A Good Cry In My Tent

Time for a 'deep thoughts' post. I have to tell myself it's OK if I'm not funny, because being funny and deep at the same time is a challenge for me. And I have to remind myself it's OK if nobody likes my deep thoughts, or thinks I'm funny for that matter. (Sheesh, this blogging thing can really make a person feel vulnerable ;) 


I want to talk a little about an experience I had while camping...I would call it an "ah-ha" moment,  if Oprah didn't annoy me so much.  My sister gave me a book for my birthday called "One Thousand Gifts", and I brought it with me on our trip to read.  It's funny that I should mention Oprah getting on my nerves, because when my sister was explaining the book to me she said, "It's about making a list of the things your thankful for...but not like Oprah".  And even though I'm not a fan of Oprah's, I was a little put off that my sister would imply that just because Oprah is a non-Christain, her ideas about thankfulness are wrong.  But that's because I'm really in a defensive state when it comes to Christians, even though I would still consider myself one.  And being defensive is ugly, and I really don't want to be.  However, I just don't know how I fit into Christianity anymore.  My beliefs have changed, and they are not consistent with what most Christians believe.  It makes me feel separated, and well...defensive.  Still, I feel convicted when I read things like this:


How can there be oneness and unity when there are countless multitudes of Christian people disagreeing on many points of doctrine and belief, and considering one another’s beliefs and practices as error, superstition, heresy and dangerous perversions of the truth, while at the same time all the different groups claim the authority of Christ and his apostles in support of their own views?  If the basis of our unity is purity of doctrine and practice, then it is impossible.  But the basis of our unity is a Person, the Lord Jesus Christ.  It is not our understanding of his teaching and belief in his atoning death which unites us (for our apprehension of truth is so diverse), but our longing to worship and obey him according to the light which we have.  He is the ground of our oneness.  If only we would accept the fact that we all are wrong in some respects, and that lack of love and oneness lies at the bottom of our varying interpretations of the truth, surely we would be willing to go back to our first love and acknowledge our oneness.


And I believe this, and I want to live this out...then I remember that the woman who wrote it (Hannah Hurnard, author of "Hinds Feet on High Places") was completely ostracized by Christians for having some of the same change of beliefs that I do.  (I saw one website where she was called a witch...doesn't really help with my defensive problem)  Nevertheless, here I am reading a Christian book...but I'll confess, I had my guard up.  Except I found the book beautiful, and it touched me deeply.   Here is a quote: (with my editing)


Is this eucharisteo (thanksgiving) the way to that elusive fullest life, the one that lives in the moment?  What my sister urges when I get angsty and knotted about tomorrow, when I sorrow for what is gone, her words always tugging me to stay right here--"Wherever you are, be all there."  I have lived the runner, panting ahead in worry, pounding back in regrets, terrified to live in the present, because here-time asks me to do the hardest of all: just open wide and receive. "Wherever you are, be all there" is only possible in the posture of eucharisteo.  I want to slow down and taste life, give thanks, and see God.


I know 'living in the moment' is such a buzz phrase right now, but I don't care.  It's how I want to live, and it has nothing to do with being trendy.  (And maybe that's all my sister meant when she dissed Oprah...I know I dissed Oprah too, that's why it's supposed to be funny.  I told you I'm bad at being serious and funny at the same time)


So, to explain my "experience" I mentioned at the start: While we were camping, my youngest had one of her overly-stimulated, overly-tired, overly-emotional meltdown moments.  And when she gets like that, I really just want to give her a long, hard shake.  (Is there such a thing as "shaken 10 year old syndrome"?  Not funny either?  Sorry, I'll stop.)  But I was doing my motherly duty...calming her down, helping her put on her lotion,  laying down next to her in the tent and stroking her hair so she could fall asleep. (She has eczema, and rolling around in the sand all day is just the thing for it...oops, there I go again.  Does sarcasm count?) And I could hear everyone at the other campsite (where the fire was) just laughing and having a great time...and I resented it.  I resented having to do my motherly 'duty', and I couldn't wait until she was asleep so I could get out of there and where the fun was. 


