February 17, 2019
Here we are again. It’s our second time to this wild retreat, to celebrate the excitement of winter. The gracious hosts-hardworking gardeners of their feral farm-welcome us back to their charming land. The snow this year was far thicker than years past, providing us a brilliant white canvas to play upon. All our familiar trails feel magical yet somehow foreign- the trees weighted down with inches of snow, drooping their branches inward over our path. Around us the mountains- the Cascades of the North- are magnificent, their snow-capped peaks glistening against the bluebird sky day we are privileged to enjoy. Layer upon layer of trees march up the surrounding slopes, ascending to the base of the mountains and lowland hills. Here we are enclosed in our own private snow-globe- we breathe in deeply as the crisp mountain air brings us closer to nature. As the days pass, fog creeps in- rolling over the majesty around us…..dulling the colors and dimming the light. It’s somehow even more beautiful- like a misty land straight out of a fantasy book. The kind I read as a kid, that I wished I was part of.
Our hikes take us along the slow flowing river, frozen white along the shore, where the embankment meets the forest ridge. The ice is swirled in concentric circles, a solidified memory of its last movement as a frenzied fluid. The forest is enchanted old-growth; the Douglas-fir, Western redcedar and Western hemlock are still adorned with their luscious foliage, while the Red Alder and Bigleaf Maple stand tall and bare. The thick moss clings to the maples, with clusters of licorice fern growing from hidden pockets amidst the giant’s darkened nooks. The lichen hangs in epic strands, draped over the branches it decorates the forest. Fallen logs and stumps around every corner nurse new life- as the Red Huckleberry and Salal jump forth from their decaying homes.
This land was once our home too, at least temporarily- as I worked in a park here years ago during an unusually mild winter. Now it is a moment of our past we hold dear, a reminder of our younger years and a simpler time. A chapter we reminisce about; filled with wonderful company and rustic homegrown/homecooked food shared by new friends in new places. Comfortable gatherings with folk who tend the land by hand, cherish good conversation about conservation and enjoy contra dancing to live music. The hand-holding, swirling, spin-your-partner kind of eve where the grange gets hot from so many joyously moving bodies. But I digress……
Back at our Earth House, constructed from natural ingredients foraged from the land- we spend our time frolicking in the snow with our pup. We use the hand-drawn map tucked upon the built-in shelf, wedged between the Pacific Northwest hiking books, nature magazines and flora/fauna guides. This simple map leads us through the snow-laden woods, to a vein of the river- a portion blocked on either end with shallow portions and fallen debris. As we walk side by side our steps make a loud crunching sound- it’s almost deafening as it penetrates through this peaceful and still pocket we find ourselves in. With each step I feel like I’m disturbing the gentle balance around us. I’m used to hearing the wild noises-a familiarity I’ve grown accustomed to- my way of connecting with the world around me.
Once we reach the river, we find the canoe resting diagonally along the shore- a weathered rope tethering it to a strong tree. We slide it into the waiting water, and clamber aboard. With a gentle coaxing our dog jumps on- not wanting to be left behind. He stands on my lap at the head of the boat hound snout positioned upward- leading the way. We push off and the canoe gently skims the surface, breaking the tension as we slowly glide by. We cross over protruding logs, deep swimming holes, and snowy banks. We paddle around shallow sections and hoist ourselves over fallen trees. Twice we venture out, once while dry and once in the rain. Both times the cold is refreshing and exhilarating.
We came for the memories, the beauty, the natural escape. To rest and relax and find inner peace. To hike and talk and wildlife watch. Here, we found it all. A lovely sojourn we won’t forget.
**Tidbits from our adventure shared through a series of thoughts, sights, sounds and smells:
“The complete silence of our morning is loudly broken by the drilling of a Pileated woodpecker. The reverberation echoing in a profound loudness, across the crisp mountain air. It’s the loudest I’ve ever heard.”
“A tiny Douglas’ squirrel peeks at me from behind a tree. A stealthy, determined glance- as it continues to busy itself collecting leaves, moss and lichen for its warm little nest. I imagine it would be neatly tucked up in the branches of this giant maple tree. “
“We walk to the river in the crunching snow, and upon our arrival the view is breathtaking. The water an impressive green, absolutely clear. Off in the distance we can hear the chittering and scolding of that same Douglas’ squirrel, angry that we bothered him on his morning routine. The high-pitched shrill screaming of the restless rodent echoes through the silence.”
“Black-capped chickadees fly around our head, dozens of them. Landing delicately on the branches above us. We are completely encircled by them.”
“Clothes drying after a romp in the river, hanging from hooks above the fire. Our behinds wet from our unplanned canoe trip. A rushed run back in the snow, to our warm cabin awaiting us.”
“We make a quick lunch of pickled vegetables, dried meat and cheese, before laying in the loft for a mid-day rest. Puppy is tired from his outing, he stretches- his little toes extending. With a big yawn he collapses against my shoulder, preparing for a cozy nap. I’ve always loved that he snuggles and cuddles and lets me baby him- his fuzzy golden body pressed against mine.”
“I wonder off on my own for a bit, down through the snow- simply meandering until I find a cluster of cedar trees. Sitting underneath them I’m quiet, listening to the world around me. The sweet yet spicy smell of the cedar bark lingers on the air. As I concentrate to the delicacies in my direct line of vision, I notice a very settle breeze, gently rustling the moss hanging from the vine-maple trees. Almost unnoticeable- but I can’t deny the movement I see. The graceful tendrils hanging down, swaying back and forth.”
“I hear the deep guttural call of a raven off a distance to my right. I can hear the river going by, descending ever so slightly down a cluster of debris built up from winters past. Otherwise the water is almost silent- the birds are making more noise than that.”
“As I walk to the water’s edge, something across the way- something large, goes thrashing through the underbrush away from me. I can hear sticks breaking, understory vegetation being shoved aside. I can almost make out the form of an elk. Maybe it’s my mind playing tricks on me- but I’ve seen this before. Startled elk running deep into the woods.”
“The water is almost still, providing a perfect canvas for the reflection of the trees. Gazing into it I see a surreal slanted upside-down forest. The naked deciduous branches reaching to the sky, mixed with the conifers- cedars and maples mostly. As I peer down the curving channel, I can see tree covered hills- mountains if you will, where the snow has left a frost on every surface. The telltale signature of winter.”
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