MOUNT BAKER-SNOQUALMIE NATIONAL FOREST, NACHES, WA:
As the sun began to rise over the horizon, casting a rich blend of deep red, burnt orange, and a golden hue on the familiar terrain, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of renewal. My drive to the Sheep Lake Trailhead had been marked by unexpected detours, including the closure of the Buckley Bridge, yet even those delays became part of the adventure. There’s something magical about driving through the stillness of dawn, the world draped in shadows, allowing space for quiet reflection. It’s in these moments that I gather my thoughts and ponder the lessons life has offered me. Today, I was eager to embrace the trail ahead, promising gentle ascents and breathtaking views. I was seeking not just the beauty of nature, but also the clarity it brings to my tangled emotions. The rhythmic crunch of dirt and gravel beneath my boots reminded me of both a literal and metaphorical path, guiding me through the complexities of gratitude and reflection that have been my steady companions in recent weeks.
As I set forth on my hike, surrounded by what promised to be a tapestry of autumn’s colors which would be revealed when the sun crested the horizon, I felt an undeniable connection to the world around me. Each step reminded me of the delicate balance between life, love, and gratitude—elements that have been at the forefront of my mind during these past couple weeks, which have been filled with unexpected lows. Amidst the stunning backdrop of the Cascades, I found solace in the realization that even in my struggles, there are moments of light and grace. Those fleeting instances of joy, much like the sun peeking through the trees, reminded me of our shared humanity. I carry the warmth of gratitude for those who offer grace when the weight of grief feels too heavy to bear. In this quiet sanctuary, I learned to celebrate not just the journey on the trail, but also the journey within myself, recognizing that vulnerability is a bridge to deeper connections.
When I reached the summit, I gazed out over the expansive landscape and was struck by the profound truth that we are all navigating our own mountains of emotion—some visible, others hidden beneath the surface. Today’s “trail-thought” served as a gentle nudge to acknowledge my struggles as well as the ones of those around me. Each person I encounter carries their own battles, often unseen, and it’s this shared experience of vulnerability that fosters empathy. I found myself reflecting on the importance of compassion, not only for others but for myself as well. By embracing my own mountains, and by understanding the need to pause and breathe, I can cultivate kindness in a world often overshadowed by impatience. As I descended, I felt lighter, nourished by the wisdom imparted through nature, and ready to weave today’s journey into my musings, where I can celebrate the beauty of connection and the strength found in vulnerability.
The Journey…
After nearly a two-hour drive, slightly extended by the Buckley Bridge closure, I arrived at the trailhead for Sheep Lake and Sourdough Gap, just northeast of Mount Rainier. The journey through Chinook Pass was a peaceful retreat, a calming prelude to the adventure that awaited me, only broken by the occasional coyote howling in the distance. Arriving before sunrise, the world was still shrouded in shadows, teasing me with the beauty that was about to unfold. This trailhead, nestled just beyond Naches Peak, felt like a warm welcome back after my visit to the area just a few weeks ago. It was comforting to return to this familiar landscape, like revisiting an old friend. I embarked on my hike, a 7-mile journey with a gentle ascent of 1,283 feet, eager to embrace what lay ahead. The first stretch led me to the tranquil waters of Sheep Lake, its cold, crystal-clear surface reflecting the colorful landscape and awakening sky. This was just one gift along the beautiful four and a half hour journey.
Here, I paused, letting the serenity of the moment wash over me, pondering the delicate balance of life, love, and gratitude that often revisits my thoughts during these hikes. As I continued towards Sourdough Gap, the trail began to incline gently. The vibrant displays of the changing season was a joyous sight with spring and summer retreating, and autumn popping with color against the grays, greens and browns of the landscape. The sun began to rise, illuminating peaks that could feel its warmth. Dust swirled around my feet with each step, a reminder of the earth’s presence beneath me, grounding me as I ascended. The trail was well-maintained, and dust turned to rock, inviting me to keep pushing forward. The last stretch towards Sourdough Gap became steep, but it was manageable, each step a test of determination. As I reached the gap, I was greeted by breathtaking panoramas of the cascades and a view from the lake I had just visited.
It felt as if the mountains were sharing their stories with me, tales of endurance and beauty that echoed through the ages. I took a moment to walk a bit further on the trail, cresting over the peak of Sourdough Gap. There, I discovered another incredible view of the cascades from a different perspective, the view stretching out like a canvas painted with nature’s finest colors. Another hiker commented, “beautiful in all directions, isn’t it?” I shared that sentiment and breathed deeply, feeling a profound sense of connection to the world around me. This hike was not just a physical journey but a soulful one, a reminder of the beauty that surrounds us and the gratitude we can hold in our hearts. As I descended, the dust and rocks on the trail felt less like an inconvenience and more like a testament to the adventure I had embraced. I left feeling refreshed, nourished by nature’s beauty and the silent wisdom it shared with me.
