A New Wardrobe and a New Perspective

Getting in an accident back in November of 2011 finally paid off.

I've been looking at my kids shoes lately, especially Ben's, and can't seem to wrap my mind around why his toes are sticking out of his sneakers! It's not like he doesn't get new shoes a couple times a year, and, seriously, who walks on the top of their toes?!!! I'm not talking about walking on tip toes, I'm talking about the part of the toe that actually grows hair!!! I couldn't take it anymore.

It was a rainy afternoon and the kids seemed cooped up with extra energy as they waited for their dad to pick them up for the weekend. They still had a couple of hours to wait so I decided to take them to Old Navy and try a little experiment. Yes, a certain amount of fear set in with the thought of taking five children clothes shopping all at once, but I was able to push that aside. I wanted to let each of them pick out their own clothes, whatever they wanted, because I realized I've never really allowed them to choose their own style.

When we entered the store, I think we all felt like we were in uncharted territory. This is just not something I do with them! Any clothes shopping gets done by me alone, when I can get away by myself, and then it only happens out of necessity since it's really not one my favorite things to do.
I had two rules that I refused to bend on, even if it contradicted my kids' choices: No clothes for the girls that would be too tight, too short, or too skimpy, and no shoes that had cartoon characters on them (the first rule is for modesty, the second is just a pet peeve of mine).

When we arrived at the children's clothing section, I set the boys loose and told them to go find some clothes that they liked. They looked at me like I was joking, like I would pull back the reins if they actually did that. Slowly they started wandering around but they couldn't even decide where to start. "How about some shorts?" I said trying to get them started. Benjamin immediately picked up what I considered the least desirable pair in the store. They were camouflage green and bright orange exercise-like shorts that felt like they were made of spandex. It took every ounce of willpower not to try to persuade him to find something else. He seemed quite satisfied though, so I said nothing. I told him to find a shirt to wear with the shorts. He couldn't decide so I suggested a green one that would tone down the loudness of the shorts, "But it's just plain green!" was his reply. "How about this one?" I said holding up a white shirt with bright green sleeves. He didn't look the least bit interested. Then he reminded me why I usually pick out their clothes, he picked up a black shirt with all the Angry Birds on it. The shirt didn't have a single color in it that matched his shorts, but it would look fine with jeans so I led him over to the jeans....he wanted black ones.

Hunter and Samuel took awhile picking out T-shirts, and I had to prompt them to look at jeans and shorts as well. Finally Samuel decided on some clothes quite similar to something I would actually pick out for him, and Hunter chose the same shirt and shorts. I told them to get some jeans as well. "Mom, how do you think skinny jeans would look on me?" Hunter said to me in all seriousness. I tried to dissuade him because skinny jeans are not my thing, and his legs are...how can I put this, SKINNY!! But he seemed to have his heart set on them, so I told him to try them on.

With the boys' satisfied with their choices, we headed over to the girls' department. I told the girls the same thing, "Go, find the clothes you want". Cecelia took that to heart and darted straight to the frilliest, ruffliest shirt I'd ever seen. The problem was she thought it was a dress because it was meant for older girls. I felt bad to tell her no, because she seemed to be eyeing the shirt the whole time the boys were shopping. It didn't dampen her mood though and she ran from rack to rack finding what she wanted and holding the item up to the front of herself, she'd ask, "Does this fit me?" It was fun watching her and she had all of us (and a few on-lookers) laughing. Isabelle was pretty laid back and easy going, which was a surprise to me. She immediately wanted a purple shirt with Spiderman on the front, but after that she actually wanted my help.

Finally it was time for the six of us to hit the fitting rooms. We found a handicap one that fit all of us at one time (I figured having to try on multiple outfits on five kids was a handicap). The clothes started flying in all directions as the old ones came off and the new ones went on. Hunter's "skinny" jeans didn't even fit him like skinny jeans and he was quite satisfied with them....so was I. Ben's crazy shorts hung down to his ankles and couldn't be cinched so they kept falling to the floor even though they were an extra small. (I smiled a secret inward happy smile over this while trying to act disappointed for him) Later he picked out a cute pair of colorful plaid shorts that although his choice, I was very happy about. Cecelia ended up choosing a black and white summer dress, a shirt with purple and gray paisleys in it and a skirt that just screams "CECELIA". It was like a silver tutu with ruffles that never end.