It's hard to explain what happened next, but I'm going to try.  God seemed to say, "Why?". (In my heart and mind--I know there's no proving it was God.  I'm worried it sounds arrogant to say I heard from God, but that's probably just my defensiveness at work)  So, God asked me why I wanted so badly to be over there, instead of being right here.  And it just clicked, how much I've missed and lost and haven't enjoyed because I wanted something other than what I had. Please understand, even though my whole life I've struggled with shame about being 'ungrateful', I wasn't experiencing shame at this moment. Tremendous regret and sadness, yes;  but also mixed with wondrous joy and hope...because it felt like I was changing.  My resentment was gone, totally gone, and in it's place was happiness--and it was real, not me gritting my teeth and saying "yes, I understand I'm supposed to be grateful", but a complete appreciation for how awesome it was to sit in that tent and stroke my beautiful, amazing, flaw filled daughter's hair.  And also an even bigger appreciation and love for God, who gave me the eyes to see it.  One more quote (again, with some editing) from today's reading. (I'm on chapter 9)


Let God blow His wind, His trials, oxygen for joy's fire. Leave the hand open and be. Be at peace.  Fullness of joy is discovered only in the emptying of will.  And I can empty.  I can empty because counting His graces has awakened me to how He cherishes me, holds me, passionately values me.  I can empty because I am full of His love.  I can trust.  I can let go.  Dying to self demands that I might gratefully and humbly receive the better, the only things that a good God gives.  This eucharisteo is no game of Pollyanna but the hard edge of blade.   This is the way the self dies, falls into the arms of Love.  This is why the fight for joy is always so hard.  I accept the gift of now as it is--accept God--for I can't be receptive to God unless I receive what He gives.


Amen, let it be so, in me and in all.

Confessions of a Naughty Boy Scout

What can I say about living in Washington state?  For everyone who lives here and is reading this I don't have to say anything. We know exactly what we hate about living here and we like to complain about it a lot. But to my Russian readers (I actually have gotten some hits from Russia--isn't that weird?) I will explain that we get a lot of rain. But going any further to emphasize how dire our lack of sunshine situation is, to someone who lives in Russia, well...the fact you live in Russia really takes all the fun out of it.  Granted, I don't really have a clue what it's like to live in Russia, but my guess is it's much more difficult than living in Washington state.  But if someone from Russia could let me know if I'm wrong, I'd appreciate being set straight.  (Then I'd actually know I have a fan in Russia!)


There is a little secret we have here though...a magical place called "Eastern Washington". You can actually get a sunburn over there!  So, in our quest for vitamin D and a chance at skin cancer, we load up our tents and swimsuits and make the five hour trek over the mountains every summer...and this is the setting for my next two hikes.   The main hike and the one the campground is named after I'll save for next time. The hike I'm describing here is one I've wanted to do for the past two years, but you have to take a short drive to get there. This has been a hard sell, because usually the weather is always so blessedly hot it's pretty near impossible to get anyone out of the water long enough to even think about leaving the campground.  But because this year was much milder, I was able to talk a whole group into venturing out to do Northrup Canyon.

Everyone was excited looking at the little pamphlet that explained that we should look out for snakes (Danger!..awesome) and an old homestead we would come across. (History!...not as awesome as snakes, but still awesome)

 

The one thing the pamphlet failed to mention, because it was definitely NOT awesome, was the mosquitoes.  I'm not talking a few mosquitoes--everyone knows there's always some mosquitoes...I'm talking ravenous swarms of flesh puncturing beasts that have been lying in wait for days for anything with blood to walk through.

(see all the red bumps?)

