Meg Noble Peterson

Author of Madam, Have You Ever Really Been Happy? An Intimate Journey through Africa and Asia

Category: Washington State

MT. BAKER, THE DEFINING JEWEL OF THE CASCADES

P1100548No matter how many times I return to this majestic peak, I find subtle nuances I had overlooked before. Walking around our campsites, deep in the woods, I found hidden trails, shady alcoves blanketed in pine needles, varied ground cover, and ferns—some delicate, some enormous, each with its individual, intricate pattern. At night I would sit on the outskirts and watch the waning sun cast its brilliance through the branches, covering everything in a mystical glow. No photo can possibly substitute for nature’s real colors, but I tried.

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The North Cascades are a wilderness defined by giant fir trees and native woody cousins whose lateral branches slope downwards, pulled by masses of bright green moss. Sometimes the burden is round, sometimes tubular, but always magical to me as I wander through the untouched forest. To be sure, some of the larger blow-downs are sliced in half by volunteer repair groups to let the hikers by, but most of the woods are left in a natural state.

My camp partner as usual was Jon Pollack, whom I met trekking on the Annapurna Circuit in Nepal in 1999. Our usual campsite in the Cascades over the years has been Silver Fir, which we visited in 2015 and 2013, but this year we chose one about 30 minutes off the beaten track deep in the wilderness, not far from Cascade Pass—Mineral Creek Campground—recommended by Steve Austin, the most charming, helpful camp host we’ve encountered. The fact that I offered my kingdom for a campsite might have helped. He was curious as to what my kingdom might comprise!

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Near the campsite was a roaring river, one of several we would encounter over the next ten days.

P1100377And hovering above us was the ever-present Mt. Shuksun.  Here it is as seen from the south side.

Bears are a big topic in the Cascades. Here I am conversing with one at the North Cascades Visitors Center on our way to Washington Pass.

And, of course, we were surrounded by views on every side. Too bad I don’t know how to upload the video I took of the entire panorama. Still cameras just can’t do the job, although I tried!

The next ten days were filled with hikes, swimming in Baker Lake, and relaxing at our new campsite, Panorama Point. We were incredibly lucky to find the last unreserved site and, we think, the largest and the most beautiful. From now on we’re going to reserve a long way ahead of time! Fishing was a big sport at the lake, but it did nothing to disturb the peaceful area surrounding our favorite swimming hole.

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Here are a few slide shows of our hikes. Pictures tell the story far better than my attempts to describe the Northwest wilderness—from old growth to temperate rain forest—mountain ridges too numerous to name, and the ever-present mountain streams and waterfalls, forded by bridges of varying quality.

Through Washington Pass to Diablo Lake trailhead, down to Ross Dam and Ross Lake.

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Our campsite was on the unpaved road not far from Cascade Pass, which we had climbed a few years ago. This time we only went to the pass after getting a late start. It wasn’t difficult for me to forego going up and over Sahale Arm.

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Our most strenuous hike was to Park Butte, reached by driving nine miles over an unpaved road. The trail was varied—winding switchbacks with lumber-reinforced banks (a bit too much exposure for me), trenches of white rocks that looked like abandoned river beds, steep rocky sections reminiscent of the White Mountains, and stretches of scree, making downhills slippery and challenging. And who could forget the variety of rustic bridges along the way? We reached a fire tower with panoramic views, but getting there really freaked me out, since we had to scale sheer rock to reach the steps. I think I’ve had it with fire towers!

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One final hurrah was the Anderson Butte trail.

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A farewell gift from the master fire builder….P1100695

 

HEAR YE! HEAR YE! ANNOUNCEMENT TO MY SUBSCRIBERS

To all my blog subscribers, let me correct an unfortunate oversight. Those of you who have received my blog by email subscription since last May have not gotten any of my slideshows. This is because emails cannot take this much information. We are working to correct this so that you can click through to the blog post and enjoy the slideshows.

Here are my linked blog posts from October going back to May where you can see the slideshows! I’m so sorry for this inconvenience, but glad it was discovered!