As we headed to the checkout line I realized Ben's shoe problem wasn't solved so we hurried back to the back of the store and he tried on a pair of gray canvas sneakers with the brightest orange laces I'd ever seen. He loved them, so we bought them too.

Up to this point we were having fun and everyone was behaving wonderfully. Then we entered the maze from hell that Old Navy makes you walk through in order to reach the checkout counters. The maze is lined with cheap trinkets and candy and gum and all sorts of things kids think they simply cannot live without. I was suddenly bombarded with an onslaught of whiny "Pleases, and why nots". I felt like I was shooting 'Thanks-a-lot' darts with my eyes at the workers. I made it through, however, without giving in, not even with Hunter's promises to 'pay me back'.

It felt good buying all my kids clothes to their liking. It was a rare treat, not only for them, but for me as well. I got a little insight into their personalities, and some of their likes and dislikes really surprised me.

I thank God that none of us were seriously hurt in the accident that occurred last fall on Isabelle's birthday....but in a strange way, I also thank God that it happened.

Lovin' life,

Gina.

Procrastination Has It's Bonuses!

 “If it weren’t for the last minute, I wouldn’t get anything done.” – Unknown

This is often true for me....unfortunately. I often tell myself I will not  procrastinate about this or that, but then I procrastinate not procrastinating. Last night, however, my procrastination paid off. The camping chairs and some equipment still had not been put away and was conveniently resting on our front porch. This fueled the desire to roast hot dogs and marshmallows (this is weird, because I don't even like hot dogs or marshmallows). It was Thursday, which is my Friday professionally speaking, so it was time to relax. I pulled out our small propane fueled fire pit made by Camp Chef. It looks like the portable fire pits that you can burn wood in, however, this burned propane and has pumice-like fire rocks to make it look natural.

With the fire lit, we arranged the chairs around it and pulled out the roasting sticks that were still conveniently not packed away. We had hot dogs for dinner and roasted marshmallows for dessert (not quite s'mores as I was out of graham crackers).

That set the mood for a fun evening of street baseball and marshmallow target shooting (the kids made marshmallow shooters from PVC pipe at Cub Scout camp, and we shot mini mallows at each other). We read from Shel Silverstein's, "Falling Up" around the fire, when it got dark. We laughed at the poems, we laughed at each other and at ourselves.

I remember smiling to myself thinking, "What if I had put all the camping equipment away the day I got home?" More likely than not, that fun evening never would have happened. Or maybe it would have.....

When summer break began, it seemed like we were all constantly at each other's throats more than usual. The kids couldn't seem to get along, I was irritated because of it, and nobody was having much fun. It bothered me and I knew something had to be done but it seemed like all my efforts were fruitless.  Then, two weeks ago,as I sat in the pew at church on Sunday listening to the sermon a realization struck me. I can't remember what the priest was talking about other than this lesson that has stuck with me: sometimes we think we can do it all and we try and try and come up empty handed, but we aren't meant to do it alone, God is waiting for us to ask Him for help.

When I heard this my prayers took on a new focus. "Help me to accomplish the duties of my vocations as mother, and help my children and myself to have charity in our hearts for one another." It is a simple act of invoking God's help, but it has made a difference in our family's dynamics. Not to say there are no longer squabbles and lack of patience, but there certainly is less of it, or perhaps it is just easier to handle now that we aren't relying on our own weak powers.
Cheers!

love,
Gina.

Times Speeds Up as We Slow Down

We left an hour later than planned, which was just about right. The kids were well fed as I locked the door to the house without that nagging feeling that I was forgetting something important. We needed to make one stop for gas, ice and propane. This turned into three stops....for gas, ice and propane; each place I stopped at had one but not the others. Finally we were on our way. The morning sun was shining gloriously bright and it gave me an energy that pushed me on in spite of my kids never failing desire to bicker in the car. If there is anyone out there with two or more kids that has discovered the key to preventing siblings from fighting in the car, I would love to know your secret!


