Captured: Highway 2

US Highway 2 has been begging for my attention since 2011. It has watched me escape my home base in Seattle to explore every corner of the state. It has watched me ignore it with every road trip. Then the pandemic happened, and we sheltered in place. With nervous steps, we returned to the open road and sorely missed local destinations. As life began returning to normal, I finally visited US Highway 2. As I escaped our cabin to snap photos, I felt ashamed. Indescribable beauty surrounded me. With each snap, I promised to return and give this place the proper attention it deserves.

Be good to each other,

Nathan

Out/Back: North Beach Trail – Deception Pass State Park

When I began telling people I was moving to Seattle in 2011, friends who had visited Washington State began telling me stories about visits to Deception Pass. They shared stories about driving across its famed bridge, absorbing the expanse of Puget Sound, and the awe they felt experiencing this feat of engineering that connects Whidby Island to the rest of Western Washington.  

Over the past thirteen years, I have driven across the bridge countless times, doing nothing more than stealing glances of the vista outside my window. I always did so with a promise to return when the crowds weren’t so large. I wanted to fully appreciate Deception Pass State Park and the bridge that beckons people from around the world.  

On a sunny Saturday in April, Brandon and I finally answered the call. Before we began the drive, we knew that a weekend trip on a beautiful spring day would not free us from the crowds, but we had a plan to escape them.  

Beyond checking “Explore Deception Pass” off my Washington State bucket list, I was thrilled to have Brandon by my side on a hike. In the nearly 10 years that we have been together, we have only hiked together three times. Brandon is athletic, but hitting the trail is rarely at the top of his list. With a promise of a quick and moderately challenging trail away from the mass of people waiting for us, I convinced him to tag along.  

As we drove across the bridge, my suspicions were correct. A cloudless weekend brought out the crowds. As people jockeyed for sparking spots near the bridge, we continued to a parking lot closer to the beginning of the North Beach Trail. Entering the lot, we were exhilarated to find it nearly empty. Unsure if the current state of open spots would last, we quickly parked, changed shoes, threw on backpacks, and began hiking along the water’s edge. For twenty minutes or so, we dipped in and out of the tree line. We would come face to face with gentle crashing waves, and then retreat to the trees. Finally, we rounded a corner and saw what draws most people to this spot in the world.  

Standing on the beach, we stared up at the bridge. Instinctively, I snapped as many photos as possible (bridges are one of my favorite things in this world to photograph). From my vantage point, I could see the persistent flow of cars moving across the bridge. I could also see pedestrians pulling cellphones from their pockets in a feeble attempt to capture an original moment. As I watched them, I began to pity those who will only ever know the bridge. From the beach and the trail around the peninsula, there are countless breathtaking angels to be discovered that force you to fully appreciate the specialness of this place. I wished they would leave the safety of their cars for a while and explore beyond the expected.  

Thankful for the space I was occupying, I stowed my camera away. We returned to the trail. For the next ninety minutes, we inched closer to the bridge with each step. We repeated the process of photos and deep appreciation, before returning to the trail several times. As we hiked underneath the bridge and around the far side of the peninsula, I felt thankful for the moment.  

Winters in the northwest are not easy. Beginning in late October and running through April, the weather is almost consistently gloomy, overcast, and wet. For months, we walk from one indoor space to another, trying to dodge raindrops and avoid getting soaked. The weather keeps me from enjoying the outdoors as fully as I would like. This is why the first clear spring day always feels like relief. It is a savior and freeing simultaneously. As we completed our hike, I found myself thankful for the turning of the seasons and overjoyed to be back on a dusty trail.  

Be good to each other,  

Nathan 

Captured: Deception Pass

I have driven across Deception Pass countless times, always with the promise I would return and try to capture it with my camera. After years of promising, I finally made it happen on warm spring day.

Be good to each other,

Nathan

Overnight: Shi Shi Beach

What This Place Means to Me  

On three occasions, I have made a small pilgrimage to Shi Shi Beach in the remote northwest corner of Washington state. Over the last ten years, it has grown into one of my favorite places in the state. Its sheer beauty alone is enough to steal my heart, but it is the experiences tied to this place that mean much more to me.  

On my first visit, my roommate and I desperately needed an escape from the city. Armed with cameras and the hope we might capture a gorgeous sunset, we headed west. For hours, we snaked our way around the peninsula. Parked, we slogged through a muddy trail. Then we stepped out onto the beach as the sun began meeting the ocean. With ferocity, shutters opened and closed. We did not have time for creative angles. Time solely focused us on capturing the indescribable beauty before us. Distracted, we lost track of time. As the sunlight retreated, we bolted back to my car. Thick mud and a pitch-black forest made for a trail that was twice as complicated. Covered in mud, we triumphantly arrived back at my car.