A glorious day in Upper Melamchi  with slideshow of our trip to the Yolmo

Thirty days hath September and every one a jewel  with a slideshow of the Soup Box Derby in Langley

I hadn’t let go of summer, yet, when the autumn fog began rolling in with a slideshow of our hike to Mt. Rainier

There is a harmony in autumn and a luster in its sky with a slideshow of our hike around Mt. Baker

Solstice is over and summer is in full swing with a slideshow of glorious Whidbey solstice sunsets

Crashing on the pavement big-time in Tacoma! with a slideshow of my summer hikes at Steamboat Rock

 

CRASHING ON THE PAVEMENT IN TACOMA….BIG TIME!

I’m an expert crasher. I try to average at least one major dive a year. Seems pretty frivolous to mention after all of the important news from Nepal. But this is not like an earthquake. It’s preventable. Just ask my children, who feel that if I’m trying to kill myself, this is an unceremonious way to die and needs serious addressing. So I hasten to remind them that I have never, repeat never, fallen on a trek or a mountain (except once on the top of Mt. Washington, where I understandably tripped over my new, unfamiliar hiking poles) or even on the sidewalks of Asian countries like Myanmar, where one misstep can land you in an open sewer with a broken leg. I specialize in monasteries, trains of questionable quality, and city streets where the pavement is supposed to be smooth. And where you don’t expect potholes or crooked pavement. If only my recent mishap had occurred in New York City I could have sued for a million dollars and been on easy street. But, alas, I had to pick Tacoma, Washington, unfamiliar territory for my Guardian Angel, who was probably snoozing, anyway, while my own thoughts were on the hike I was about to take with my buddy, Jon Pollack, of Annapurna fame. And therein lies the rub.

I’m always amazed at how few Good Samaritans there are at such times. There I was, having smacked my head on the pavement and scraped myself to a fare-thee-well from top to bottom, and in the process of wiping the blood from my clothes, when a man walked by, cigarette dangling from his mouth. “Are you OK?” he asked, desultorily.

“Oh, sure,” I replied. “I sit on the ground every Friday and bleed. It’s a religious ritual.”

“Hrrumpff,” and off he went leaving me to pick myself up and move my car to the garage where Jon and I continued packing. Forty Band Aids later we took off, and in seven hours were in beautiful Columbia River territory setting up camp for a three day hike in the woods.

Three weeks later, the hiking having been superb and my purple shiner almost gone, I started to have numbness in my left hand. When it moved to the face and my speech started slurring I got scared. Thus began a series of tests…CAT scan, MRI, and MRA. It was an education for me, and not one I care to repeat. Seems I sustained a small subdural hematoma which was attempting to re-absorb into my head, while poking into my right brain and causing me to babble. That’s all you need to know, except that all is well and I promise never to fall, again. It just ain’t worth it!

Here is the beginning of my summer hikes.

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TECHNOLOGY! TECHNOLOGY! TECHNOLOGY!

How many people over 65 (and that includes me) are roaming around the halls of mental asylums, clicking on every doorknob and cutting and pasting their inmates as they search for old photographs and lost documents, repeating, hysterically, pdf. mpf, hypertext,.doc.? I have come up with a solution: a new organization,Technology Anonymous for Technotards (TAT). It may not sound politically correct, but it will save your sanity. Who would like to join me? It meets every Wednesday at 6 PM at the Langley Marina on Puget Sound. Come dressed in your diving gear. It will be a long, dark night, but it sure beats Bedlam.

All of which is to announce that at long last I have had my website upgraded with new photos, incredible insights (just ask my children if you don’t believe it), and a clickable map of my travels that exhausts even me. It will be launched by the middle of May (cross your fingers), so watch for it! If my erstwhile webmaster, Matt McDowell (www.screenthumb.com), survives the ordeal, he has very kindly agreed to be the premier advisor to TAT. That’s the first split infinitive I’ve used in years, but Matt deserves it!

As a heralding of spring I want to share this beautiful African lily, the rare yellow clivia, which my son, Tom, brought me a few weeks ago when he moved to Langley. And there is another orange one just getting ready to bloom. Doesn’t it make you want to dance? P1070339 On the first day of March, Jon Pollack and I celebrated the beginning of the hiking season with a day trip to Park Forest near Eatonville. We were accompanied by old friends, the prolific historical writer, Dennis Larsen, and his wife, Pat Ziobron. Mt. Rainier was overpowering, with views all along the trail. I was unable to get a photo on the winding road back, but I did catch some beautiful shots at the marina in Tacoma near where Jon lives.