The two hour drive to Packwood, a small town just south of Mt. Rainier in the Gifford Pinchot National Forest, was pleasant (after the initial war of words between my children). We drove through the logging town of Morton, into the tiny town of Randle where we stopped for a snack and potty break; our destination was just 20 minutes away but sometimes these things just cannot wait. \


After being jolted relentlessly by the potholes that marred the gravel forest roads, we arrived to our campsite to find a roaring fire, several tents and Mike and Tina's trailer already set up. Tina had yet to arrive with two of their girls, but Mike and their other five children, and my brother, sister-in-law and their two boys had been camping since the evening prior.


We pulled in, opened the van doors and like magic....my children disappeared! I wish I could say that my ten and eight-year-old spent some time helping me unpack and set up camp...but that wasn't the case, they literally disappeared into the woods with their cousins. This, in a way, was a bigger help to me than anything else. I was able to take my time setting up without running over one of them or beckoning to their every whim.


Once we had the tent up, and the kitchen area arranged to my liking....the kids were asking to eat. It was to be the first time I got to use our new Browning two burner range. It was, however, Friday and, as Catholics, we had to forgo meat. As easily, easier actually, than if I had been at home, I folded shredded Mexican blend cheese into a tortilla to make quesadillas and fried it over the griddle....times fifteen. It was a perfect lunch that was gobbled down by overly hungry campers. Then I got to do what I had been longing to do for a long time.....I sat.


I sat around the fire, closed my eyes, and relaxed. Then I became more active...I read a little, and observed the activity of those around me. The forest around us watched the kids, as well as the bugs that entertained them and the six inch deep creek nearby that they wanted so desperately to play in, but found the glacial water to be too painfully numbing.


For supper we enjoyed foil packets of shrimp, salmon, calamari, and scallops cooked with fresh zucchini over the fire. I've said it before....I generally eat better when living in the woods than at my own home! That evening, all the kids entertained us with skits, poems, jokes and songs that they had practiced at home or put together in a matter of minutes. My favorite skit was put on by the boys and went as follows:

Donovan to Samuel: "That's a nice shirt, where'd you get it?"
Samuel: "J.C. Penny"
Donovan to Thomas: "Those are nice shoes, where'd you get em?"
Thomas: "J.C. Penny"
Donovan to Hunter: "Those are nice pants, where'd you get em?"
Hunter: "J.C. Penny"
Donovan to Ben (who comes out from behind a tree wearing nothing but his boxers); "Who are you?!!"
Ben: "J.C. PENNY!!"

Yeah, that had us laughing. The sky was still clear as the fire blazed hot. Voices faded as we got lost in our own thoughts...everyone waiting for the first person to claim they were going to bed, so they wouldn't have to be first. We have a big two room tent that could easily fit the six of us,  but Hunter and Ben were excited to stay the night with their big cousin, Donovan....that was until Aunt Tina scared Ben with a scary story about a ghostly voice searching for her golden arm, then he decided he would stay near me. With the girls sound asleep, the boys and I wearily wandered off to the tent. We fell quickly asleep.


Saturday morning we cooked omelets in a Zip-Loc bag submerged in boiling water. A table was set up with cooked bacon pieces, diced ham, sausage crumbles, mushroom, chopped bell peppers, onions, chives, parsley, cilantro, spices and eggs. Each person dictated what they wanted in theirs, squished it around in a baggie with their name on it, and gave to the person manning the pot of boiling water. No dishes, easy clean-up!


We were to be joined that day by my Uncle Tony and Aunt Kim. Tina volunteered to stay at camp with the youngest kids, so from Benjamin on up, the rest of us left to hike to Lake Packwood. It was four-and-a-half miles one way. The trail led us through a moss-covered forest with peek-a-boo views of snow covered mountains. Water leaked here and there from the rocky walls allowing us to cool off every now and then with a cold "shower". The older kids left us in the dust saying they wanted to catch up to Uncle Tony and his party, so seven year olds, Benjamin and Keira, were accompanied by my brother-in-law, Mike, and I.


The trail was cut out of a relatively steep forested mountainside. To the right the mountain was an acute 45 degrees up, and to the left was the opposite angle plunging steeply downhill. Everywhere we hiked we could here the sound of distant rushing water, whether it was an up-and-coming waterfall, or the river down below. The woods were bedecked with pink trillium and white daisies. Giant fallen Douglas fir hinted to us that the forest isn't always as peaceful as it was that day. The temperature was warmer than we had expected, and dressed for cooler weather, we always welcomed the gentle but inconsistent breeze that surprised us when we'd least expected it.


