Take Me to Church: Hiking the Olympics
Yesterday I, knowing I had a several upcoming obligations and wouldn’t be able to hike for a few days, threw a bunch of gear in my overnight backpack, ran by the Olympic National Park HQ, grabbed a camping space reservation for Moose Lake, and took off for a spontaneous overnight in my “backyard”. Moose Lake is the second lake in a series of three that you can get to via trails leaving from Obstruction Point — itself an 8 mile *harrowing* drive from Hurricane Ridge, which is about 17 miles from my house. All told, the trailheads are only about 90 minutes away (there’s a lot of 5MPH driving to get to Obstruction). I’d done Grand Ridge already — 2.5 miles each way — and it was stunning; it’s the highest hikeable ridge in the Olympics. But 5 miles round trip? Meh! I wanted to overnight!
The trip to Moose Lake is a loop that’s roughly 10 miles around and you can start from one of two trails that connect near the lakes. Yesterday, I opted to ease my way in via the longer but less steep Badger Valley trail (I like climbing steep inclines more than descending). That choice took me down a lovely path into beautiful valley meadows, random stands of trees, and past Grand Lake (the largest of the three lakes). I was glad to skip Grand Lake — as usual, too many bro’s barking “dude!” at each other there — and Moose Lake was definitely prettier.
Once there, I couldn’t find any great official spots for my hammock, so I sort of grabbed one that sort of was maybe connected to an official spot. It was in a circle of trees and looked straight up into the sky. My neighbors were, unfortunately, a gaggle of small children and their minders, so it was noisy, but Im always so stoked to see parents who get their kids out there that I didn’t mind at all.
My original plan had been to take a dive in the lake, but being in the 50's when I arrived, that was not going to happen. Instead, I found a comfy stone seat well above the water and just watched the sun set. At twilight, I tried drawing a bit of what I could see with colored pencils, but I was never very good at landscapes. Still, here’s what I came up with (in the dark. in 5–10 minutes.):
(Just Kidding, it’s terrible, here’s another actual picture instead)
After a brief dinner of my go-to freeze dried gluten free Shepherd’s Pie, I went looking for the official bear wire to hang my bag. I’d seen it earlier when I was looking for a camping spot, but after walking 1/4 of a mile back and forth *five times* without finding it again, I gave up and (again) hacked something together. (Note: Finding a place to hang your food in mountain lakeside trees which are notable for there almost complete lack of real branches is not fun.) I thought about skipping the hanging, but at one point I had to run back because a DEER WAS EATING MY BACKPACK. Im pretty sure she was looking for the sweat-salt on it, but …I needed that backpack! It was my fault. She’d sort of been following me around for awhile, clearly nosing for food, and I hadn’t chased her off. I have to tell you, this deer gave no fucks, none whatsoever, about me. I turned around a couple of times to find her four feet away.
Night was beautiful. For all of the 600 miles I’ve hiked in the past year, I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve slept under only the stars with no roof, tent, or tarp above me. Every time I closed then opened my eyes, more starts were out. I’d nod off, wake up, and everything would have changed a bit. And my sky view was framed by a circle of treetops. It was gorgeous and clear and FUCKING COLD. Did I mention I hiked in prepared for a *summer* night — not one that got down into the upper 30's?!?!? Let me tell you, a hammock (even with a blow up pad for insulation and a 21F rated quilt) is not warm in wet/cold conditions. It probably would have been better if I’d set up the tarp to keep the breezes down, but….stars/sky/awesomeness. So I put on a cap, some gloves, a light rain jacket, wrapped my legs in a light down coat (yeah) and snuggled in for the night.
5:05am, my alarm goes off but Im already awake. I have company visiting my house today, so I needed to hoof it back home. I was shivering, my down quilt was almost soaked from freak condensation, and it was still in the low 40's. I packed up in record time and was on the trail by 5:25am. No joke!
The first two miles back, going down a different route than I came, were grueling. For some reason, “1400 feet in 2 miles” is different depending on which trail you’re on. These 1400 feet *sucked* and I was walking essentially in the dark — because, 5:25am. In shorts. And a tshirt. In mid-40's temps. My goose bumps had goose bumps and could cut diamond. Still, gotta do what you gotta do.
Once I finished the 2 mile uphill, I was…stunned. I sort of know what’s coming when I get up high in the Olympics, but it always blows me away — almost to tears (do you remember that double rainbow video? Yeah. Thank god no one was with me to record it. Of course, I did accidentally send a pretty girl a 13 minute accidental audio recording of me eating and watching Mr. Robot…so who knows what gets out into the public.)
It’s beyond breathtaking here, especially alone, and all the bullshit getting to places like this drops into the big bucket of life’s irrelevancies once you turn that corner or step onto that ridge and gasp.
I mean, all the time I hear from some folks “God blah blah blah” “Church Blah blah blah”. You know what? Stop talking. Stop what you’re doing. Come the fuck up here and be quiet and still. Whether God is a White Haired Dude in the Sky, whether God is a Pile of Spaghetti, whether Thou Art God and We Art God (you grok?), or whether God is just a series of moments in our brief, tragic, meatspace lives, you’ll find him or her or it here, in this Church. I can’t, anymore, imagine any other Church, honestly. Not one that matters.
Seriously. I’m reading The Orenda right now, and a major part of the plot is the culture point of view differences between pre-United States Huron, a French Jesuit, and his attempts to convert them. So far in the book, he’s spent most of his time with his head up his ass trying to talk to people who live as a part of — and are in fact, almost indisinguishable in their lifestyle — from nature about some stuffy, political exercise in “churching”. As if they didn’t know — as if they couldn’t know about God and as if, living in this space, you aren’t a *part of it* without doing anything extra.
I know the outdoors aren’t for everyone; they’re hard, they can be uncomfortable, they lack genuinely awesome civilized improvements like showers, toilets, and air conditioning, but I still think everyone should, every once in awhile, shut the fuck up, climb a mountain, and be still in the few remaining magic places on Earth.
And, if you want a start, come out to the Olympic Penninsula. Elves, Gods, Dragons, Faeries, Peace, and Calm still live here.
Take yourself to Church.
(And, incidentally, I made it back home by 9:30am. Go me!)
