I was still coming down from the days hike. Not physically
and not literally, but mentally. I was wrapping my head around the scenery,
replaying it over and over again within the boundaries of my mind. I couldn’t
believe something so dramatic existed here in Seattle’s backyard. The Cascades
had been arcane. When my attention dances away to fantasy worlds, those are the
mountains I’ve always found. When I read Lord of the Rings, the Cascades are
what Frodo and his rough crew trek through. Not New Zealand, but, apparently,
Washington. Those mountains on the Seattle horizon are everything mountains are
supposed to be. Jagged, ragged, and protruding from Earth with an urgency. Like
frozen, wind-whipped waves. Slanted slabs flaring out of alpine lakes at
intense angles. Each distant peak a dark star in the day sky. The peaks were
frothy, the slants were serene, and the mountains themselves? They were wicked.
Transcending over it all, dizzyingly, Rainier was
in the distance. I could feel Rainier’s presence as I stood atop a small peak,
yoked to the earth, looming over me. No matter the distance, if you can see Rainier
you can feel it. It’s similar to the look and feel of a full moon in the
daytime. As if it’s a backdrop and the world is the stage, so immense that it’s
not even real. It looks like a projection or, perhaps, a giant cutout someone has
propped up against the horizon. The mountain sits there, with white hair, just
watching. Quietly waiting. Watching.
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The view had been the same one I’d seen
photographed in a thousand adventure magazines, yet it was still a hundred
times better than that. It hadn’t been what I’d expected to see only an hour
and a half out of Seattle and I’m still quite shocked. It was incredible,
hiking of that quality lying so near a city as large as Seattle, and it wasn’t
completely overwhelmed by the masses either. I suppose there were so many
peaks, so many little secrets and Easter eggs to be discovered, that the hiking
wealth could easily be spread around. For me, it was love at first hike. It
made me want to revive manifest destiny. And, when I crested that one tiny
summit in the midst of the field of mountains, all I could think was
‘everything I’ve done in life has been worth it, because it got me here, to
this view’. Being up there I had wanted to be nowhere else. My breath had been
taken, and I didn’t really expect it to be returned anytime soon.
Juke Box and I had climbed one of the countless
hikes that disappear skyward to secret lakes nestled in the mountains. It was a
steep climb, but absolutely worth it as we laid out next to the clear, cool
water. It was pooled between two peaks, perfect for swimming and drinking the Scuttlebutt
beers we’d packed up the mountain. I was grateful that Juke had taken the time
to bring me here. It was nice being able to have a little bro-time for a while.
It keeps a guy sane. I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with women, but,
when I spend too much time with them I tend to go a bit insane. It seems I
always meet up with the opposite sex while traveling. That’s just how it works for
me. It’s not often I walk into a bar somewhere and walk out with a bromance you
know? It’s always Tinder or meeting a girl out on the town. Long story short, I
was pretty thankful for some chill time in the mountains without feeling like I
had to impress someone.
Even so, earlier, before the hike, and knowing it
was going to be my last night in Seattle, I’d arranged to meet a girl later that
night. This would be the last chance I would be able to see a girl in this
capacity before work in Alaska began and, needless to say, with 3 months on a
boat waiting ahead of me, I was pretty interested in making it happen with a
girl that night. Juke knew of my plans and asked me if we should get started
down the mountain around five or six since it was a bit of a hike back to where
the Mini Cooper was parked at the trailhead. I thought about it.
We were laying in the sun, on a rock slanting into
the lake, and we’d just climbed down from the peak behind us which had had a
360 degree view of all the mountains in the area around us, including Rainier.
I’d gone for a swim over to the small island in the middle of the lake. It was a
hot day and the lake was cold. The sun was out and the beer was good. I really didn’t
want to leave. Somehow the thought of one last night with a girl had been
dampened. It wasn’t as important as it had seemed that morning. Somehow, I’d
lost my sense of urgency. I’d wanted to tell him ‘forget the girl man, the
world’s fucking me better right now than she ever could’. Somehow I didn’t say
it. I should have, but I didn’t. And I’m typing it now, so that’s close, right?
I was probably too afraid to sound like a fluff if I said it. People don’t talk
like that in the real world and it scares me sometimes because I think like
that a lot. Like a poet. Not that I’m a poet, but sometimes I think
whimsically. I’m afraid to talk like a poet though. I don’t like them, but I
guess I’ve never met a legit one... Still, I should have said it and, to be
honest, I regret not staying at that lake.
The sun was going down over the steep mountains as
we hiked out. Looking up at the sky I knew it was beautiful. I knew the whole
sky would be afire tonight and the view from the top of the mountain would have
been breathtaking. It was sad leaving. But Juke Box had work the next day and I
had a girl to meet. I just wish we could have stayed the night. Camped out to
watch the sky put a show on for us over that little lake. I wish we would’ve
done that. I wish I would’ve let the world fuck me. I prefer stars to ceilings
anyways.
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I don’t know how the citizens of Washington have
managed to keep all this on the hush. I don’t know how they’ve managed to hide
the fact that there is the most amazing, endless hiking right around the corner
from their spot on the sound. The only conclusion I can come up with is that the
people of Seattle are all required to sign a contract stating ‘I will tell no
one, friend or foe, of the treasures we hold’. I’ll probably never be allowed
into the club merely because I’ve typed this out. Regardless, kudos to them. I
can’t believe it still. I can’t believe how good it was and I can’t believe
I’ve never heard a lick about it. They’ve got some discipline, and skill, to
keep it all out of the national eye. Props. I’ll be back, don’t think I won’t.
You’ve captured my attention if not my heart Seattle. Thanks, a little galvanization
always helps the cause.
Be happy,
Beacon
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