MOUNT PILCHUCK STATE PARK, GANITE FALLS, WA:
An early start finds me out the door by 4am, eagerly heading to Mount Pilchuck to hike the Lake Twenty-Two Trail. This beautiful destination, a couple of hours north, opens up an opportunity to stop by my mother’s—today is a special day, her birthday. As I embark on this trail in Granite Falls, WA, I can’t help but feel grateful for the gorgeous day that complements the hike. Today, in particular, is filled with reflections on music from all dimensions: my deep appreciation for it, its various elements, and the joy of listening, playing, creating, and sharing. It’s intriguing to think about music in silence, as I choose not to listen to any while on the trail; this quiet allows my mind to weave together melodies, harmonizing with the planting of my trek poles in the ground and the rhythm of my steps. My hike at this waypoint was 7.42 miles with an elevation gain of 1,483 feet, and nearly a 5-hour journey, offering both challenge and serenity.
The Journey…
Pulling into the trailhead at 5:30 presented me the choice of any parking space. I quickly realized just how wonderful this early start was, as more hikers began to arrive while I was lacing my boots. I quickly hit the trail, eager for an energizing morning ascent. The path was welcoming, initially wide, and gracefully traversed the mountain above the trailhead, allowing me to admire both the raging river and the highway that followed its course. Not a half mile in, the trail took an turn toward the beautiful lake. The path initially consisted of sheets of rock that encouraged attentive footing, later transforming into sharp boulders. For this reason, I was thankful that my new hiking boots arrived just a couple days prior, as the extra support was invaluable. Two friendly hikers passed me on the way up, and I felt a sense of camaraderie, knowing I’d share the stunning summit view with at least a couple of fellow adventurers. Exactly two hours in, I arrived at Lake Twenty-Two, which was absolutely majestic with its clear waters and spectacular amphitheater-like backdrop, featuring towering mountains still cloaked in snow and adorned with multiple waterfalls of all shapes, sizes, and depths. The walk around the lake was equally stunning, some of it on a boardwalk structure. After an hour soaking up the beauty, I began my descent back down the trail from which I had come, greeting many hikers on my way down. I felt gratitude when I arrived back at the trailhead witnessing the Snohomish Rescue handing out water bottles and warmly greeting hikers. The parking lot was bustling with activity, and a line of cars snaked down the street, clearly demonstrating that arriving early had its rewards!
Gratitude…
On my early morning drive to this waypoint, I reflected on the deep gratitude I feel for music. I recognize the meaningful impact it has had on my life, acting as a steadfast companion through both joy and sorrow. Music has been a source of connection, weaving together playlists—a beautiful tapestry that tells our stories—the soundtrack of our lives. From the uplifting melodies that play through our happiest moments to the poignant harmonies that offer solace in times of struggle, music speaks to me in ways words cannot, allowing me access and express what often lies in the depth of my heart. Each note, each lyric, resonates within me, serving as a reminder of the beauty found in life’s complexities and the connections that unite us.
I am especially thankful for the cherished memories I’ve shared with Kelly on our musical journey together. Our bond was strengthened in the special moments spent listening to music, especially during live performances. Music has not only been a means of personal expression but also a bridge connecting me to others, creating lasting memories that I hold dear. In each song, I find a piece of my story, an echo of the love and connection that enriches my life, filling it with meaning and reminding me that I am never truly alone.
Reflections…
At this waypoint, I found myself reflecting on a seemingly simple topic: music. Yet, it revealed itself to be the most intricate “trail thought” I had faced thus far, and capturing it in my journal felt like trying to catch the wind. This is a feeble attempt at just that. Music doesn’t just touch my emotions; it envelopes me in a gentle embrace of feelings that carry me through soaring peaks of joy and profound valleys of sorrow that often leave me feeling overwhelmed.
My thoughts wandered through the elements of music, reflecting on the diverse emotional landscape created by melody and harmony. The major keys resonate with joy, while the minor keys gently recount stories of sorrow, each harmony amplifying these feelings. I reflect on how rhythm and tempo convey energy—upbeat tempos igniting a spark of excitement, while slower beats inviting moments of reflection and melancholy. The lyrics tell stories, allowing me to follow the artist’s journey or to connect my own experiences to the melodies. I can feel the vibrant energy of live performances, where a connection blossoms between artists and fans, a dance of intertwined souls. And, for my geeky friends, there is a physiological response to music that triggers neurotransmitters—both dopamine and oxytocin—credited with pleasure, reward, and bonding. As all these elements come together, the empath in me amplifies them. I feel the depths of each note, submerged in a sea of emotions that are both exhilarating and overwhelming, often leading to moments of intense happiness or sadness that carefully peeled back the layers of my stoic nature.
As I absorbed the waves crashing against my heart, I fondly recall the love Kelly and I shared through music. She also created a safe space for me to experience music in ways that were important to me: Listening, Playing, Creating, and sometimes Sharing. For me music is more than just melody, harmony, rhythm, and lyrics; it needs to be felt. It’s a universal language that transcends barriers, vibrating through the air and into the core of our existence. For many, it serves as a source of joy and celebration; for others, it’s a companion in times of sorrow and retreat. During live shows, the energy flowing between the stage and the audience creates a special dialogue—a connection that is felt rather than simply heard. Watching musicians lose themselves in their craft conjures up a bit of envy within me (the healthy kind); It’s more than being an observer, it’s part of a living, breathing entity pulsating with life through the magic of sound.