On my second visit, the Supreme Court granted marriage equality to gay and lesbian couples nationwide. Sitting in a coffee shop in Pioneer Square in downtown Seattle, I penned a heartfelt essay, outing myself to the world. With as much bravery as I could muster, I posted the essay on my website. As the world reacted, a friend of mine and I headed for Shi Shi Beach. Without cell phone reception, I had no way of knowing how the world was reacting to my news. As the two of us sat near a campfire, I decided I did not care. My truth was out there. For a while, that sandy beach was a sanctuary. Driving home the next day, my phone sang with chirps and buzzes. Almost all of them notifications displaying some level of support.

This third visit was no less special. Once again, I needed a retreat from the cacophony that defines a city. And once again, I looked west. With summer beginning a tug-of-war with fall, Shi Shi again provided sanctuary.  

Even Rocks Don’t Last Forever  

From the beach, your eyes grow fixated on the haystack rocks rising from the water and filling the southern part of the horizon. If you are anything like me, you wonder about the lives and stories those rocks hold. Your mind can get lost in wonder. No matter what direction you head, you arrive at the realization these rocks will not last forever. Eventually, time will win this battle and it will claim another victory. There is a metaphor for our own lives in there somewhere.  

Watching the Sun Set Over the Pacific  

No offense to those who find grace and beauty in watching the sun rise over the Atlantic Ocean. For me, there is very little in this world that compares to the magic I feel watching the sun set over the Pacific. The sheer beauty of the vastness before me always leaves me feeling both lucky and insignificant. I cannot speak for you, but holding those two thoughts in my head at the same time feels both powerful and dangerous. Personally, I relish that feeling. It is like a drug, and it keeps me firmly planted on the west coast.  

Counting Stars  

Then the sun loses another battle, and the heavens explode with a thousand points of light. Occupying one of those rare spaces in the world where light pollution does not spoil the night, I count stars. From there, my mind chases the expanse of the Milky Way. There I begin a conversation about the solar system, galaxies, universes, and who might be staring back at me, wondering the same thing. This feeling of vastness and insignificance trumps the Pacific Ocean, but just barely.  

Sleeping Outside  

With the weight of the expanse of space on my mind, I nestle into my sleeping bag. My inability to sleep comfortably outside has spoiled these outings in the past. As badly as I want to sleep, my mind and the surrounding environment make it damn near impossible. On this night, I drift off to sleep easily, but wake and fall back to sleep throughout the night. At first, it was frustrating, but then I accepted it. The day was too special to be spoiled by something so trivial.   

Be good to each other,  

Nathan  

Captured (Washington Parks): Battle Ground Lake State Park

Sure, it is called “The Evergreen State,” but Washington is much more than Douglas Firs and sweeping mountain vistas. It is varied in its beauty. No setting proves this point more profoundly than Washington’s parks. In this series, we will be showcasing Washington state via its protected and shared spaces. East or West, North or South, I hope you will agree that this place is special.

Be good to each other,

Nathan

Out/Back: Tieton River Nature Trail

As summer gives way to fall, I look east of the Cascades for hiking trails. With everything west of the mountains soaked in rain, my mind wanders toward drier stretches of trail. Given the season, this often means hiking in colder than usual temperatures, navigating mountain passes, and trail conditions.  

For this outing, I turned my attention to the Tieton River Nature Trail outside of Yakima, Washington. Eastern Washington is rolling hills and treeless stretches. Western Washington is lush green forests. For me, I always find this change of scenery inspiring. It also serves as an opportunity to test my trail knowledge in new and exciting ways.  

Given that the trail sits next to a river in a canyon, the Tieton River Nature Trail feels like an oasis with trees lining both sides of the bank. On the weekend I visited in late November, the trail spent much of the day covered in shadows. Thanks to an early season of snow and rain, ice covered much of the trail. At first, I did not give this much thought. Astounded by the beauty of the setting, I was blind to the scale of the challenge before me.

A mile and a half into the trail, the elevation picks up. On the last weekend in November, this meant the slightest change in the slope turned the trail into a slide. Taking the smallest of steps, I did my best to navigate the tricky terrain. Before long, this became an impossible feat. Rubber soled hiking shoes without the use of micro-spikes meant I slipped and slid more times than I count. At the two-mile mark, I threw in the towel and began making my way back to the trailhead. My body could not take any more abuse. 

I always feel defeated when I cannot finish a hike and this time was no different. Despite the beauty of the drive from Seattle to Yakima via Snoqualmie Pass, driving two and half hours to not accomplish something is frustrating. It is especially frustrating knowing that I had the proper tools to hike this trail in any condition. I just was not prepared. There is a powerful lesson to be learned from this.  

I may feel defeated, but I am not giving up. I will return to this trail and finish what I started. Next time, I am hoping to reach higher elevations, hoping to find some much-needed solitude while basking in the glory of the Yakima valley laid out before me.  