I might add here that Benjamin did not stop talking the entire four and a half miles to the lake. I tried to get him to listen to the sounds of nature that one can only hear when one is silent....but he preferred the sound of his own voice. At some point he found a thin tree branch that curved around like a fishing pole while reeling in the catch of the day....he named it Stringy. Stringy the stick, became his best friend that day. He talked to it....it talked back. For awhile, I wondered if he even remembered I was there. I do believe, however, that it was Stringy's companionship...that got him through the nine miles we hiked that day. After all, since his legs are half the length of mine, I decided him walking nine miles was the equivalent to me walking eighteen miles. What a champ!!


Lake Packwood was a hidden gem! As we approached, the emerald green of its waters showed through the evergreens that still blocked our view. While at the edge of the lake, wonder at God's creation filled me with awe. The large lake was nestled amidst the trees and its clear waters sparkled in the sun. A small island beckoned from the middle of the lake but was only accessible by the birds who were lucky to claim it as home. Large fallen trees became part of the landscape at the edge of the lake and we walked out on them to soak our tired feet in the icy water. It was silent. Still. Beautiful.


After we'd eaten the lunches we'd packed, and rested sufficiently, it was decided to take the forest road that was supposedly shorter and flatter, but still returned to the same location we started. The flatter aspect was questionable right from the start as we were panting out of breath within the first 100 yards from the continuous steepness of the rocky road. But, after awhile, it did straighten out. Then the 'shorter' aspect was questioned as we seemed to be walking forever. Uncle Tony, Ben and I fell behind the pack on account of Ben's short legs. His voice eventually trailed off and his once non-stop
chattering gave way to worried silence. He still carried Stringy, but neither of them were talking now. The views we encountered were well worth the long hike. Glimpses of the mountain in the background were accompanied by the feathery look of endless evergreens stretching for miles and miles below us. Among the trees snaked the curving Cowlitz River.


The only words Ben spoke were, "Stringy is tired, he wants to sit down." I urged him on by telling him to imagine that he'd just walked across the country like Peter Jenkins and all he had left to reach his destination were these last two miles. I told him to imagine that the rest of the group were waiting there to cheer him to the end. I think this imagery might have helped me more than it did him.


We made it though, and the group was waiting to cheer Ben on. It was a great moment. I told him he walked farther than I ever had at his age and his face lit up with confidence.


The rest of the evening we relaxed. I made a pot of jambalaya and Tina cooked hobo stew in tin foil over the fire. She also made candy bar cake in honor of Father's Day. A wave of sadness rushed over me seeing the kids wishing their uncles Happy Father's Day instead of their own dad. With resignation he let me take them camping because he knew it wasn't intentional, me having them on Father's Day. But the fact that life for my children isn't ideal made me retire that evening with a heavy heart.


Before we knew it, we were packing up to head home, then we were home. How can it be that when we participate in an activity such as camping, when we are living simply, slowing down to enjoy the people we love in the places we love, that the time seems to speed up? The weekend flew by, and now we are back to the routine that is our life.


I was asked the other day when describing how much fun the kids had while camping, "And what do you get out of all this?" I get to pause. I get to sit. I get to be in surroundings that take my breath away. I was amazed when my sister and I were sitting around the fire and my nephew came up and out of boredom asked, "Aren't we going to do something?" Our response, "We are doing something!" That's what I love about camping, we get to be doing something, while doing nothing....no excuses necessary.


Happy Days to all,


love,




Gina.



top left: Rosie and Cece putting on their own 'skit'. Top Right and down: Cousins, Keira, Rosie and Cecelia at camp, The boys putting on a skit for the parents, Everyone bows and curtsies, Isabelle and Cecelia at bedtime. Bottom Left: Cecelia at camp, Bottom middle: Isabelle singing a song for entertainment.




Top Left: Ben and Stringy; Top Right and Down: Refreshing myself under mountain spring water, Ben cooling off, Ben and I (and Stringy) at Packwood Lake; Bottom Left: Ben and I on way back from the lake, Bottom Middle: Ben and Uncle Tony (and Stringy)




View of the Cowlitz River from the Packwood Lake trail.



Why I do this.....

"Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away."

Well, I am practically breathless right now! Why? Because I spent the last two days, minus the hours at my job, preparing to go camping with five kids. My shoulders ache, my legs feel like rubber...and my eyes burn; partly from the two onions I just chopped, partly from need of sleep.