And this is why I love my husband, because he is a boy scout...and boy scouts pack backpacks for any and every hike with things like extra water, jackets, AND bug repellent!  So as we were getting sniped from all sides, Ken pulls out the magic elixir and saves the day. Now, when I say "we", I mean just the two of us.(we were behind because this is a group of dutch amazons and my legs are 4 inches shorter than everyone else's...plus I'm in lousy shape, so Ken was compassionately walking slow)

As Ken is hosing me down with deet, he is mischievously watching everyone ahead of us swat themselves uncontrollably and confesses, "I was only thinking of self preservation when I stuck this in my pack".  And this is why I love my husband even more, because he's a naughty boy scout.  Of course, everyone eventually discovered our secret and came clamoring after the spray, praising Ken for looking out for every one's well being...but I knew better.   Thankfully there was enough for all and we made it out of there with a few ounces of blood left.  Next post I'll describe my second near death experience, on Steamboat Rock.

The Non-Torture Trail

I really didn't think I would blog about this hike, because frankly, it was pretty uneventful. And well, I want to keep my followers entertained...I have 7 now!!! Oh, the pressures of celebrity! (yes, I'm poking fun at myself, in case anyone thinks I actually think that's impressive) I've even had a couple 'hits' from Indonesia, and 24 from Russia believe it or not...isn't that weird? I'd love to know how they even came across it with all the billions of blogs floating around in cyberspace. But more importantly...do they like it? Do they come back to it because they think I'm funny? Maybe they think I'm inspiring! And before you know it, I actually do become delusional and think any of this actually matters. 

Therefore, I decided to go ahead and blah, blah, blah about this hike once I reminded myself that 1) your not getting paid to do this,  2) your doing this simply because you enjoy writing...especially when nobody is grading it and you can use all the dot-dot-dot's and parentheses you want, and 3) the whole world over, you still only get a couple hits a week, and those are probably just nuts looking for porn. (Not 50 days of sex?  BORING!)  And so, my non-titillating hike of this month is Sugarloaf Mountain. (Ok, all of a sudden 'sugarloaf' sounds dirty to me. I could insert any number of naughty jokes here...ok, ignore the word 'insert' before this gets any worse ;)  

Anyway, mind out of the gutter, this is a hike I was invited to go on with a whole family:  Melissa, her husband Rick, two kids, sister, and Rich, who is "framily". (New word. Honest, look it up.) I decided this was a hike to bring my daughter, Summer, along as well. If anyone has read "The Torture Trail", you'll know why I think long and hard before taking my youngest hiking with me. Summer can bring on the drama in a hurry; but most of the time she's great, so I thought I'd better give her another chance. And because somebody else was in charge of navigation, I figured our chances of getting lost were reduced significantly. (Though Rick did think we were lost at one point and complained that the map was confusing. A small vindication.) Plus, a camera was involved, and like her mother, Summer thinks a photo shoot increases the fun factor of any event considerably. 

When we got to the top, I realized the view would have been worth some drama, had there been any. Though, come to think of it, there was a little, but not from Summer. Melissa admitted she was wearing long johns and got reamed from the guys because it's July. But she was all smiles at the top when the wind was kicking up and the sun was going down and she was all cozy and we were all quivering like a bunch of chihuahuas after a fireworks show. 

But my shivering Summer, she endured it drama free--and she even came up with hiking lesson #6:  "If bringing hard boiled eggs as a snack, be sure to only eat one, no matter how good they taste."  It was a good thing this was not an overnight hike, because that was a lesson hard earned enough as it was, even without having to get up and dig a bunch of holes. And Summer up to this point had not even peed in the woods...but on the way down she swallowed her pride and snuck off trail to take a piddle instead of complain all the way down how bad she had to go. I will consider that serious progress. :)

Loopsadaisy!

Passing the point of no return.  That's what happened on this 3 mile turned 9 mile hike.  Poor Jewell--she thought she was going to get home in time to work in the yard. (At this time of year, whenever there is actually sun outside, that's all us Northwester's can think to do.  We know if we pass up a lawn mowing day for fun, we may have a jungle on our hands when the next chance rolls around. It's sad, really)  But I talked her into doing something quick and local; a beautiful drive up Chuckanut and just a stroll to Lost Lake, turn around come back, be home before 2:30. 


