written inaction

I wake this morning feeling much better, but not ambitious, as when Tuppence  calls to go hiking, I consider scouring the internet for evidence of inclement weather to justify staying in bed longer.  But he will not be deterred this easily, and since I refuse to admit my laziness, I have to agree with him when he tells me that that the snow is up north, so we should again hike close to the city.

Getting up and getting ready, Becky and I start to make pancakes for Tuppence’s arrival.  By we, I mean Becky.  As I fumble around the apartment looking for the things that Becky has put away into spaces I didn’t know we had, Becky begins her baking process.  Some time later, Tuppence arrives, I abandon my pile of half-found gear, and  we eat a delicious breakfast of pancakes and coffee. 

Before long we’re on the highway, and shortly after that we’re being pelted with snow blowing in from the pass.  “This will blow right over,” says Tuppence in a lie that I am supposed to reinforce.  Absolutely, I say, it’s a snow shower.

Sadly, this snow shower has dark, dark clouds, and pelts the windshield with increasingly large clumps of snow.  We change the music from Daft Punk to Bruce Springsteen’s “Nebraska”, which does not help my somber mood.  Becky hums along from the back seat, and I attempt to be ready with directions when I’m asked. 

The destination is Little Si, which is the bastard little brother of Big Si, a mountain described by Ar as one she would “never do again”.  With this in mind, we had chosen the smaller, less populated Little Si, forgoing any bragging rights for the weekend.

“Well this looks good,” says Tuppence as we climb out of the car and shoulder our packs.  Yeah, I say, shouldn’t be bad.  “I love switchbacks,” says Becky as we start climbing.

Good for you dear, I say, unable to resist the chance to take such an innocent line out of context.  Karma rebounds in less than 10 minutes as I climb over a log, step down, and hear a loud snap come from my ankle.  Shit, I say.

“Are you ok?” asks Becky. 

“What happened?” says Tuppence, turning around.

I rolled my ankle, I say, more embarrassed than anything else.  This has always been a problem for me, and it was inevitable that it would catch up with me at some point. I always crack ankles, so when I finally threw out my pair of hiking boots of the last 7 years, I told myself I would be sure to buy new ones before I started hiking again.  However, the period of transition from NH to WA, specifically the 5 months of unemployment, didn’t lend themselves very well to expenditures of disposable income.  Therefore, I began the practice of wearing my trail running sneakers on hikes, assuming that since I haven’t rolled ankles while running, the same magical protection would guard against the injury while hiking.  Stupid.

After taking a few ibuprofen and getting a consensus that it would be best to ignore the problem and enjoy the hike, I took my place at the middle of the pack and pressed on, conscious of the new twinge of discomfort that was working its was up my leg.

Hiking in the Pacific Northwest is great because everything is dark, wet, and green, and even as we climb to higher altitudes that are covered with a dusting of snow, trees are laden with dense green moss.  The entire forest appears muffled as sound is absorbed by the soft ground and rotting logs.  As we climb higher and higher, the air gets cooler, and as we walk out to a cliff edge, the sky opens up and starts to shower us with snow.  The flakes don’t drift to the ground as much as they speed toward it, almost looking like hail.  After leaving the cliff’s edge we walk a few more hundred feet to the summit and enjoy a cookie break as we survey the snow filled skies around us. 

A vast open sky looms in front of us, and behind us sits Big Si, far larger and more snow-covered than Little Si, which I, as the guy in running shoes and shorts, am quite content to have avoided today.  Wandering around the summit we find an old ammo box, which contains a little hodge-podge of items.  It seems to be one of those “take something, leave something” places, and the items are as eclectic as one would expect.  A small stuffed bear, a first aid backpack for the bear, a log-in pad, a bit of candy, and a glove, indicating that this also functions as a lost and found.  With a need for nothing as well as nothing to offer, I close the box back up and head down the trail with Becky and Tuppence. 

The walk down is faster and beautiful, with snow racing down the trunks for the tall, straight, trees.  I find myself being thankful for the opportunity to experience things like this, and to have people like Becky and Tuppence to share it with.

Back at the car it’s sunny, and my coffee is still warm, two surprises that I couldn’t be happier about.  After a brief discussion it is decided that we should go to check out the local town of North Bend, since it seemed very cool as we drove in.  As a three-minute drive covers the kength of the city, we opt to stop in a local bar and grill, look at our pictures, and eat some food, which also ends up including some beers, which are brought by a waitress with an attractive waitress with a low cut top, propensity to lean over, and a clear knowledge of how to get large tips. 

The bar is crunchy in the way that most bars in this area are.  It’s full of skiers and hikers, and there is a benign mixing of townie and sportsman that seems to only find harmony on the west coast.  Kit hats and flannel shirts abound, and as we finish our meal, Tuppence calls out to some of them who he knows. 

The ride home is fairly quiet considering how loud we were on the ride up.  The hike was not a long or strenuous one, but the food, beer, and sunshine make a deadly combination that Tuppence is alone in being able to fight off.  As he drops us off at the apartment I am ready for a nap.  But there is no nap to be had. 

While hiking and going out is fun, I am thrust back into the reality of pseudo-adulthood, a place with rent and bills and work.  As the sun falls away to rain I set to work doing my adult stuff, wishing I could go back to a time when bills were fun to pay because they were novel, a small hike meant 12 miles, and hiking was boring because it was done so much.