The Great Yellow Bellied, Sharp Beaked, Flat-Footed North American Snipe
Waking to the sound of nothing - nothing but the trickling of water, the call of a morning Jay, and the snap of a twig - is one of life’s sweetest, simplest pleasures. No phone, no internet, no traffic.
As I woke in the few minutes before the sun crept over the not-so-distant Mountain peaks, I saw my breath rise symbiotically with the fog above Lake George, a high alpine lake so crystal clear and smooth it looked as though it could be shattered at the slightest touch. After hiking up to the lake in Mount Rainier Park the previous day and finding a lean-to to set up camp for the night, my Dad, brother, and I were planning to hike further up to Gobbler’s Knob to reach an even better view of the Mountain that morning. As the first one to stir, I decided to explore around the lake until the others rose. While I so enjoy their company, there is no better time of day to me than solitary contemplation in the early morning hours.
So I headed out in the crisp June air on my own, my shoes crunching in the snow patches that lay intermittently through the hollow. I began on the path leading towards Gobblers Knob, quickly veering off the path to the left at the sight of a stream coming downhill - I wanted to find the source. After following the stream for a few hundred feet through the woods, I could see it. I crossed over two fallen logs to find a waterfall tucked away, so beautiful and serene that you could feel it’s movement in your soul.
After soaking in the Falls for what seemed like only a moment, I couldn’t wait to share its spender with my Dad and Brother. I arrived back at the campsite to find them waking, and we headed back to the spot from which I had just come. It was even more beautiful the second time around. The morning sunlight peeped through the tree branches and pine to make the water shimmer as it fell from one boulder to the next, like the many instruments of a symphony flowing together to form a masterpiece. Or perhaps it was experiencing such natural beauty with loved ones that made a memory I will cherish until I close my eyes for good.
After hiking back to the site, having breakfast, and packing up, we decided we did not have time to hike up to Gobblers Knob. We also found that our toilet paper supply had been frayed, oddly enough, all around the edges, with bits of it strone about. My Dad suspects it was the very rare yellow-bellied, sharp-beaked, flat-footed North American Snipe who came to visit during the night. Apparently they love to eat TP, and this one hit the jackpot.
We enjoyed the views of Rainier, pleasant sunny weather, and conversation on the 4-mile hike down. After having lunch, we drove to Paradise Visitor’s Center for a final spectacular view of the mountain and the place from which most climbers depart, my Dad having been amongst them several times in the past. The entire peak was visible under an incredible snow cloud that hung low over the top. The ranger we spoke to said it is rare to have good visibility of Rainier, and almost unheard of to view it in its entirety - we definitely were blessed to be there on such an afternoon!
Now off to Olympic National Park! We then drove a couple of hours to reach the Northwestern-most national park (with the exception of Alaska) in the nation and spend the night at a campsite in the Olympic National Forest. It became greener and greener, if possible, the farther North we drove. This was beginning to feel more like the rain forest we would be seeing the next day, located in the western side of the park (Hoh Rainforest and the Hall of Moss). Reed fired up the propane lighter and made some delicious Fettuccine Alfredo for dinner at our campsite. Good food, good company, and lights out!
