Three days in and I am starting to get used to the simplicity of our daily routine. Wake up and ignore the pain of sore legs, pump water, make oatmeal with my cooking group, decompress camp, and start hiking to the next campsite. Even though we wanted to get moving early, since we had a long day ahead of us, we still had time for some tree yoga led by Tim. Since we were all participating, I wasn’t able to get an action shot, but we did poses that represented different species of trees that were in the forest surrounding our campsite.
After learning about the nearby trees and lichen, it was time to throw on our packs and start hiking. Tim projected that it was roughly a five-mile hike that day, but we quickly learned that his mile estimates typically undershot how far we actually had to go. We started hiking through the old-growth forest and it was a pretty quiet morning. Normally the twelve of us always had something to talk about, but we all seemed to be fully immersed in the beauty of our surroundings, so it was peaceful to enjoy the beauty of the forest.
Eventually, our flat hike started to gain some elevation and we broke through the forest and started hiking through some avalanche zones, complete with airblast damage on the opposite side of the valley . Compared to our surroundings, the avalanche zones, even though they happened almost a decade ago, had some pretty young growth along with rocks and rubble that we had to scramble over.
After some light scrambling and hiking a little bit farther, we stopped at Falls Camp for lunch and water refills. We dropped our backpacks and sat in an open field near a stream while we all caught up over our sausage and cheese bagel sandwiches. My cooking group always seemed to be ravenous by the time lunch came, so we always ate trail mix, protein bars, and crackers with peanut butter to fuel up for the rest of the day. By the end of lunch, we were all itching to continue hiking to our final campsite, so instead of lingering for a little while longer, we decided to quickly pack up our lunch and head back on the trail. Tim warned us that the next section of trail would largely be uphill, with some plateaus, but overall a large elevation gain compared to earlier.
I found the trail ahead of us to be pretty daunting since we could see just how steep it got, but we took it at a very, very, very slow pace so we didn’t overexert ourselves too quickly. On the way up, we came across pretty deep mud pits, had to climb over countless fallen trees, and maneuver through some fields with marmot holes. Sadly, we didn’t see any marmots, but thankfully, there were huckleberry, thimbleberry, and salmonberries all along the path which was a bonus. On this portion of the trail, we created “bloob alerts” so everyone would know that there were loads of berries nearby that we could snack on. I don’t think that I have ever eaten so many fresh, wild berries in my life, it was incredible!
After a few hours of strenuous uphill hiking, we came across our first plateau which brought us to a river for our first official water crossing without a bridge! We stopped at the river briefly for anyone to refill their water since it would be our last place to fill up before we reached camp. Some of us changed into our river shoes so our hiking boots would not get drenched, but some of us took a different route and crossed over a log instead. Tim led the way around trees, through blueberry bushes, and over a few marmot holes to eventually end up at the logs we would shimmy across. The six of us (not so gracefully, but successfully) made our way across the logs and even got to look at the waterfall behind us. From here we had to make our own path to the original trail and continue our hike up.
On our way up, we stopped multiple times to identify new species surrounding us like the white-flowered rhododendron (Rhododendron albiflorum) and I think we even saw some coral fungus (Artomyces) too. I found it fascinating how knowledgeable some people were in our group when it came to naming different species – especially since they often knew both the common and scientific names.
Sometime later, we descended into the Cedar Lake valley where we got our first views of the alpine landscape. To say I was blown away by how beautiful this space was, simply does not do it justice. We reached one last river that we had to cross and then we would be at camp. Tim and Tino helped everyone across, then we hiked up a small hill and we were at our first alpine lake campsite. We all quickly set up camp and then most of us went for a swim, even though the water was frigid, because we were extremely sweaty from our hike up. After we were all clean, we headed back around the lake to camp and started making dinner. Thankfully, the sun had started setting because the mosquitoes were vicious during daylight. Typically after dinner, someone would lead a discussion, but we decided to push it off for a day since we were all tired from the day’s hike. Instead, a group of us went stargazing in the nearby open field and I have never seen so many shooting stars or seen the milk way so clearly in my life. We all bonded over sharing embarrassing stories of ourselves, talking about what we were like in high school, and even talking about our future goals – it was a beautiful way to end the long day.
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One of the most peaceful moments for me on this trip was on day seven. We hiked from the Dosewallips Meadows up and over to Cameron Basin. This was a particularly hard day for me since I was physically tired, mentally drained, and had gotten stung by a hornet earlier in the day. Regardless, when we got to the top of the pass, I was blown away by my surroundings and how far we’d come that day. Not only could we see Mount Olympus, but we could also see the top of Mount Tahoma in the distance. Tim gave us some time to reflect on the week that we had had where I sat on a rock and took some time to meditate and journal. Here is the haiku I wrote at the peak:
The mountains can see,
How we treat them, how we feel
“Protect us”, they say.
