I am a sentimental creature, by nature. This is the culmination of that sentimentality.
I assign meaning to little things, overthink gestures and comments and actions, and see memories in the smallest of things. I save postcards and greeting cards – I’ve got a huge stack of them, going back 7 or 8 years, in fact. Yes, if you’ve sent me a card anytime since I’ve been in Oregon, there’s a good chance it’s flying to Ireland right now.
Some of the things I save have deep meaning. A faucet handle from when I was in a Brazilian detention center, for example, has deep meaning. Some of the things I save do not have deep meaning. A neat looking snail shell that I’ve had on my desk, for counter example.
Some things have deep meaning that needs to be left in the deep. Consigned to the past, and not carried forward into the future… regardless of how deep the meaning may be. Anchors to that which came before, that simply don’t aid in the fact that this ship is no longer anchored there, and is instead heading out to sea.
<Editor’s Note: One of Ben’s favorite quotes is from someone named John A. Shedd – “A ship at Harbor is safe… but that is not what ships are built for“. It seems appropriate to include here, thanks to his current metaphorical course>
Burning anchors is hardly advised, but in this case that’s exactly what I did. A box of Memories that shouldn’t be kept was carried with me, along with some firewood, camp chairs, and an axe, to Collins Beach out on Sauvie Island. The sand was prepared and cleared of anything flammable, a nice log cabin fire was made, and memories were shared before the physical memories were burnt. Old love letters, paintings, drawings, and other things that reminded me of a different life that I’d lived… hopes that I’d had for an alternative course that my life could have taken.
The memory sharing didn’t go quite as well as I’d hoped, but it was… almost cathartic. I learned an important lesson (that I’ll keep personal, for the time being), and had the opportunity to grow as a person… even if it wasn’t in the manner that I’d hoped for when I set this plan in motion.
It was an ending, in any case, with all the memories safely disposed of and left as buried ashes in the sand of the beach.
Link to the history of the “Ships at Harbor” quote – it’s interesting, and involves some very impressive persons!
Just a quick post, but a fun thing that not many people know about my home in Wilsonville – I can see the stars from my bedroom!
Well, okay. They’re not really stars, they’re those cute little glow in the dark stars that you can put up on the ceiling.
But you know what? It’s the little things in life that make the biggest difference. The fun of the mundane, and the simple good that we experience and pass on. For me, getting to fall asleep every night staring at constellations only visible from this one vantage point was one of those simple goods.
Thursday, Friday, and Saturday – 14-Sept-2023, 15-Sept-2023, and 16-Sept-2023
I absolutely adore the North Cascades and the Alpine Lakes Wilderness.
Truth be told, I’m not 100% sure what the official boundaries on either of them are… but at this point I’ve come to just assume that everything in the general “North of Mt. Rainier” region is the North Cascades, which I’m pretty sure is accurate. So I’m not going to quibble over details in this case, and simply enjoy the opportunity to explore the wilderness.
I took three days for Spectacle Lake, with Sunday left untouched to unpack and decompress – Leaving on a Thursday morning to help avoid the crowds, and giving me a chance to grab some nice breakfast sandwiches for the drive on my way out of Wilsonville.
The drive itself? Lovely – long, relaxing, and calm… an advantage of heading up toward Seattle in the morning on a Thursday. I drove, listened to music, let my mind wander, and soon enough I was parking at the trailhead and forging into the wilderness.
The first evening I set up camp near what I expected to be a small, unnamed lake on the trail up toward spectacle. I was a bit surprised, looking at the map, that it didn’t have any campsites nearby… but I figured that was because it was fairly close in to the main campsites… or, that people simply didn’t mark the sites down as such.
I arrived a bit before sundown, took the small game-trail off the main route to the lake, and started setting up camp.
Or… trying to set up camp.
I was successful, thankfully, but I did realize why it wasn’t listed as an official campsite – while there were quite a few good spots, the “lake” itself wasn’t really much of an open-water lake, as much as a large mud pit with a small puddle in the middle. And by “mud pit”, I mean “my poles sunk 3+ feet in when I was probing the ground”.
I was careful, making sure to probe and confirm that my campsite was firm and secure, and had myself a nice dinner before heading to the incoming stream to fill up on water for the day ahead.
The incoming stream was where I let my guard down. I hopped down to the stream from the embankment, and found out that the “streambed” that I was hopping to was, in fact, another mud pit. A mud pit that I sunk hip-deep into before I caught myself on the embankment.