For one of my wedding showers, the guests all gave us camping gear. It was the best shower because although the outdoors were a passion my future husband and I shared, we lacked all the tools to really enjoy our experiences in the woods. We got a cooler full of camping odds and ends, matching camping pillows, sleeping pads that rolled, and various other "necessities". The only remnants of that shower are the pillows, the pads and the cooler which doesn't close properly and is missing one handle.

The first time we used the equipment was shortly after our marriage. We decided to go camping for Memorial Day weekend and naively thought one could just go find a spot with no real plans and only a general idea of where we wanted to go. We ended up at a horse camp...in the mud....and it snowed on us. We couldn't light a fire because all the wood around us was too damp.  That was then.

For the duration of our marriage our equipment supply grew somewhat here and there. We got a huge tent that I still use and a few more coolers, but we didn't really go camping that often. I think during the time we lived in Reno, we camped maybe five times at the most. It wasn't until I moved back up to Washington alone with the kids that I learned the real 'art' of camping. The key to enjoying a camping trip with kids is being prepared!!! Being Prepared...BEING PREPARED! I can't stress that enough.

As I've said the past two days were full shopping and meal planning (jambalaya, omelets, quesadillas, and raspberry cheesecake are my contributions to the community meals; we tend to eat better while camping than at home). I've been dicing, chopping and mixing food, placing the food in vacuum packed bags or zip-locked containers. I've been packing clothes for six people for 2-3 days with the idea that it might rain; which means extras of everything. We've been gathering our gear from the garage, the attic, and trying to fit everything we'd need to set up 'home away from home' into a mini-van. In the morning I have to pack the cooler, gather the miscellaneous items I remembered we needed, stop to fill up the propane and gas tanks.

"Why do you do this only to return home in 2-3 days, clean and put it all away?" "Sounds like too much work!" These comments I've heard many times. I do it because when we camp, we are together in a unique and intimate way. We can look up and appreciate the universe we are a part of. We can enjoy each other's company more because there is more space in between us. Camping gives us a break from the stresses of daily living. Thoughts of work and housework are not allowed, sitting around a campfire and exploring are the rules of the day.

The van is packed, the kids are sleeping and will rise early with great anticipation. Cheers to the first camping trip of 2012!!


Happy Days to all,

love,


Gina.

Gone Fishin'

"The fishing was good; it was the catching that was bad." –A.K. Best

No, actually, the fishing was bad; the catching was good....no that's not quite right either. Anyway I look at it, I admit to myself and to the world...I do not like fishing with kids.....five of them at least. Today was the annual Pack 64 Fishing Derby. Supposedly the pack chips in to have Mill pond filled with loads of fish so when the derby rolls around each kid is all but guaranteed to catch a fish or two. That was the case last year when Tina's family and mine brought back dozens of fish to gut and clean and...gag down eat.

As afternoon rolled around, I realized we would be short a few fishing poles, and hooks, lines, and sinkers... So I took the kids to Fred Meyers and we bought what we needed before heading to the pond. We were right on schedule to have our poles in the water by 7pm, which was important because the first one to catch a fish won a special trophy.

Little did I realize how little I knew about fishing! I had a box of hooks and bobbers and weights...and some poles; but I felt like a....well....a fish out of water! It's not that this was first time I had ever done this; this was, however, Samuel's fourth year of scouting, but usually my brother-in-law, Mike was at the pond before us and was ready to do everything help us get to the point where we were ready to cast the line. We arrived first this year and I really wanted to have the kids ready to go. So after numerous trips to the Port-o-Potty I held a bobber in one hand and the line in the other with out a clue as to how one went with the other. Luckily, the Ruliens showed up worms and all (you know, those little things called bait that I had forgotten to get).

Mike and my nephew, Donovan, then had the task of preparing poles for ten plus people. I made it a point to watch and learn this time so I wouldn't be so helpless next year. This is how the evening went from that point on: Mike and Donovan set out getting their family's poles ready as I bugged them trying to figure out how to attach the hook and bobber to Benjamin's pole, Donovan ever so graciously showed me how to tie the hook on. I did so, attached the worm and helped cast the line. (I wondered at myself, why does ripping a live wriggly worm in half with my fingernail not bother me? I figured changing thousands of poopy diapers over the years has desensitized me to all things gross) All the while, Samuel begged me to help him, and Hunter, who's line was ready to go from last year, kept needing my help with untangling his line from the prickly bushes that surrounded us. Without the slightest exaggeration, swarms of mosquitoes surrounded our heads like Pig Pen on Charlie Brown...only worse.