Be good to each other,  

Nathan 

Out/Back: Crystal and Sheep Lake via the Pacific Crest Trail, Mount Rainier National Park

At 7:30 AM on a random Saturday in August, I parked my car in the overflow parking lot across the street from the Pacific Crest Trail inside of Mt. Rainier National Park. Fog still covered most of the trail as I slid on my pack, locked my car, and began mentally preparing myself for the journey before me. Based on reports, I knew I would spend the first two hours of my morning gradually climbing toward the gap separating Crystal and Sheep Lake. I also knew to expect an explosion of late summer wildflowers and sweeping vistas once I reached higher elevations.  

I spent two-thirds of this hike on the Pacific Crest Trail. Behind and in front of me were weary hikers. Some were on thru-hikes that began months ago at the southern terminus of the PCT. Others were hopscotching around, sewing together their own adventure. Behind and in front of me were weary hikers, accomplishing a dream that once upon a time was an all-consuming thought in my life. As we hiked on a ridgeline overlooking an expansive valley filled with evergreen trees before turning toward Crystal Lake, jealousy and a little sadness came over me. At some future point, I will heal and get over this magical stretch of trail.  

Near the one-hour mark, I arrived at Crystal Lake to find overnight campers rustling awake and emerging from their nylon homes. Fog was bobbling away from the lake to higher ground. I pulled out my camera, snapped some photos, and experienced that feeling all of us hikers chase; a feeling of being the luckiest person in the world.  

From there, I continued the climb up toward the Sourdough Gap. Here, the elevation steepens. Hikers must earn the prize waiting on the other side. As I climbed, I stopped to rest, but I also stopped to fully appreciate the intoxicating valley and vista stretching before me. Once again, a feeling of sheer luck.  

Standing on the gap, the trail falls into a valley. Right in front of me were three young women. All were hiking the Pacific Crest Trail. They were discussing politics and I could not help but listen to their conversation. My aim was not to judge their political stance, but to taste some conversations that could have been mine had my PCT family had been granted an opportunity to form fully.  

Not long after crossing the gap, the trail diverges. The Pacific Crest Trail stretches into the valley. I headed for another gap before hiking down to Sheep Lake. I silently wished my fellow hikers the best of luck. They did not know it then and they will never discover the truth, but for a moment, I lived through them and their journey.  

I continued to the second gap. Cresting the ridge, I saw my prize. Before me, there was a beautiful lake surrounded by trees and mountains. If there is a grand design to the universe, placing this lake in this valley in this setting almost serves as proof.  

Descending for what seemed like forever, I eventually found myself sitting lakeside. My pack slid off my back, the cool air kissed the sweat that had accumulated, and a chill ran up my spine. I sought refuge in a hoodie and a few snacks to restore my energy.  

As I breathed in this moment, sunshine fully engulfed the valley and burned away any remaining fog. As it did, Mt. Rainier revealed itself to me. At that moment, it felt so close, like I could reach out and grab a snowball from its white peak. Staring at a mountain that hypnotizes so many, I thought, This is why you move here! This is why you put up with nine months of rain, gray clouds, and dreariness that seems without end.  

Snapping photos and drinking the entire scene in, I knew I could not linger. I wanted to stay forever, but the call of responsibilities and the doldrums of life were demanding me home. As I reversed course, everything previously experienced was now awash with sunlight. It felt like an entirely different place. From Sourdough Gap, the reverse hike is all downhill. For the next two hours, I passed countless hikers on a journey of their own. Reaching a parking lot brimming with cars and people, the mass of humanity blew me away. Young and old, male and female, shades of all kinds, had chosen the same spot as me. I wished them well, tossed my pack into the trunk of my car, and drove back toward reality.  

Be good to each other,  

Nathan  

Captured: Ocean Shores

Visiting the Washington coast in early Spring, means battling the elements to find a good shot. On this particular weekend, it was cold, gray, windy, and raining. Still, there was beauty to be found. There was also another reminder that we live in a beautiful place.

Be good to each other,

Nathan

Box Hikes: Frenchman Coulee Trail

Beaches, forests, mountains, and desert trails... There is always something new to explore in Washington state. In this episode of Box Hikes, we escape Seattle for a little hike near the Gorge and Columbia River.

Be good to each other,

Nathan

Captured (Washington Parks): Ginkgo Petrified Forest State Park

Sure, it is called “The Evergreen State,” but Washington is much more than Douglas Firs and sweeping mountain vistas. It is varied in its beauty. No setting proves this point more profoundly than Washington’s parks. In this series, we will be showcasing Washington state via its protected and shared spaces. East or West, North or South, I hope you will agree that this place is special.

Be good to each other,

Nathan

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