To Feel Alive
How often does one get the feeling of ultimate contentment and joy? It’s hard to come by in a world fed by constant hustle and grind, longing for the moments that make us feel like we belong. To live in a period that feeds our fiery hearts and pulls us towards our true purpose in life, is something that seems almost unattainable at times. Ultimately when these moments do come into our presence, what we feel isn’t some dreamy, irrational state of mind; it’s the feeling of being alive.
After two months of stagnant living, I found myself back on the road. The memories to be shared and experienced with another person was something that I was missing dearly, so once again, a friend was along for the ride. Much like my trip to Montana in the summer, this trip was vaguely planned. With only a few spots in mind and the open road ahead, we were off.
The initial route was familiar, following the Lewis River and up the south side of the Gifford Pinchot. Still, with so much familiarity with the area, a feeling of heading into the unknown constantly swept over my mind. I felt this even at Yale Lake, one of the three lakes/reservoirs that lie intertwined with the Lewis River, and a place that has been a frequent destination of mine. With the wild fires still raging to the north and south, the lake was the haziest I’ve ever seen it. I was awe-struck, and we were only 30 minutes into the trip. The energy surrounding the trip was already bright, good things were definitely ahead.
I had heard rumors of a mysterious waterfall within this area for a couple of years. Knowing of its secluded existence, I was immediately drawn to this place. The adventure to get to the waterfall intrigued me more than the destination, I didn’t know how to get there or what to expect.
This jaunt represented “bush whacking” at its finest, as we were in a constant battle with shrubbery in our way. There was no designated trail for the most part, which alluded to the waterfalls solitary confinement. Eventually making it down to the creek, we realized there was no waterfall in sight. Using my drone like a bird in the sky, we noticed that we had undershot the waterfall by quite the distance. It was time to make our own trail. We climbed rocks and logs, jumped across ravines and the frigid creek, all while getting our fair share of splinters. The struggles were no doubt there, but we were in awe at how fun it was to carve our own path through the wild, constantly thinking “I wonder what other human has set foot right here with us?” A sense of forgetfulness for the busy world around us filled our minds, and grounded us instead into the present moment we were living. It was a beautiful feeling, one that I’ll never forget. Needless to say, I would take that route a hundred times more before I found the actual hidden trail, because the journey we took meant something more to me, and that’s what’s important.
The presence of a warm cooked meal is always so heart warming after a long days journey in the woods. Especially when shared with another person, it really can’t be a more enjoyable experience. We had some difficulty finding our first campsite of the trip, constantly looking for a suitable/secluded spot. In the end, a roadside pullout was our last option, as the light from the day was running slim. It didn’t matter to us where we camped though, because we were feeling good. We were happy. And although the night was frigid, and the hours of sleep were few and far between, this little experience will be a memory forever engraved in my head.
The dim morning light brought a sense of renewal, like we were about to relive a dream all over again. Waiting for our cars to warm up and wiping the condensation off of the windows, the journey was just about to restart. Northbound was now the new objective, knowing that we wanted to find ourselves amongst Pahto’s (Mt. Adams) shadows for much of the trip. Things still felt like that dream that kept replaying in my head, a feeling of ultimate freedom and possibility. Could life get any better?
The light of day was finally here, allowing us to resume our exploration throughout the Gifford Pinchot. Stopping at a mountain lake to start the morning off, we were greeted with what felt like our first breath of brisk fall air in the mountains. The previous day had been so hazy and gloomy towards the end that we hadn’t had that refreshing first breath that always seems so noticeable as you enter the mountains. Here though, amongst the frosted pines, morning dew and the moon above, we were able to find that slice of peace with ease.
It’s moments like this that I tried to not take for granted on this trip. Just being able to breathe, let alone breathe some of the freshest air around was such a blessing. It’s funny how the simple acts of our five senses can go easily unnoticed in our busy lives. While here in natures presence, nothing seems to be overlooked and every action taken is as enjoyable as the last. I caught myself in this sensation of gratitude often on this trip, but it was the mornings like this one when I especially felt it the most.
To close my eyes and imagine life as a bird is something I often do when out in nature. To see things from above, a perspective that’s often foreign to us humans, is really quite special. The morning glow was just starting to hit the frozen trees, alpine lakes and the mountains in the distance. I felt childish wishing that I could fly and see the Earth from this perspective whenever I pleased, but it wasn’t a childish feeling I was embarrassed about. In fact, this whole trip made me feel like a kid again; running around with not a care in the world, swimming in alpine lakes simply because I wanted to, there was absolutely nothing that could stop me from living my best life. Sometimes as adults of a modern society, we forget that it’s okay to have fun and to play a little. Do stuff that makes you happy, dream about things that sparks that inner child in you, and most of all, have fun with life.
The mist of a nearby waterfall hit our faces as we stood and admired its beauty. Moments of awe and silence were very abundant on this trip, and this was one of them. I can’t express enough the magic that lies within gazing at nature in the middle of the wild. Even a small stream like this made my mind wonder and so curious about the land that surrounded me. Where was this creek going? Who found this place? Questions like these were the types that really rooted me into this experience. I know Braxton was thinking some of the same things, as we continuously talked about our wonders throughout the whole trip. That’s what so special about sharing an adventure with someone else, you get to hear their thoughts and see their excitement right along with yours. In my opinion, that’s what amplifies an experience, being able to create memories with a great friend.
Pictured here is Braxton in one of those silent admiration settings, one of many that we lived through on this trip.
