GIFFORD PINCHOT NATIONAL FOREST, WA:
As I turned off Wind River Highway, about 20 miles north of the Washington-Oregon border, I headed down a forest road towards Falls Creek Falls—the rain tapping a steady rhythm on my windshield. With every mile, the lush green scenery transformed into a watercolor masterpiece, vibrant and alive. I parked a mile shy of the trailhead—courtesy of a fallen tree over the roadway—I felt a rush of anticipation. The scent of damp earth filled my lungs as I stepped over the rugged trunk, ready to embrace whatever awaited me on this journey. The rain, rather than a hindrance, became a companion, each droplet a reminder that the path to beauty often requires navigating through challenges. It struck me how much this journey mirrored life—every twist and turn, every obstacle, a lesson waiting to be learned.
Reflecting on the week leading up to today’s hike, I couldn’t help but feel immense gratitude for the connections that have shaped my life. As I drove through the winding, rain-soaked roads, memories of dear friends filled my heart, reminding me that true friendship transcends time and distance. There’s a remarkable comfort in knowing that with certain souls, conversations can pick up as if no years have passed. These thoughts flooded my mind, building gratitude that accompanied me on my early morning drive. Just like the winding trails I traverse, these friendships remind me of the beauty of shared journeys, where we can walk together, even if just for a moment.
Standing at the breathtaking Falls Creek Falls, I couldn’t shake the feeling that nature was calling me to reflect deeper. The power of the cascading water echoed my own journey—each struggle, each moment of beauty intertwined. Today, inspired by the poetry of John Keats, I found myself pondering the cycles of life, love, and grief that resonate within us all. My hike today was not just a physical journey; it was a reminder of the connections we share and the lessons we learn along the way. With a heart full of gratitude and my mind buzzing with thoughts, I prepared to unpack my refections in my journal, eager to capture the essence of today’s musings. Each step on the trail was not just about reaching a destination; it was about celebrating the journey itself, embracing the beauty of each moment, and finding solace in the whispers of nature.
The Journey…
I took a road toward Falls Creek Falls in Gifford Pinchot National Forest, the rain was falling steadily, and had been for days, creating a rhythmic pattern against my windshield, pushed by the wind between swipes of the wipers. Through this mosaic the autumn landscape blurred into a living watercolor painting, each drop enhancing the vibrant hues of the trees. Pulling into a makeshift parking spot just a mile shy of the trailhead—thanks to a fallen tree blocking the road—I felt a rush of anticipation. I stepped over the rugged trunk, the smell of damp earth filling my lungs as I set off down the dirt road, my boots squelching into the mud. The trailhead loomed ahead, marked by a sign warning of closure due to the government shutdown. Yet, with adventure in my heart, I shrugged off the caution. After all, this is about the unexpected twists and turns of the journey, right?
The trail welcomed me with its familiar embrace, though puddles and mud required thoughtful footwork. As I ventured deeper, the rain danced through the towering trees, a soothing symphony of droplets cascading onto leaves, rocks, and the soft earth beneath my feet. The air was thick with the earthy scent of moss and damp wood, an acquired scent of the Pacific Northwest that felt both invigorating and comforting. Each step drew me closer to the sound of rushing water, a melody that drowned out the rain’s delicate notes. I found myself wandering off the main path, drawn to the creek’s edge, where I paused to admire the vibrant fall colors flanking the creek on both sides. It was as if I had stepped into a living painting, each leaf an explosion of reds and golds, singing songs of the season.
After a few miles, I arrived at the magnificent Falls Creek Falls. Water cascaded from heights that seemed almost ethereal, churned by recent storms—I stood in awe of its power and beauty. I settled onto a rock to enjoy a snack and shifted my focus beyond sight and sound, inhaling the rich, layered scents that enveloped me. The aroma of evergreen mingled with the sweet decay of fallen leaves and the musky dampness of the earth. It was a signature scent of the Pacific Northwest, one I wished I could craft into a scented candle to savor by my fireplace later. Embracing the rough weather, I felt a shift within me. Instead of resenting the storm, I welcomed it, knowing it’s a sign of life, and that eventually, it would lead me back to the warmth of my car. This simple reset in my mind transformed my hike into a celebration of nature’s wild beauty, even in its stormiest moments.
Gratitude…
This week’s adventure began the day before my hike, as I made my way to a quaint little place just across the Columbia River in Oregon. With three hours of the drive behind me, I settled into a cozy spot that felt right, now only 40 minutes away from the trailhead accross the gorge in Southern Washington. I visited a local brewery for a burger & pint before slipping into an evening slumber. Early in the morning, I drove through the winding roads which were enveloped in darkness and a dose of Pacific Northwest stormy autumn weather. A familiar sense of serenity filled the space in my car. It’s almost as if the darkness cradled my thoughts, giving me room to reflect on the connections that fill my heart with gratitude. Today, my gratitude flowed toward those special souls in my life whose presence remains unshaken by time or distance. It’s the kind of friendship where you can pick up the conversation just as easily as if no years had passed—no awkwardness, no need for apologies, just pure, unfiltered connection.
As I carefully navigated the winding road, feeling the warmth of those memories, I was reminded that true friendships transcend the constraints of our busy lives. The paths we’ve each traveled may have diverged, been filled with missteps, experienced lessons learned, and challenges faced, but the essence of our connection remains vibrant. There’s a beautiful simplicity in knowing that we don’t have to explain ourselves or justify our absences. Instead, we can embrace the moment together, weaving our stories into the present. This realization filled me with gratitude. Just like the trails I traverse, these friendships are a reminder that our journeys are intertwined, allowing us to walk together, if only for a while.