Cecelia whined first because I wasn't fast enough getting her pole ready and then because she didn't know what to do with it once it was in the water. I will insert here that Isabelle was more patient than I had ever seen her. She said not a word, but waited quietly for me to get to her. When everyone else was waiting for a bite, I finally got her all set up. Amidst the chaos, several worm-gut covered hooks penetrated my thumbs and did I mention I had quite the groupie of mosquitoes following me everywhere I went? Before everyone was fishing Samuel caught the smallest sunfish you had ever seen and we figured he'd win the prize for smallest fish....certainly by now, people had caught the first fish! About 15 minutes later Isabelle had a bite and I helped her reel in a small slimy catfish! Her excitement caught the attention of one of the organizers who came running in our direction with her camera. "Did I hear someone caught a fish?" We showed her the fish and told her Samuel had caught one earlier. She informed us that Samuel had been the first one to catch a fish then. I was surprised because I thought that since it had taken me so long to help these fishing skills deprived children that they had no hope of making the first catch.

My patience was waning, and I longed for my pajamas. Visions of the kids laughing and having memorable deep conversations while waiting with hopeful hearts for the 'catch of the day', and then taking all they learned from me and bonding with each other over their love for the sport were fading as fast as daylight. I am certain that there is no doubt in any of their minds that my distaste for fishing is as real as the empty hooks that kept getting caught by everything but fish.

My joy from this day came twice from Isabelle. First, when she caught her fish, she was beyond excited until I pulled it from the water and held it close to her. At that point every fiber of her being shuttered with fear. She squealed and screeched like the girly girl she tries so hard to hide from her brothers. Secondly, I couldn't help but hide my laughter when a wormed hook got stuck in her hair as she walked behind her cousin when he attempted to cast his line. I know that sounds cruel, but her reactions would have made one think she was being attacked by the swamp monster and it wasn't as if it hooked her skin! I hate to imagine what she would sound like if she actually were attacked by something! I had to tell her, "Isabelle, only use that voice when, A: a kid snatcher is trying to take you away, or B: you need help because you or someone you are with is in danger of dying (which means blood is gushing everywhere, not just on your cuticle)."

The final tally for the 2012 Fishing Derby was a total of 6 fish caught. That number included both scouts and tags (tag-a-long siblings or friends). I felt good knowing that my kids actually caught one-third of all the fish this year! It appears true as Herbert Hoover stated, "Fishing is a… discipline in the equality of men – for all men are equal before fish." (even men (kids) who lack a solid fishing background) And, I am unashamed to admit that it feels good to know that we won't have to do this again for another 12 months.

P.S. Congratulations to Samuel for catching the first fish (he would have gotten the trophy for smallest also, but they didn't want one person to get more than one trophy :)

Notice how my kids are the ones without  poles?  Those were down by the water with the price tags still on them.

Big brother, Hunter, gives Izzy a helping hand with her slimy, spiky Catfish.

Winners for: Biggest fish, Smallest fish, and First Fish Caught

Happy Fishing everyone!

Gina.

Memorial Day Adventures

If at first you don't succeed, try, try again.....

I looked forward to Memorial Day weekend with a different kind of sweet anticipation this year. At least since the kids and I have moved back to Washington in 2008 we have camped with my sister and brother-in-law, Tina and Mike, their kids and occasionally several other siblings...families included. It was always the much awaited first camping trip of the year, and we would go....rain and all. This year, the weather was beautiful, but my children were with their father and my niece was making her first Holy Communion which took precedence over camping.

So, I planned a weekend of adventures that I intended on embarking upon whether alone or joined by family or friends. The Friday before Memorial Day was the last day of school. The kids left after their program to spend a few days with their dad and his mom, their grandmother. So my first grand adventure took place that night at home. I went to bed at 9 o'clock with a smile on my face, for I knew from this day forth, until school begins in September, I could sleep in if I wanted too!!! To a mother, that is pure joy!