Sometimes all that’s needed to find peace is something simple. There isn’t always some big catch of going to far away vistas to experience the most grounding experience in nature, because nature for me is all about reconnecting to our roots, and that’s exactly what this little roadside waterfall did for me. Arranged in three tiers and no doubt coming off of Pahto’s western flank, this waterfall was the ultimate break spot for us as we continued our journey through the Gifford Pinchot. This was the first place (besides my car at night) that I actually stopped to journal at. Something magical lies within sitting next to a cascading waterfall and dumping out whatever’s in your head onto paper. It’s grounding for sure, but it’s the feeling of simple living that got me this time. Appreciating what was right in front of me was easy to do when I could write about it, on top of that drinking the ice cold water was another way of letting myself soak in the present moment. Within a 30 minute timespan, I felt like I had got to know this place inside and out. I drank the water, I wrote about its beauty and I stared at the massive Douglas firs that surrounded the creek bed. This was Shinrin Yoku (forest bathing) for me, and it was perfect.
Our first glimpse of what would be our next campsite was nothing short of a speechless moment. I had always wanted to visit an alpine lake that stood in the shadows of a snowcapped mountain, and now that dream had finally came true. As soon as I saw what was probably the most beautiful sight on the trip so far, I couldn’t help but think of old Spirit Lake before Loowit blew and changed the landscape forever. Spirit Lake used to reflect Mt. St. Helens just like this one did with Pahto. We stared and walked around the lakeside for what felt like hours, watching the still water and the occasional trout swim by. I couldn’t wait to wake up to this view in the morning.
It’s crazy how fast you can lose track of time while out in nature. We had just set out for a mini exploration in the nearby mountains surrounding our campsite, roaming around with only one purpose: to explore. Things were good, there was no one else in sight, the forests were quiet and the views were spectacular. We made it to the top of a mountain where the road eventually came to an abrupt end due to a Douglas fir across the road, that’s when we noticed that we were potentially going to miss sunset at the lake. Any photographer who loves golden hour knows the feeling that we had, desperation to get back and get the shots we needed. Cruising down one lane forest roads at 35-40 mph was one of the most exhilarating and frightening experiences of my life. I can still remembering rounding the corners holding my breath, hoping that there wasn’t a car coming. It was clear that we weren’t missing sunset at the lake for anything. Another core memory created, one filled with laughs and intense moments. Needless to say we successfully made it back in time and even managed to get the drones up for golden hour.
The first photo pictures the mountains we were up in not even 30 min before this was taken. There were so many interesting peaks out there that I will surely be exploring in the future (maybe a little slower pace exploration as well). Next shows Tahoma in the nearby skyline, towering above the pines below.
Pictured here is the last drone shot I took that night before putting away all the cameras and just sitting with the intent to enjoy the peace that surrounded us. As I was flying the drone, a man who was kayaking in the lake approached the shoreline that we were standing on and started a conversation with us. He was an elderly man, who no doubt had had his fair share of visits to this location. He told us about his stories and his travels around this area, as well as some recommendations for other spots that he thought might pique our interest. This was a conversation that I very much enjoyed, as I got to bond with yet another storyteller on this trip. This time though, it was someone who had seen, heard and experienced many more things than I have in life, and therefore had much more to tell. This was a humbling experience as much as it was inspirational. I remember thinking to myself that I wanted to be just like him when I grow older: a traveller, a tale teller and a dreamer.
Braxton and I ended the night reviewing that day we had just experienced while sitting on the shore of the lake. We quickly watched blue hour turn into a starry night as we rambled on about how crazy this trip had been. I think it’s safe to say that it reinforced our identity’s as explorers of this Earth, and that was a feeling that brought so much joy. The sky was bright with stars and the silhouette of Pahto could still be seen across the lake. We each counted three shooting stars and eventually called it. What a great night that was.
Blue hour and sunrise at one of the most beautiful locations in the Gifford Pinchot. The juxtaposition between the end of a day and a new beginning. This was our last couple of hours staring at this incredible view, a place I’ll miss dearly, but will most certainly be back to in the very near future. It’s spots like this that make nature so much more enticing. A spot that makes you feel like you belong and brings the most out of you. A place that holds a special meaning in your heart. Whatever it is, and wherever it is, cherish these places for the rest of your life. They make you who you are and they make you feel alive.
On our way down from the high country we went. As we passed through alpine forests and eventually made it to more deciduous greens, it felt like the end of the journey was near. It was that far too familiar feeling of a trip coming to a close, a feeling that you sometimes never want to experience. It was in this moment that soaking up every second from here to the journey’s end was the most important thing on our minds. It’s no joke that time really does fly when you’re having fun, especially when you’re connected to what feels like your life purpose. All in all, the sun was out and the water was glistening. The Universe wanted us to have fun still and not feel low-spirited over what was to come, so that’s what we did. “Stay present” I constantly reminded myself, “the beauty is in the moment”.
Here we were at the end of another mighty adventure. What a memorable four day experience this was, filled with exciting, beautiful and mysterious moments. A stop at the infamous Lewis River Falls was the final destination for us. I can still remember how the sun was shining through the pines that evening; like blades of light. The chill October breeze most certainly filled the air, but that didn’t stop us from soaking up our final spot of the trip. We walked across logs, skipped rocks, dunked our heads in the brisk water and eventually ended up swimming in the river itself. We both didn’t want the trip to end, but unfortunately the time had come. “Till next time” I thought, already planning out my next venture into this part of Washington. This state truly has so much to offer that it’s crazy to think that there’s still so much to this world than just the PNW. A life of exploring and telling stories, now that sounds alright. That’s what makes me feel alive.
