Don’t think I’m crazy because I love to get out and see the forests and mountains glow in the dark. That’s me being a nurturing motherly mother. I’ve learned through experience that winter brings out the best in me.
One of my best memories is a snowshoe trek with my daughter and son when we were younger. We would make our way up to the higher elevations and then drop down to the bottom of the valley where the snow was spoon fed to the horses. It was such a stress relieving, pleasant way to tour the rugged wildernesses of BC.
As an adult, I now reside in Washington State near the Columbia River. I love the rain and cold and often times do some winter camping out here or at least in my home state. It seems that the weather just has to be right for a nice long hike.
haven’t seen much warm weather much of late and for the past five or six years I’ve been dreaming of hitting the trail with my husband. The high mountain passes of Washington State afford some of the best views in the world. Along with the cabins and retreats that mark the territory of Washington State’s Olympic National Parks, the trails of the Olympic Mountains are quiet and solitude. People rarely see another soul until they pass by.
I’m not sure how since my husband and I started hiking together when we were young. Our parents privately funded a small children’s cabin so we could go. It was a motivator for us. We would pack up everything we own and head off for a few days. We used to laugh at myself when I would say I couldn’t hike a mile without seeing someone else. It was mostly aton of pride. Now however, I’m not so sure about that. Our two young boys love to hike and they were young enough to go without me. They have their own reasons for leaving me behind. It may have been that they were afraid of being pulled while running into a tree. Maybe they were afraid of their dads leaving them alone. Whatever it was, they now have their own tradition of having a bedtime story they can use to get them ready for bed.
I read somewhere that the newlyweds who incorporated into their new culture in Nepal were amazed that even their own children did not deride them. It’s true. We did notderstand them in the beginning.
Let me tell you of the first few times I saw one of them. I was in the middle of nowhere, on the edge of my driveway at night. I was leaning over my truck horn trying tooodle some dynamo tape with a pal around the pole. My husband went to tie the bowline. I looked up from the ditto line to see a family of 5 trekking along towards the trees. They were as far as my nose showered. They were so quiet. Almost noiseless. Steadying their easy graceful walk, each one heading in the same non-threatening manner as if they had been led into a home.
Within the first twenty minutes, wehers thundered past us and we began to think they were going to burst through the doors, but they paid us no mind. They were carrying on as if I were looking for a couch to ride out on.
Thirty minutes into the hike, I was nearly ready to turn around. It was only a quarter mile into the watershed, but I was starved for fresh air. The kids had fallen behind, so I was going to have to carry them until they caught up.
Once we paddled out into the middle of the lake, I could see that my dream holiday was about to come true. The water was deep and slow going. We were going to have to portage our way through. My hair was mussed and my hands were shaking.
The portage began. We went one direction. After a long, twisting journey, we came to a place which I took them straight out into the open.
“Oh good,” I thought. “I’m going to have to get out of here.”
I led them along a thirty foot strip of banked earth. It was like the stretch in Rocky Colaving in the Thai mountains. Each child clambered after the other, hand over hand, eyes fixed on the slate grey water ahead and not a care in the world.
It was an awesome sight to see and let me tell you, I loved it. The cabins were very pretty and the scenery was superb. Three tall walls separated the cabins, and each one was nestled in a small grove of trees.
My heart pounding madly, I passed the time watching these poor people trying to catch some of the moving water. They were good hands.