beach backpacking

Olympic Peninsula.  July 2-4.  With Brenda and Katie V.   Memory highlights of the trip include B's backward's trucker hat (see picture below), our collective inability to remember more than two lines of any given song we attempted to chorus during our walks, my goofy leg sunburn from beach meditation, stripping down to basics and jumping in the ocean, purple starfish, road trip rap music... the nostalgia is fresh.  The trip was a welcome reprieve from action and agenda; we meandered along the beach and cliff trails to our campsite the first day.  Near Strawberry Point.  We camped on the beach, and set fire to driftwood at night to warm ourselves and cook Field Roast dogs.  Our second day was spent exploring the beach and rocks during low tide, practicing yoga in the sand, relaxing, and watching the beautiful sunset.   We left camp relatively early in the morning on Monday the 4th, so as to avoid heavy ferry traffic and return to Seattle early-ish.  Brenda is a professional photographer.  She took some amazing shots during the weekend that might show up on www.bergreenphotography.com .

Being on the coast was a dramatic change from the prior weekend's mountain adventure on Shuksan.  Snow to sand.  Layers to bare skin.  I feel more like myself when I'm in the backcountry camping.  During this particular trip, I noticed that I had no mirror to look into.  Without a reflection, I felt more in touch with my insides.  There is so much emphasis on the external world in my life; what I look like being only one facet.  External identities consume much time and energy; my profession, my attire, personal relationships, speech, living environment, financial means, and on...   When I go hiking and camping for a night or more, I remember the peace in simplicity and space.  And how little space I give myself in my usual life.
I also noticed how much I enjoy being immersed in nature, even when not pursuing a high-intensity goal.  Typically, my adventures have an outcome attached; reach a summit, hit a certain mileage per day, complete a trail, reach a target destination.  While my inherent nature moves me towards 'get it', I now know that a slow pace fulfills me.  Balances.  I wanted quiet and stillness going into this weekend.  Felt that desire inside, though wasn't able to put it into words until I felt the experience.

Mt. Shuksan

June 25/26.  Training climb for Rainier.  Overnight snow camping, and ice climbing.  Group of nine.  Eddie led the trip, with Andrew and Cal leading two other rope teams.  Eddie and Kirsten were on my rope team.  Leigh, Flora, and Andrew on the third.  Cal, Deb, and Wei on number two.  We hiked to high base camp on Saturday, approximately 8,200 feet.  The summit is just under 9,000 feet.  We hiked mostly in white-out conditions the first day; couldn't see our surroundings beyond our immediate steps.  We woke up to clear skies on Sunday, with a spectacular panoramic view of the North Cascades National Park.   My rope team made it to about 300 feet below the summit before Eddie made the decision to turn back because snow was melting at  rapid rate.  Wet snow = dangerous down climb.  Given that myself and Kirsten were inexperienced mountaineers and ice climbers, I was supportive of his decision.  I felt grateful to have been given the opportunity to be on the mountain and learn new skills.

Familiar difficulties and irritations with group dynamics entered my mind throughout the trip.  I opted to settle on the thought "I wouldn't be here without these people.  I can't do this alone."  Shifting my focus from frustrating at how long it took people to get ready on summit morning, to appreciation for where I was helped me stay joyful and light.  There were a few humbling moments during the summit climb, notably when my ill-fitting crampon came off my boot a couple hundred feet up the climb.  I freaked out and a rush of critical, panicked thoughts flew thru my mind "what am I going to do? I can't get this back on.  All these people are waiting for me, I can't believe I didn't put it on right.  I'm screwed.  I can't believe you did this."  Kirsten noticed my panic and called to me "Dre, how are you doing?  Its okay, you're going to be fine!"  I paused; the pause felt like an eternity, likely it was 10 seconds.  I dug my ice axe into the ice/snow in front of me, and used it as leverage to balance on the spikes on my still-attached left boot/crampon combo.  I used one hand to slip the device back onto my foot.  Success.  The entire team did have to wait for me.  I held them up.  And it was fine.  I felt rattled for the next hour of climbing, and eventually was able to settle back into a routine.  Kirsten's support made a huge difference in my ability to solve the problem under stressful circumstances.  She was there to support me, and I want to support my team, too.   When they are slow, and I'm fast, and when I'm slow, and they are fast.  The point is that we all want to get up and down the mountain safely.  In our way, how we know how to do, and how we can.