But there's something about turning around and going back the way I just came that really rubs me the wrong way.  So after we sat in the sun and ate our snack on Lost Lake (literally on the lake...we had to crawl out on a log to be in the sun, and like I just said, if the sun is out around here, you do whatever it takes to be in it) and it was time to either turn around and go back OR keep going and do the whole loop...we thought, let's just go a little farther.  Maybe there will be a spot where we can cut across and shorten the loop. (From the map, it looked like it would be so easy.  Unfortunately, this map didn't show the sheer wall of rock that ran along the entire length of the loop...that would be the RIDGE making it the "Chuckanut Ridge Trail". Seems like maybe I should have figured that out earlier.)



So we went a little bit farther...and a little bit farther...and then we realized we were 'all in'.  We kept looking at the map and saying "well, if we are here, then it shouldn't be too far to get there"...not realizing how NOT to scale this map was.  And there was no signs with any sort of mileage on them, so we just kept going.  And even though I'll admit that this trail kicked by butt, it also made me remember why I love hiking so much.  Nature is so beautiful, and there's that excitement to see what's just around the corner.


When we came to the first waterfall, I gasped. (scared Jewell to death...she was certain a bear was going to be charging toward us) Wouldn't you know, this is when my camera battery died.  I SO wanted a picture, and even considered coming back later when my camera was working.  (that was before my butt was completely kicked...I will have to be in much better shape before I feel up to tackling this hike again) So I cheated and got a picture online instead, which I don't think really does it justice.

  Then we came to our second waterfall, which was possibly even more amazing then the first. (Another online picture..."Mossy Falls" is what it's called.  Creative name, right? ;)

But my favorite moment, and the part that made my day was when an owl swooped down in front of us.  Of course I've seen owls at the zoo before, so it doesn't seem like seeing one in it's own environment should be that big a deal.  But it was a big deal, and even more-- it was magical. (looking up a picture of an owl online is definitely not going to capture that, so I won't bother ;) 

I also wanted to mention an intriguing couple we passed going the opposite direction and got to chatting with.  He was on the board of directors (or something like that) for a National trail I had never heard of..."The Pacific Northwest Trail".  So far it runs all the way from the Olympic Peninsula to the middle of Montana, with plans to connect it with other trails to eventually make a coast to coast through trail.  We just happened to be on a part of it when we ran into them.  Here is a link for anyone wanting to know more:  http://www.pnt.org/trail.html 

I'm not proud of how I ended this hike.  The last hour or so felt like one of those nightmare car trips where the kids keep asking, "Are we there yet"...except I was the whiny kid. But Jewell kept a great attitude--even though her yard work was put on hold AND her knees were starting to give her problems.  (To the extent that whenever she was going downhill she had to keep her knees from bending...and how did I support her?  By telling her she looked like a hiking Frankenstein.  How do I still have friends?) 

 I was overjoyed when the trail finally started heading down to where I was SURE the car was parked when Jewell turned around and said, "What if this is wrong, and this isn't actually going to the parking lot, but just to the road which leads UP to the parking lot", to which I replied, "Then I will sit down and cry".  But thankfully, when we got to the ROAD (and not the parking lot) there just happened to be young man driving down just at that time; and yes, I did not hesitate to flag him down and beg him to drive us up to our car.  "You've done your good deed for the day/ your mother should be so proud/ you've saved our lives" we cooed the entire mile and half back up the road. (A mile and half that felt like twenty and would have surely turned me from whiny kid into full blown pain in the ass)  And since we survived such an ordeal, we decided to treat ourselves to a wonderful late lunch at the Rhododendron Cafe on the way home, which was divine.  So here's to Jewell, who sacrificed her yard and knees to spend a day hiking with this less than valiant friend.  

