to return to those free summer days. It seemed a
week separated us along the Pacific Crest, and the stories yet seem to
remain the same. Bidding ado, I follow the footpath to the valley
below, returning to the city domain. But my heart seem to remain,
walking along mountain lines, thinking of high country days.

Along the waters of a Seattle Rain Retreat,
Ridgewalker
山武士
seattlerainretreat.blogspot.com

Sea 6 - Hope In a Canyon of Grey

SEA 6 - Hope In a Canyon of Grey

The rain seems to echo in these canyons. Drounding out all ambient
sounds. Only the rapid hiss of the drops falling upon these man made
rocks. Time slowing to the moment of each drop, stoking the smooth
film that covers the court yard. Here in this innercity plaza, alone
with the rain falling from the heavens, reminders that even within the
deep concrete canyons, nature is her own master. As I look outA, time
speeds up, bring each drop to the rhythmn and the beats of the moment.
A man walks before me on his way, a bus travels by, and the city
unfolds, layer after layer, in it's speeding rythmn, but only I
remain... Watching, observing, the ever present naturalist, taking
notes, filling pages behind glass lenses, always watching and waiting.

The city has been my home for five months, and yet the wilderness has
always been just beyond the horizon. Here in these concrete canyons, I
wait, summers rays just beyond the mark. And as the cherry bloosems
begin to bud, I know time is short and I must begin moving again. The
wanderlust in my soul pulls me closer, with trails and job planned
ahead, I have spent the last few days taking in the City-by-the-Sound.

We live in a time when loss is common, the death of the middle-class,
as retirement, and futures seemto fold. Where many sit and asses their
assests, but do they really know those that are true. In times of
hardship, it is friends and joy that find themselves to be the
greatest of Assest. Illreplaceable by material consernse, they are
what pulls us forward through these times. In concrete canyons and
suburban plains, a generation searches for wonder, laying just beyond
their fingertips.

The sudden burst of wings, flapping and snapping in unison, broken by
the distant sound of a ferry's horn reverberating aginst the glass and
steel walls surrounding. Awoken by a dream, I watch the mass circle
against the sky to land again at the fountains edge, brought to life
by the urban pulse. And yet through these canyon walls, the Sea is
within sight. On this spring day I can smell the salty air of low
tide. The sun marks it's time leading the eyetowards mountain
wilderness, just beyond it's edge.

And through it all Natures presence even within the domain of man,
seems to bring Hope to the Traveller's heart. Even here wonder at life
can find itself... Expression... Nurturing and calling! Follow it, and
the journey will beginonce again... Again, along the long thin line,
walking out the miles to the beat of footsteps of the true mile... The
long mile, home...

Along the waters of a Seattle Rain Retreat,
Ridgewalker
山武士
seattlerainretreat.blogspot.com

SEA 5 - Mid Winter Summer

SEA 6 - Mid Winter Summer

A curious name for a curious time, here in the Northwest. Every year a few weeks after the dawning of a new calendar, the character of the Puget Sound changes. After as many days as one can handle of relentless snow, wind and rain, there comes a time of peace and warmth. When the sun rises above mountains and water, and all seem to return outside from their humble rain holes that they have been held up in. In the warm late Jan/Feb days, it seems the whole city is alive with people getting outside and renewing theirselves to the gentle golden hues of the dancing sun. This is the Midwinter Summer.

Today the mountains beconned, and so a friend and I took to an old trail that has a sense to awaken old muscles and kindle the flame for hiking within. The woods early in the morning still dark and deep, and yet the lure of Mailbox calling forth, we find ourselves like children to the flute player, dawn by an unspoken desire to follow the beat of footfalls upon the forest floor.

Soon I remebered the legacy of this trail,  it holds no mercy. With numbers of 4000 feet of gain in a mere 2.5 miles, it falls in the class of straight up deer path. The years have found some repair and blazes to keep track of the ever changing shifts. But still with resounding comsistancy, the ascent finds itself amoung roots, rocks and fallen logs. And yet through it all, the forest of hemlocks seems to paint the canvese well, with Salal and Oregon grape, brimming from below.

As we make the summit, the views of the mountain begin to pour forth unending. A glinps first taunts me of Tahoma to the south, then the Olympics begin to rise with white laced lines, guiding the eyes across the Sound. This single view seems to shake me. Bellow this gulf between the mountains, I have found myself in a cloud of Seattle City Daze. Almost symbolicly, the fog still drifts along the waters edge, giving the buildings of the downtown, that fantistical effect of the Emerald towers amount the clouds.

Pushing higher the ridge begins to expose itself, in talus fields and harden snowfields. The air is warm, yet windy, while Gorthok and I push higher on. At Ridgecrest, the glacier-clad maiden of Baker dots the horizon, with Glacier just peering over the ridge. As always the elegant lines of DaKoba Ridge and the core of the Alpine Lakes line leads thoughts of high summer days along backcountry meadows, exploring reach after reach.

Imagination and memory are the harvengers of this time, with views unending, as temperatures soar. It is a blessing to those who live below of the beauty that will come. Still the winter will have it's second turn. But for now, the lure of the mountains and clear skies is bringing us all out once more to explore..


Along the waters of a Seattle Rain Retreat,
Ridgewalker
山武士
seattlerainretreat.blogspot.com