Steadiness. Patience. Laughter. Repeat
The sounds of coyotes slip in through my open window here in White Salmon. The rain is letting up. Its time for rest. At home, in bed, I use a sleeping bag. It reminds me of being on the road. Simple. Straight forward. Time floats along when we are in the woods, whether for work or on off days. Our home life, with day to day ups and downs fades. I am not the same person on a trail, with a wild look in my eye. The smell of the forest invigorating our senses.
Recently on a hike near my home, a friend introduced me to a magical place. The main feature of this hike are the large, 300-400 year old trees. A creek runs in between them, telling visitors of a time long forgotten, when trees like this filled much of our Western United States with centuries old wisdom.
Like my friend, I am conflicted with writing, even indirectly about this place, wanting to hold the stillness and feeling of magic tightly to my chest. Its a selfish feeling for me, born out of the countless old growth stumps that we have all witnessed around our region.
Simultaneously I feel that the more people that know about this place, the more people there are that can work together to make sure they are saved for future generations. Thats really all that matters …saving these trees and other’s like them so that people not yet born can witness, the gifts they have to offer.