Gratitude…
There’s no other way to slice this: I’ve struggled for a couple of weeks now. For someone who generally travels through life without much emotional volatility, these past weeks have felt like a series of unexpected dips and turns. I’ve spent more time in the lows than I care to admit, working to unravel the knot of emotions tied tightly in my chest. Yet, amid this turbulence, there were fleeting moments of joy—brief, radiant bridges appearing when I needed them most. As I sat in the driver’s seat reflecting on the quiet roads which were cloaked in darkness, only Kelly’s playlist and the soft hum of my vehicle broke the silence. It’s a quiet solitude, an unhurried space where I could gather my thoughts feeling anticipation for the day’s journey. The sunrise awaits, carrying the promise of new beginnings. These early morning drives have become a metaphor for my journey through shadows, seeking light. In these lower moments, I tend to retreat inward.
Solitude brings solace, but there’s a special warmth I feel in helping others, like the sun breaking the horizon—a life hack that lifts me from my struggles. A few souls around me see through the façade, gently inquiring and offering their presence. Their patience and grace is appreciated. This week, I’m grateful for those who offer grace. In its truest form, grace is a gentle reminder of our shared humanity—flawed and beautiful in our imperfections. It’s about forgiveness, understanding, and compassion flowing freely. When someone listens actively, it allows me to find my voice at my own pace, where trust flourishes, deepening our connection. As I drive through the early morning darkness, I carry this gratitude in my heart. The sun will rise again, casting light on the trails waiting for my footsteps. With each hike, I remember the grace that lifts me, the patience that holds me, and the beauty of the journey, both on and off the trail.
Reflections…
As I laced up my hiking boots just a short distance beyond another familiar trail, I found myself not just walking along the ridge—I was also navigating the intricate landscape of my thoughts. Today, my “trail-thought” served as a gentle reminder of the connections we share, even with those we may never truly know. We all have “stuff” going on, something that consumes our minds and shapes our interactions. Lately, I’ve been struggling, a bit more than usual. The weight of loss has reemerged as an ever-present companion on my journey. Reminding me that healing isn’t linear; it doesn’t aspire to the idea of “two steps forward, one step back.” Instead, I realize I can return to the beginning at any point in time, akin to a cruel game of Monopoly, where you don’t even get to “pass go,” or collect your rewards. My heart aches for Kelly, and in this past couple weeks, grief has wrapped itself around me like a heavy fog, putting me in what feels like an unbreakable funk. It’s a struggle that requires me to forge ahead, even when my spirit feels reluctant.
This emotional journey is a trek through peaks and valleys, filled with days spent keeping my head down and staying busy, trying to outrun the grief. Yet, in these moments, curiosity peaks my interest: “Can people see me?” I wonder. Not just the exterior, but the depths of my struggles. When I smile or engage in small talk, do others recognize the mountain I’m climbing, the emotional landscape I’m traversing? I hope not—I wouldn’t wish this heaviness on anyone, nor want to burden them with mine, but I fear that I can’t mask it either. So I keep to myself for the most part. Thinking about this, I recalled standing in a crowd over a year ago, surrounded by unfamiliar faces full of stories, each person carrying their own burdens. It struck me then: “Do they know I’m grieving?” Of course not. Each of us is locked in our own internal battle, often hidden beneath a facade of normalcy. Then I recalled the essence of a passage shared by author, Brianna Wiest:
“Every human being you know, everyone you walk past on the street, everyone you judge, everyone you think you dislike, everyone that you think is nothing like you—they are also fighting a quiet battle inside them. There is a hurt inside of them that feels quite a lot like your own. The faces of our demons may differ; we may call them various names, and we may feel their presence more at some times than others, but, at the end of the day, they all haunt us in similar ways. This is what it really means to come into deep awareness of what it means to be human—to understand that we all live with an internal longing of some kind. Have compassion because no matter how it appears on the surface, every person, including you, has a mountain all their own.”
This passage beautifully encapsulates the essence of shared struggles. It’s a reminder that beneath the surface, we all harbor our own pains and challenges. As I hiked today, I felt a shift in perspective. I was reminded to see the world through empathy, but more importantly, to simply “see” the world, to be aware. When someone appears to be abrasive or distant, I can pause and consider what mountains they might be climbing. Perhaps they too are navigating their own valleys of challenge or sorrow. This understanding opens a path to compassion, allowing me to connect with others on a deeper level. But the trail also beckons me to look inward, to acknowledge my own mountains—the personal struggles I face. I find it essential to keep busy, but recognizing my struggles is also essential. By doing so, I can better understand myself and, in turn, extend that understanding to others. Like the flight crew tells you just before take-off, “you need to put your own mask on first.”
In this journey, I’ve learned to pause before judging—both others and myself. And, when frustration bubbles up, to take a moment to breathe and consider what others might be experiencing. This transforms impatience into kindness. I’ve also learned to share my mountains—my vulnerabilities—with trusted friends and family, and to allow them to share theirs with me, forging deeper connections. Practicing mindfulness through reflection allows me to process my feelings and acknowledge my internal battles. The stillness of nature encourages this introspection, helping me find clarity amidst the chaos. As I continued my hike, I was reminded that we are all on this messy, complicated journey of life together. By embracing each other, we cultivate both empathy and compassion—not just for one another, but for ourselves. The path continues.
-Ken
- Mount Baker-Snoqualmie National Forest, Naches, WA
- 46° 52′ 31.08″ -121° 31′ 4.764″
- 7 miles | 1,283 ft elevation gain | ~4.5 hours
- Sunrise: 6:37a.m. 50-63 degrees and clear
Musings 