MOUNT BAKER-SNOQUALMIE NATIONAL FOREST, WA:
Driving toward Snoquera Falls in the early morning darkness, the world outside felt still and serene. Each mile brought a renewed sense of gratitude, especially when I learned that the bridge between Buckley and Enumclaw had reopened, clearing a path without obstacles, making this journey feel a little more special. I reflected on how far I’ve come since my first hesitant steps into hiking. Today’s gratitude may sound like the current zeitgeist vibe of a new trendy eastern philosophy, but it’s so much more!
Reaching the Camp Sheppard parking lot, I stepped onto the Snoquera Falls Loop Trail, where the crisp morning air invigorated my spirit. Anticipation began to build with each step for the sheer beauty of one of the tallest waterfalls on the north side of Mt Rainer National Park. As I hiked deeper, the soft carpet of moss underfoot gave way to rocky terrain, my heart racing with challenging switchbacks of the ascent. And then, I heard it…the sound of water cascading from the cliffs above as I approached the falls.
When I finally arrived at Snoquera Falls, the sight took my breath away. The water cascaded from over 400 feet above, creating a mesmerizing spectacle that felt almost otherworldly. The light mist hit my face and it was a refreshing and invigorating feeling as I gazed up at the sheer cliffs, touched by the morning light. In that moment, I was reminded of resilience; just like the water carving its path down the rocks, I can also navigate life’s obstacles. Sitting in awe, snacking while soaking it all in, was a reminder to cherish the beauty of presence in both nature and life.
The Journey…
Just as the sun began to peek over the horizon at 6:44 AM, I began my adventure on the Snoquera Falls Loop Trail, leaving from the trailhead at Camp Sheppard. The parking lot was surprisingly full for such an early hour, hinting at the allure of this area nestled in the Mount Baker-Snoqualmie National Forest. As I set off, the air was crisp, hovering around 31 degrees, and the birds were just waking up, filling the morning with their joyful songs. The trail felt welcoming with a soft carpet of moss underfoot, and the remnants of fallen branches, creating a gentle cushion that made each step feel almost magical. This lush greenery, with towering trees, felt like stepping into a scene straight out of a whimsical fairytale.
As I hiked deeper, the scenery began to shift subtly. The ground beneath my feet transformed from that plush moss to the rocky terrain that came with elevation gain. I could feel the climb intensifying, my heart rate picking up as I navigated the switchbacks. The fresh scent of the forest mingled with the earthy aroma of freshly-split wood from fallen trees. I couldn’t help but reflect on my thoughts of presence as I moved along, realizing how often we get lost in future worries instead of embracing the beauty of the moment right in front of us. The peacefulness of the surroundings encouraged me to let go of those thoughts, allowing me to soak in the serenity of this beautiful landscape.
Reaching the falls was nothing short of breathtaking, as in taking my breath away in the last scramble. As I approached, I could hear the cascading water before I saw it, softly falling from over four hundred feet above. As a side note: I wrote in my trail journal that it must be at least a couple thousand feet. I verified once off the trail, and clearly don’t have any sense of distance. The mist created by the 400-plus-foot falls gently landed on my face, refreshing me as I gazed up at the sheer cliffs, as it just began to showcase the morning sunlight. The nuances and detail in the view was more stunning than any photograph could capture. I took a moment to pause and enjoy a snack while marveling at the natural spectacle before me. The journey of the water, from the heights above to the snow bed below, and on through the boulders effortlessly, made me think about the beauty of resilience, carving it’s path without concern of obstacles it faces. I think there’s a lesson somewhere in that.
The descent felt different, with the sun’s rays cutting through the trees as I navigated the rocky terrain, now familiar with the trail’s nuances. I reflected in solitude, not having crossed paths with another hiker all day. It was just me, the squirrels, and a chorus of birds accompanying my thoughts. Each step echoed my presence in the quiet of the forest, and I felt a sense of gratitude for the experience. As I neared the end of my hike, I promised myself that someday I would return, perhaps on a warmer day with fresh snowmelt runoff. A burger and brew awaited me on my way out of town, but in the moment, I cherished the stillness, savoring the tranquility I had found among the towering trees.