However, Saturday morning I rose with the sun. I planned on hiking to the ghost town, Lester, WA with Emily and a long-time friend Valerie. My backpack was loaded with all I needed for a day of hiking: food, water, sunscreen, and camera (Cub scouts say there are 10 essentials, but those are all I needed for the day. :)

We met at my house and loaded up on gas before heading past Greenwater, WA and north of Mount Rainier. I thought I would stop at a Forest Service information station to get information on the roads and exact directions (Lord knows I have made the mistake NOT to do that before).  When we got there I bought a Forest Pass. I already had the Discover Pass required for state parks but the Forest Pass is required for parking on any Forest Service operated land, yet this does not include the National Park pass required for entry into Mt. Rainier.....whatever happened to "This land is your land, this land is mine"?

Pass in hand I was ready to get a map and directions and get on the road. What?!!! The ranger informed us that there was no way we could access the road to Lester due to the snow. Well, that was alright, I had a plan B...that too, we were told had low snow levels. We were told that we could drive as far as 2 miles within the trail head to Suntop and hike the rest of the way. That sounded alright with us...we planned to hike all day anyway. As we climbed back in the van only a little discouraged, Emily and I (OK, probably mostly me) decided that the forest ranger probably hadn't been up in that area for awhile and didn't really know what the roads were like. Surely the snow was melted enough by now. We'd give it a try.

We approached the gravel forest service road and everything appeared fine. The sun was high and twinkled in and out of the tall trees that were almost like a moving canopy above our heads. Campers were hidden within the firs and cedars and the smell of campfire arose a longing in our hearts to be in their midst. The road wound up and up, like a giant snake. We chased a deer around one corner and rabbits ran for the safety of the woods around another. As we saw two mile marker we felt confident that we were getting close; but whatever excitement each of us harbored gave way to hesitation when we rounded a bend and saw the road completely covered with the icy white stuff.

I parked the van and all of us figured we'd start the hike from here. As we were gathering our stuff, a few bikers, muddied from waste down passed us and said they had to turn around because it was too deep. Well, WE were walking....that would be different, so we thought. We hiked up the steep road a little ways but the snow got deeper and deeper. I swallowed my pride and admitted the ranger knew what she was talking about. Disappointed, but not disheartened, we decided to figure out a Plan C.

Starting off! Full of anticipation.

Plan C involved driving until we saw somewhere that looked interesting. We found ourselves by the entrance to the Tacoma Watershed, but we were met with another dead-end as the gate was closed. But then we saw "The Bridge". There is just something irritable about a bridge to me, especially when it has a beautiful river rushing underneath it and mountain scenery that spreads as far as the eye can see. A short debate delayed our adventure over whether or not we should walk the bridge in spite of the warning signs. We were a good mix of opinions, the three of us. There was me on one end of the spectrum urging us to go, my sister on the other with cautious reservation, and Valerie just ready to go along with whatever decision was made. We went.

 The river was absolutely hypnotizing! We rested for awhile under the bridge and marveled at how the gigantic rock in the water got there, and each of us lost in our own thought welcomed the sun as it warmed our skin.

The day was still young-ish and we weren't entirely done with nature. After exploring the bridge location to our hearts content we headed back into the town of Enumclaw, the van was quiet and I let the moment lead us to our next destination. So far I called all the shots, and that lead to three dead-ends (but some awesome views and a little excitement); I was more than ready for someone else to lead the way.

Emily suggested we head to the Carbon River area where the Rainier to Ruston race was to take place the following weekend. The race begins at the foothills of Mt. Rainier and ends by the Tacoma waterfront. It was a fun race that Emily, Tina and I took part in two years in a row, but were not going to be in this year. It was a great idea. We ended the day enjoying the varying shades of green in the old growth forests that paralleled the Carbon River.

The day was a good lesson in being present in the moment. It was a time to turn off the cell phones, turn up the music in the van and just BE. Our plans didn't turn out as we expected but the day was a total enjoyment. One day, though, the snow will be melted and we will try it again. You can't hide from us Lester! We will be back!!!

Sunny days to all,

Gina.

 (my camera, an old DSLR, just wasn't made for self portraits ;)





PS. If anyone reading this has any tips on arranging photos, I could use the help. They look fine when I am writing the post, but then when I go to publish it....they look all scattered!