Kind of reminds me of that time I slipped into a randkluft on the trail to Elk Meadows…
Thankfully, I did catch myself fairly quickly, and was able to haul myself out of the muck and mire without any major hassle. I was quick enough that the mud didn’t soak fully through my pants, and my boots didn’t get any grime inside them – I stripped the muddy gear off quick, changed into my spare pair of pants, and proceeded to filter my water from higher up on the embankment.
The next morning dawned to frozen mud pants.
I mean, that was the plan, so I’m not unhappy about it at all – by leaving the muddy pants out to freeze, it kinda separated most of the gross and grime off… I was able to roll them up and lash them to the outside of my pack once the morning sun thawed them out (which happened as I snacked on my breakfast and sipped coffee), with them being servicable if not actually clean.
I ascended, slowly but surely, past the lake, through a burn, and up the steep portion to Spectacle Lake itself. I took my time, enjoyed the views… and hustled a little bit, to make sure that I was able to get a good campsite!
The hustling paid off exceptionally well – when I arrived, I passed a group who was just heading out… who mentioned that they’d just left the prime spot on the lake! The campsite right at the end of the peninsula sticking out into the alpine lake, with views on basically every side.
Legitimately, I couldn’t have asked for a better campsite. I set up the tent, had a snack, read my book… and realized that it was still only 11:00 in the morning.
So… I stretched out, and headed upward into the mountain passes surrounding the lake.
Something about that phrase… “into the mountain passes”… it just sounds so excellent, doesn’t it? It sounds like something from Lord of the Rings, or one of a hundred other high fantasy books that I grew up reading. Back then, in middle school, I always wanted to be some grand explorer… maybe a mad scientist some days, maybe a space captain others, and at least once or twice I wished I was a Jedi…
But oftentimes, that explorer forging into “the mountain passes past the cities and above the clouds”.
I’m that explorer, now.
Kind of neat to think about, isn’t it?
Anyways, I forged onward through the passes above Spectacle Lake.
Tying back, I’ll just say this – if there’s a spot in Washington that Mountain Trolls would live, it was that pass. Turns out, part of the Pacific Crest Trail runs past Spectacle. And, that part of the Pacific Crest Trail had actually been blasted out of the rock with dynamite – something I became quite aware of as I noticed blast scars, drill holes, and other beautifully unnatural rocks.
It was neat – and almost tempting to move my camp into the interesting little campsites that’d been literally carved and blasted from the rockfaces surrounding me.
I pressed on – exploring, resting, reading, and noshing on snacks.
I turned around when it felt right, and made my way slowly and carefully back to camp; not wanting to overdo it on my knees by adding an extra rushed thousand feet to my elevation for the day. I got back just before sunset, with the perfect opportunity to watch the sky as the sun dipped below the horizon.
Then? More reading, a bit of a nap, and a long quiet opportunity to stargaze. There were a few teams around me, sure, but thankfully everyone seemed to be on the same page regarding noise (or more accurately the lack thereof). The stars wheeled, I pondered, and then I slept.
The next day broke beautiful, just like the previous day.
Breakfast was lovely, the sun shone perfectly, and the hike out was easy. I took my time, read a bit, and even took the opportunity to pack out some trash – a few hats that I found, some socks… even a partial swimsuit that I found in a pika (sorta like a small gopher) hole!
And, turns out, that “trash” would be pretty impactful to my hike out! As I descended from the lake, I passed a fair number of people – every so often I’d run into a group who seemed like the folks who’d want a new hat, so I’d ask them if they’d like one of the ones that I’d found.
Now, keep in mind that most of the trash I’d accumulated was pretty gross… but the hats themselves were actually quite nice. I’d asked around the lake to make sure they didn’t belong to anyone, and felt bad that they’d probably end up getting tossed when I got home… so hey, why not right? Trail magic!
One of the folks I ran into excitedly accepted the offer – then quickly made her way on up the trail. I didn’t think too much of it, until she caught back up to me a few miles from the trailhead! Turns out, her name was Carmen and she was just doing a quick “up and back” training run… which definitely puts my backpacking speed in context, if anyone was curious.
We chatted on the hike out, which made the remaining mile or three go exceptionally quick. We chatted about work, about adventures, all the fun things – definitely an excellent way to pass the time on the slow portion of the backpacking trip!
The remainder of the adventure was as lovely as the hike itself had been.
I drove out slowly, without a rush, stopping into Cle Elum for a quick dinner before hitting the main highway. I stayed in town for a bit of extra time, having heard some live music as I was eating a glorious hamburger, and was rewarded with a Pacific Northwest rendition of Sweet Caroline… an absolutely lovely callback to the East Coast.