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The closer you get the more beautiful it is!

P1070291 Life continues in Langley, with enthusiastic Art Walks, excellent theater–a superb production of Other Desert Cities by Jon Robin Baitz–and an original musical, Pasture-ized, by Whidbey’s own Ken Merrell and Eileen Soskin, which could well start, immediately, Off-Broadway. And, of course, volunteering in the garden is in full sway as the fresh produce has returned in abundance, thanks to the tireless work of the garden experts  and their apprentices. I haven’t forgotten about Yolmo/Helambu. Just had a little detour, but it’s on its way….

MY LIFE IS A JIGSAW PUZZLE. I’M PUTTING IT BACK TOGETHER, PIECE BY PIECE!

Did you ever feel splintered? Fragmented? With a little “How did this ever happen to a nice girl/boy like me?” thrown in? And I mean this turmoil occurs while you’re completely sober and mentally as clear-headed as if you were, once again, that beautiful 35-year-old, who managed a large house, five children and a heavy travel/teaching/writing schedule…to say nothing of all the cooking and cleaning and yard work that provided the down side to an otherwise very exciting life? (You may have guessed that 35 is the age at which I choose to float through eternity).

The fact that I have left you, my friends, dangling, picture-wise, about my trip to Bhutan last November-December, and my subsequent adventures in Nepal and India, can only attest to the confusing and rapid sequence of events that followed my decision to sell my house in Maplewood, NJ, divest myself of most worldly goods (except those love letters…give me a break…and curly-edged photographs that go in the stand- alone albums), drive my ailing Toyota cross country with son, Tom, who is still recovering, and plunk myself in the first apartment I’ve occupied in 62 years. Thank God for that view of Mt. Baker and Puget Sound! And the reasonable rent.

Yes, it so happened, I did find that there was life after Broadway and the Plainfield Symphony, and more nice people on Whidbey Island than even on the #1 train to Lincoln Center, but I was still a fish out of water. Then, as if to compound my ruminations/ wheel-spinning, about what I should or even want do next, I found myself facing up to where I am right now: the grateful recipient of a new hip, brought on by whatever happens when you beat your body up and down the mountains for 80 years. I dived into this experience with gusto, clearing the decks of all previous summer plans, and finding an adorable doctor at Swedish Hospital in Seattle, who, in 45 minutes, sawed off my leg, drilled a hole in my pelvis and hammered and screwed in a miraculous device which leaves me half-bionic, and sent me home the next day with no precautions (he knew it wouldn’t do any good, anyway). This is high-tech carpentry if I ever saw it, with a medical degree thrown in. And for those who may have hip or joint pain, it’s called a minimally-invasive anterior hip replacement. You can find a dandy video of the operation on YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1jb2nq_jRwI Just don’t view it before dinner.

This all occurred less than three weeks ago and I am now walking around (carefully!), unaided, and looking forward to a return to the Himalayas in November. When I asked Dr. Pritchett if I could go, he answered, “Why not?”

So why am I disjointed (not meant as a pun)? I have children who have helped every step of the way, especially Cary, my eldest, who has been juggling six projects as she hovered over me like Nurse Nightingale, figuring pain dosages and exercises, and sleeping in my flat to make sure I didn’t wander onto the balcony and howl at the moon at midnight. And almost too many friends, who have brought food and overwhelmed me with kindness to the point where I was screaming for solitude. You know the feeling. And now I’m alone with my thoughts. God help me! No more pain medicine, not much pain, and all the time in the world to agonize.

Partial reason for this blood-letting: A new awakening. I have never felt so vulnerable. So at the mercy of “the kindness of others…not strangers.” Well, here’s a reliable fact of life for you, Meg. Things go wrong. But you’ve been pretty lucky in the past. You think you’re the only one who will live forever? Really? Good luck!

You’ll be glad to know that I’m now working on acceptance…an old Buddhist teaching, easier said than done. My, we do fight reality, don’t we?

I just read a book given to me by a friend in Seattle, Maria Semple’s Where’d You Go, Bernadette. It brought a smile to my face and lifted my spirits to know that I can find simpatico crazies here in the Northwest if I just put the pieces of the puzzle back together and open up a new space, free of the past and eager for the possibilities of the future.

© 2017 Meg Noble Peterson & Site by Matt McDowell