Reflections…
This morning’s hike carried me through a landscape that felt both familiar and new, a gentle reminder of the cycles of life, which echo in the writings of John Keats. I’ve been exploring poetry lately, and it’s become a comforting companion to parallel these journeys with nature. I used to be intimidated by poetry. I viewed it similar to a daunting mountain peak—glorious, yet perhaps unreachable. But a subtle shift occurred after watching the movie Dead Poets Society years ago. That unforgettable scene where Mr. Keating, played by Robin Williams, who plots the poem’s mechanical evaluation on the chalkboard, using a two-axis diagram, as a student reads from the introduction, “understanding poetry;” after which, Mr. Keating promptly encourages his students to “rip it out!” referring to that page of their textbooks—actually, to rip out the entire introduction.
Suddenly, poetry wasn’t bound to a rigid structure to navigate; it was an open trail to explore, accessible by all—wild, beautiful, and full of surprises. It also is what began my reading of John Keats, not to be confused with the character Mr. Keating, but quite curious. This connection to Keats feels significant. He was born just shy of 200 years before my own son, John, or Jack as we call him, after my late father. I find myself pondering if Keats ever went by a nickname. He faced so much loss—his mother, his father, and ultimately, his own life at just 25. Yet, he transformed his grief, and love, into profound poetry, weaving themes of love, loss, and the transient nature of…well, nature, into his verses. As I hiked today, the trail beneath my feet once again became a metaphor for the paths of my own life. Nature has become my sanctuary, my backdrop, much like it was for Keats.
His poem To Autumn encapsulates this beautifully, celebrating the richness of the season while acknowledging its inevitable passage. I’ve seen this transition firsthand: the wildflower carpets that once danced underfoot in the meadows are now withered, replaced by the beautiful colors of autumn and the first signs of winter. Yet, even in this transformation, there’s a certain beauty, a reminder that every moment is precious. At first, hiking and journaling were escapes—ways to keep busy, to find serenity in solitude. But as time passed, these hikes morphed into something deeper. They became a canvas for growth, a sacred space where I could confront the complexities of love and loss. I admire Keats’ honest expression of emotions, which resonates with my own journey.
His work, particularly La Belle Dame sans Merci, captures the intricate dance of love and grief so beautifully. On this hike, I reflected on how my own experiences mirror his themes. My musings have become a creative process—a way to transform my thoughts into something tangible through creativity. I intentionally don’t plan my hikes ahead of time. Rather, late each week, I choose a trail, identify a trail-thought, and let gratitude guide me. Each week, My creative process is reborn, taking me from a blank canvas to these musings, over just a few short days. I’ve romanticized the process itself, it feels real, alive. One excerpt from La Belle Dame sans Merci struck me in a similar sense:
“She found me roots of relish sweet, / And honey wild, and manna dew, / And sure in language strange she said— / ‘I love thee true.” -John Keats, La Belle Dame sans Merci
This beautifully encapsulates the duality of connection—how love can be both enchanting and bittersweet. I felt that truth resonate to my marrow as I paused in the fresh rain pattering on the trail, the sound melding with the rustling landscape, reminding me of the sweetness of life even amidst sorrow.
In this serenity of nature, I found echoes of Keats’ Ode to a Nightingale. Here, he suggests that nature serves as a backdrop for emotional exploration and healing. Standing among the towering trees and breathtaking falls, I felt very small in the grand beauty that surrounded me, which somehow lessened the weight of my own struggles. I reflect on an excerpt which reminds me that we’re all part of something larger:
“Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird! / No hungry generations tramp thee down; / The voice I hear this passing night was heard / In ancient days by emperor and clown: / Perhaps the self-same song that found a path / Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home, / She stood in tears amid the alien corn.” -John Keats, Ode to a Nightingale
This reflects nature’s timelessness which offers a perspective that transcends our individual hardships, all of us…both “emperors and clowns.”
As I continued along the trail, I was recalled the beauty of transience depicted in To Autumn. The vivid imagery of ripening fruit and the changing seasons mirrored my own journey—each moment unique and fleeting. I thought about how the trails I now traverse, once vibrant with life, will soon be blanketed in snow, or with branches free from leaves. Yet, in that very change lies a beauty that is undeniably rich, much like the warmth and abundance Keats captures:
“Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, / Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun; / Conspiring with him how to load and bless / With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run; / To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees, / And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; / To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells / With a sweet kernel; to set budding more, / And still more, later flowers for the bees, / Until they think warm days will never cease, / For summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells.” -John Keats, To Autumn
Today’s hike was a reminder that life, like nature, is a series of cycles—of joy and sorrow, of growth and decay. I returned home with a heart full of gratitude, ready to unpack my trail-thoughts into my journal, this blog, “Musings.” It’s a memoir of gratitude, a reflection of my learnings, growth, and testament to the healing power of nature, and in this case, poetry. In this creative process, I find not only solace but also a deeper understanding of my journey, one step at a time. The path continues.
-Ken
- Gifford Pinchot National Forest, WA
- 45° 54′ 20.988″ -121° 56′ 23.244″
- 7 miles | 1,183 ft elevation gain | ~3 hours
- Sunrise: 7:40 a.m. 41-46 degrees, Rain & Stormy
Musings 