I reminisced about the big shows Kelly and I enjoyed together—artists like U2, James Taylor, Lumineers, Dave Matthews, Jason Mraz, the list goes on; these were shows where we immersed ourselves in the grand experience. However, it was the smaller venues that etched themselves into my heart, where we experienced a shared connection with the artists and the atmosphere. It makes me think of shows like Tristan Prettyman, The John Butler Trio, or Ben Taylor, whose intimate performances at Chop Suey in Seattle left us nearly silent for the ride home—as words were not necessary to feel connected by our shared experience. Then there were moments like at the Groundwork’s Benefit with Dave Matthews or his serene solo setting in Benaroya Hall, or OAR at the Showbox at the Market. Oh, how I loved sharing and enjoying music with her. One show sits fondly with me: Joshua Radin’s 2019 show at the McMenamins Elk Temple in Tacoma. You can find songs by him on both our playlists, and as you’ll read, the depth of that connection is quite profound. One experience I didn’t prepare myself for, was discovering a new song we would both enjoy—after her passing. I finally crossed this bridge. “Feel Okay Again” by ZAY has been added to my playlist, as hers is locked in time. She would appreciate this song—and perhaps she does.
Sidestepping rocks on the trail, I found myself reminiscing about my own history with music, and my relationship with my guitar—a thought I don’t often revisit, as it brings back shadows I preferred to keep at bay. Ever since I was as big, or as small, as the guitar itself, I’ve played. I began with lessons, sitting on a piano bench with a music teacher in her dimly lit home, somewhere on a farm in Monroe, WA. I strummed my nylon string guitar, to what feels like endless weeks of C, F, and G. Now, that relic is buried somewhere deep in my garage. I learned classical music in a very classical fashion—a foundation I cherish to this day. My early teens introduced me to my first electric guitar (Gibson Les Paul style) and with lessons from Al Turay in Wallingford (Seattle, WA). This is a time when I ventured into the world of jazz, from an accomplished musician. After a couple years, my interests descended into rock music, purchasing more equipment and leading me down a path of garage bands and gigs that weren’t very impressive. A dark time ensued, and I stepped away from my guitar for 15 years.
Eventually, a spark of interest returned, but I wasn’t as interested in my classical nylon string, and the electric guitar no longer appealed to me as my axe of choice. That spark was ignited on a flight home from Washington Dulles, across the aisle from Dave Matthews, though he didn’t specifically encourage it, I felt a nudge to purchase my first steel-string acoustic guitar. I embraced this new approach, with a new outlook, and a new guitar. This renewal lead me to seek some refresher lessons, which I did with Steve Lynch, the lead guitarist of the popular 80’s band Autograph. Their fame: Turn Up the Radio, cira mid-80’s. His guidance was the right fit for me at that time, to awaken my music pursuits. Guitar has been my companion through thick and thin, a thread woven into the fabric of my personal musical history.
While on the lake loop, I thought about how music needed to be created, to experience its seed, its roots. I enjoy music as creative expression—not necessarily for performance. I use it as a way to explore emotions that often eluded articulation. As of late, I have been assembling lyrics while out on the trails, and like the changing winds, my lyrics have evolved. From this exploration, a pre-chorus and chorus of a song I’m crafting has emerged:
So walk with me, along this trail;
By the river that goes uphill.
Walk with me, along this path;
I’m living in the aftermath.
But hold that net, ‘cause I’m on the brink;
I’ll see you soon, that’s what I like to think.
And check my heart, ‘cause it’s a fragile thing;
A root unearthed, the changing winds remain.
In my quiet evenings while I’m winding down, I share these lyrics-in-progress with Kelly, to a simple chord progression, adding the verses that accompany them. This connects my musical journey with her. She called me her rockstar, and our amphitheater was the room we shared—a space where I felt fulfilled with my one dedicated fan.
Sharing is an important part of music. When artists share their creations with fans, they set it free. What it meant to them during creation was just the beginning. Once released, music can follow many paths—some listeners might appreciate it as it is, while others may adopt it, etching their own memories or associations into its melody and lyric. I have a moment that will forever be imprinted in my heart: on July 15, 2024, at 3:17, in the room Kelly called her “She-Shed,” her loved ones gathered as her breathing slowed. Compelled by love, intuition, maybe divine intervention, I placed my iPhone on her pillow, and played “Three Little Birds,” a Bob Marley cover performed by Joshua Radin. This was a song we cherished together, as we commonly refer to our children as our three little birds. At the end of that song, Kelly took her last breath, at 3:20 PM, surrounded by family and love—an experience that will be eternally meaningful for those in that room. Sometimes, I will play Radin’s version back-to-back with Marley’s, allowing me to travel from sorrow to celebration, all wrapped in love in just under six minutes.
Music was never just an auditory experience for me; it’s a multi-dimensional journey that touches my mind, body, and soul. It captures the essence of humanity, reflecting our struggles, triumphs, and the myriad of emotions in between. Through music, I find a connection to myself and the world around me—a reminder that we are all part of a greater symphony, intertwined in the messy, but beautiful, dance of life. The path continues.
-Ken
- Mount Pilchuck State Park, Granite Falls, WA
- 48° 4′ 36.696″ -121° 44′ 45.096″
- 7.42 miles | 1,483 elevation gain | ~5 hours
- 45-56 degrees and clear
Musings 