LACING UP

Finding peace hiking Mt. Rainier, recalling childhood summers amid vibrant wildflowers.

LACING UP

In an age of constant noise and distractions, carving out time to pause and reflect in silence can feel strange or even weird. But engaging in quiet stillness and meditative reflection is music for the soul, and food for our brains. It has been proven that if the quiet, reflective part of our lives is neglected, we rob ourselves of a vital opportunity to grow and we risk harming our physical and mental health.

I remember the time I spent outside in my childhood. During summer we would spend our Saturdays swimming at a local swim club. That is whenever we weren’t stopping by the local convenience store to buy junk food and bubble gum. In the late sixties and early seventies, you could buy bubble gum for pennies or a large Slurpee for a quarter. We didn’t spend our youth inside playing video games or staring at dopey smartphones. We loved being outside all day.

When we were thirsty we drank out of garden hoses. This, of course, would be unthinkable today. We played sports outside while in school so being outside was natural for us. The only time spent inside was eating, sleeping or watching T.V.

In my lifetime I have seen a variety of landscapes from green rolling hills to the Northeast to the tropical of the Southeast. As an adult, I have a greater appreciation of the outdoors. After having spent so much of my life in the Midwest area and Southeast moving across the country to the Northwest made quite the impression.

That memory of that experience is as vivid today as it was then. I will never forget the first time visiting a real mountain up close and personal. I had just moved to the Northwest and settled into a new job. It was fall when I arrived so I had to wait until spring before I could enjoy being outside.

It was May and the weather was warm. So on a Saturday I loaded up the car with gas and headed out to Mt. Rainier National Park. The drive from the South Seattle area takes about three hours to give or take depending on which part of the park you drive too. The drive into the park is beautiful. The road is lined on either side with Evergreen trees.

Sword ferns are abundant in the low-elevation forests year-round; bracken, lacy oak ferns and deer ferns will follow. Along the road are pale, slender alders; a hardy native; they provide nutrients to the soil. After parking my car I lace up my boots. Put on my day pack then grab my trekking poles and begin the hike from a subalpine forest trailhead.

Upon the forest floor lie trees of yesteryear, fallen in storms long forgotten. The seasons have been harsh, stripping away the bark and outer layers, yet rendering them all the more beautiful. They have the appearance of driftwood, twisting in patterns that remind me of walks in the woods in my childhood. The light streaks through the boughs of the forest in both brilliant and shadowy beams. The birds above called, pecking away at grubs.

The forest is the orchestra of my mind, playing one enchanting symphony after another. Her pine branches dance to an unheard beat, whispering their songs to the wind. Here, sheltered by the mighty trees, is every kind of life, from the humble beetle to songbirds of every type. I hold my hands up to feel the cascading light, a brilliant white shaft illuminating the path that takes me onward and upward.

The air is rich with the fragrance of Avalanche Lilies, Lupen, Paintbrush, and Mountain Aster. The sound of running water in the nearby stream has the same hypnotic quality as music, I want to stop just to drink in the sound. In the forests and mountains, time is measured only by the rising and setting of the sun. The forest is ancient. The trees are thick and old, and roots that are twisted creating a challenge for the intrepid hiker. The ground of the forest, formed from the remains of trees fallen, no doubt over the centuries, forming a beauty unique in its own design.

With each step of my boots, I connect with the Earth if only a few seconds at a time. The sensation reminds me this is real and not a dream. The air is clean and crisp; free of man-made pollutants. The wind is a gentle breeze. Along with the way through the forest, I was rewarded with a wide section of trail adorned on either side with Avalanche Lilies with a few Golden Glacier Lilies scattered therein seeking sunlight and warmth. Their movements are graceful like that of a dancer filling the air with the fragrance of a florist. I can hear the crunch of pine needles under my boots. Each step took me higher up on the mountain.

Exiting the forest into the higher meadows reveals varieties of wildflowers such as; mountain daisy, mountain aster, lupine, magenta paintbrush, and columbine. The meadow is a riot of color. The air is perfumed by the heavy scent of the Lupen. Their blue petals were striking against the backdrop of Mt. Rainier, simply beautiful. The Lupen and paintbrush stood out amongst the grasses; accented by butterflies spectacular in color, their movements like dancers on a stage. The meadow flowed like waves on a sea as the mountain whispered gently as it has done for centuries.

Such a scent has provided years of memories. The mountain is pristine and white, even the dark gray of the rock is mostly coated in the crystalline snow. I could stand there drinking it all in, listening to the silence that hangs so thickly in the cool summer air. The mountain is where time stops. The rock does not care for minutes or hours, it doesn't care for days and hard for years. A mountain only regards the eons. Its peak is hidden by clouds lending to one imagining the strain of climbers ascending its icy slopes toward the summit.

I found a spot among the field of wild mountain flowers now in full bloom and set up my tripod and camera. I take time to capture the beauty that only God can create so that I may gaze upon it for the many years of my life that follow this experience. I return to my car unlacing my boots to provide relief to my feet. I tie my shoes and drive to Reflection Lake soaking in the warm afternoon sun. Drinking the cold glacier water I had captured earlier in my container. Rewarding myself with the cleanest water I have ever had. Pure and untouched by man.

What, I wonder, will my next adventure bring?