I am normally not one to share my writing, but this one felt right to share, especially after spending over a week in the backcountry. The experience at the top of the pass was incredibly powerful for me because it was the moment I realized that I can push myself much farther than the limiting beliefs that I hold subconsciously for myself. The place where we had time to ourselves was a short hike above the pass. Physically, I didn’t want to do it because I was so tired, but mentally I knew that I had to because I wouldn’t be in this place, with these people ever again – so I dropped my pack and hiked the rest of the way up.
And thank goodness I did. Despite being physically and mentally drained, I had never been more proud of myself for being where I was. At the very top, I was overcome with immense feelings of gratitude, happiness, and even love. I felt grateful for being where I was and having the opportunity to be there, happy that I was surrounded by incredibly supportive, kind people, and love for the place we get to call home – Earth. Having this time to myself, at the top of a mountain in Olympic National Park, made me realize how small I am in the grand scheme of things, but it doesn’t make me, or my actions, any less significant. I will forever remember this event because it shifted my mindset about what I am capable of and reminded me that I need to slow down more to appreciate my surroundings.
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Going into this course, I had no idea what to expect other than the fact that I would be spending nine days in the wilderness…with eleven strangers. It didn’t once cross my mind that I knew none of these people, or that I would be in an unfamiliar place, or the physical limits that I would go to during those nine days. I was just happy to be meeting people and taking an in-person course again. Spending over a week in the wilderness comes with its challenges, both mentally and physically, but I found myself falling in love with the simplicity of life and becoming reliant on myself and the people around me.
Looking back, I can now see how much this wilderness experience has changed me and affected me personally. Normally, I despise the idea of routines and doing the same thing every day, but the simplicity of our days in the wilderness made me enjoy them. Our process of waking up, deconstructing camp, hiking, and then reconstructing camp somewhere else was therapeutic for me. There was no need to google anything or to call my dad and ask for help, it was basic survival instincts at its finest. I found myself actually using my brain to rely on knowledge that I already had, instead of searching the internet. Coming back, I have recognized that I am more self-reliant, I make more of a conscious effort to slow down in my day-to-day life, and take the time to recognize my surroundings.
After nearly two weeks of being back in civilization, I still find myself contemplating how lucky I was, and how grateful I am, to have been able to experience the type of learning and bonding that we did. I learned that being in an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people forced us all to throw any form of judgment out the window, become vulnerable with one another, and connect with each other. Not only did I learn how to reconnect with people after spending so much time trying to avoid them, but I also learned that it was an immense privilege to do what we did. I moved to Seattle a little over a month ago so I could get adjusted before I embarked on this adventure. It didn’t hit me until we were leaving for the trip that I felt some guilt in the act of being able to leave civilization, especially right now, when everyone I know was stuck where they were. Even when we came back and mandates were reinstated, I realized that I was able to forget about the turmoil outside of the park and just exist without worry.
Additionally, after spending so much time in the wilderness, it forced me to think differently about who truly has access to these spaces. Before the trip, we read multiple articles about POC who regularly got into the wilderness and their experiences in it. During the trip, we occasionally ran into other hikers on the trail. More times than not, we would engage in a brief conversation about how large our group was and exchange route details, and then we would go our separate ways from them. Even though everyone we passed was kind, every single one of them appeared to be white. It made me realize that these spaces, that I was currently in, truly can be a daunting spaces to enter since they were created by force and built on traumatic experiences. It also forced me to recognize both the privilege and the power that I hold.
While I see immense value in allowing these spaces to continue to exist, things do need to change. The concept of these spaces offers a purpose in the sense that they allow humans to recognize the intrinsic beauty of their surroundings, realize where we can make changes to our lives, and force us to make changes that create a more inclusive space. Specifically for the future of the wilderness in national parks, a shift in how we approach the history and naming of places of these places needs to change. From acknowledging the cultures and people who were impacted so these parks could be created to giving landmarks back their meaningful names (like calling Mount Rainier Mount Tahoma instead since it carries a meaning), is a start. In order for these parks to continue to offer a purpose and start to include a more diverse group of people, then we need to start making changes today. These spaces continue to root us in our history and in order to make their continued existence more sustainable, in both an ecological and diverse way, we need to change how we approach them and how we promote them. By approaching these spaces in a way that allows them to be seen for what they are (and not solely from a car window), and promoting them in a way that is inclusive to all will hopefully allow their continued existence to thrive.