Gratitude…
As I drove toward Snoquera this morning, the darkness of pre-dawn wrapped around my car, as I had a little heavier than usual eyelids from an enjoyable late night. I left at 5 AM, the world outside still asleep, and I felt a familiar serenity. The road ahead was filled with promise, and the news that the bridge between Buckley and Enumclaw had finally reopened brought a smile to my face. This was a small victory that made this journey feel even more special. By 6:30 AM, I’d arrive at the trailhead, but it was the moments in between that truly mattered. Each mile was a reminder of how far I’ve come in my hiking journey, a journey that began just a year ago when I was riddled with doubts and fears.
Reflecting on that first hike, I can hardly believe the anxiety I felt—questions swirling in my mind: “Would I do it wrong?” “Could I get hurt?” “What do I need?” Cougars and bears loomed large in my imagination, making the very thought of stepping onto a trail feel daunting. Yet here I am today, with over 50 hikes and more than 300 miles under my boots. But it’s not the numbers that are important here, the real catalyst for this transformation was Don Mo. Now, before you think Don Mo reflects the current zeitgeist of a new trendy eastern philosophy, I assure you that Don is a real person; a person I spent working along side for over 20 years.
I had known Don for all those years without ever truly connecting on a personal level. Just days before his retirement, I found myself in his office, a moment that turned out to be the catalyst for where I am today. Don shared his vast knowledge of hiking, instilling in me the courage I needed to step into nature. He even returned a few weeks later with a gift of bear spray, a gift I hope I never need! I’ll always be grateful that we forged that connection before he left. Today, I drive not just toward a trail, but toward a deeper appreciation for the meaningful connections we make along the way.
Reflections…
Today, while hiking, I found myself lost in my trail-thought for the day. It was the kind of thought that swirls around like leaves caught in a gust of wind, with hopes that It would land at some point. I’ve been thinking about the impact of worrying about future events that might never happen. This thought was inspired by something I read by stoic Seneca this week in his essay On Tranquility of Mind: “He suffers more than necessary, who suffers before it is necessary.” I thought, why do I allow my mind to play out these dramatic scenarios that are likely not ever going to happen? This presents a problem of putting myself through two rounds of anxiety: once in my imagination and again if those fears ever became reality. It’s exhausting, really.
As I continued my hike, I thought about how much of my energy goes into this endless cycle of worry. Seneca’s words felt like a nudge to remember that while it’s important to plan for the future, letting anxiety take the wheel is a surefire way to miss out on life’s simple pleasures. Then I recalled the teachings of Eckhart Tolle in his books I read last year, who talks about being present. He makes a strong case that the now is where we truly should live. As I inhaled the crisp mountain air, I had an idea. What if I could shift my focus from the “what ifs” to the “what is”? Is it that simple?
This lightbulb moment got me thinking about how I can put that shift in focus into practice. I thought awareness would be my first step toward breaking free from this type of thinking. Whenever those pesky worries bubble up, I can ask myself, “Can I control this?” Usually, the answer is a resounding no. This pause could be the answer, pulling me back to reality. I started brainstorming some practical tools, but decided to keep it simple. Be aware. Recognize it. Shift thinking.
This aligns with my values to fully embrace the present, savoring the little moments that often slip by unnoticed. I hope to soak it all in without letting worry steal my joy. I’m excited to embark on this journey of intentional presence and awareness. Each moment of awareness, recognition, and shift, will help me to find peace amid the chaos that can sometimes consume my mind. It’s days like today where I realize that when I lace up my boots for another adventure, I get excited to let the trails inspire me, one lesson at a time. The path continues.
-Ken
- Mount Baker-Snoqualmie National Forest, WA
- 47° 2′ 8.952″ -121° 33′ 36″
- 5.4 miles | 1,210 ft elevation gain | 3.5 hours
- Sunrise: 6:44 a.m. 31-38 degrees, clear blue sky
Musings 