A Devil's Mountain Morning

Saturday mornings are not my favorite.  It's probably because the kids are not in school, and they are usually just laying around like lumps.  This last Saturday was particularly bad-- I know when I'm throwing the clothes in the dryer and slamming it shut, or bursting into tears at the kitchen sink (or in this case, both) I can possibly chalk it up to hormones...but I still hate it.  Because my inner critic is saying things that if I'm honest I have to admit, hormones or not, have some truth to them.  But it's the brutality of the accusations that really get to me.  "It's your fault your kids have no ambition...you haven't been any sort of example. You never make them clean up after themselves...no wonder they are such slobs.  If you were just a better mother, maybe they'd have a chance at success, but as it is..." and I have no strength to defend myself, just tears and despair.


So on that happy note, I decided to go on a hike.  Ken caught me crying before I left and gave me the manly advice not to "freak anybody out" while I was hiking.  ("Watch out, here comes a hysterical woman!  Run for your lives!")  So I choose a hike where I would spare the public my dramatics...it's only ten minutes away and not many people hike there because, like my thoughts, the trail is quite ugly.  What a better place to throw a grand pity party than Devil's Mountain?
It's really just a service road--gravely, weedy, without many pretty trees or wildflowers, and steep as well. 

And as I huffed and puffed and sobbed along,  I tried to figure out how I was going to be a better role model to my kids. Get up at 6:00am every morning and hike this stupid mountain...that shows self discipline.  Never take another drink...that shows self control.  Go back to school...that shows self reliance.  Self, self, self.  Meanwhile my dog Lexi bounced along, enjoying the smells, the puddles, chasing the birds...living and enjoying just being what she was created to be. 

Dang, sometimes I really resent being human.  But then I got to the top, and ohhhhhh...the mountains, the valley, the farms, the ocean and islands.  Such beauty.  So bigger than my despair and guilt and shaming thoughts.  Bigger than my fears.  Can I not trust the Creator of such loveliness to lead me when He promises He cares for me?

I told a friend of mine that "God is bigger than our mistakes", and then reminded her that God's strength is made perfect in weakness.  Do I really believe it?  I'm trying--when my hormones will let me :)  


So as I made my way back down I prayed and asked some hard questions.  "Am I a problem drinker?"  I decided when I got home I would get online and look up A.A.  (they actually have a 'test' that if you answer yes to 5 or more questions you can consider yourself an alcoholic...that was one test I was thankful to fail)  I prayed about going back to school; even though money's tight, maybe an online course here and there is doable.  Hiking Devil's Mountain everyday?  Let's face it, there's no way in hell that's going to happen. (pun intended ;)  I was deep in my thoughts ("Kelly's world" as my neighbor calls it.  I never wave when we pass in our cars because I'm often stuck there) and you wouldn't believe what happened.  I managed to get lost.  (which is pretty difficult to do, considering it's a ROAD)  Kinda ironic, huh?  But unlike usual, I didn't panic.  I didn't beat myself up. (well, maybe a little.  The road goes down...how hard can that be?)  I didn't obsess over the time I wasted. (just more exercise, right?)  I just turned around and tried to find where I had gone wrong.  And eventually I did--there was a Y in the road I hadn't noticed.  Lessons learned...sometimes it takes getting lost to find them.

Going Off Trail...Proceed With Caution

My last post got me thinking, and even though I'm pretty nervous about it, I've decided to post these thoughts...perhaps against my better judgement.   As I was re-reading my "hiking lessons" (especially the last one that said to "never go off trail, no matter how tempting")  I kept hearing the voice of my critics..."See, rules are important! You can't just say, 'it's not about the rules', because somebody's going to end up falling off a cliff!".  (for anyone just coming in, you'll have to read "Night in the Gas Chamber", where I bring up some spiritual issues concerning rules) 


Side note here: yes, the 'voice of my critics' are certain people I love whom I imagine would think this.  I understand imaginations of how people are thinking are dangerous, because they are often inaccurate...but you have to admit we all do this whether we should or not.  So I'm offering a defense (hopefully not defensively) to my opponents. (real or imaginary)  So from this point on be warned...we are going off the trail of humorous hiking fodder, and headed for the treacherous ground of religious doctrine and possible heresy.


First of all, I never meant to convey that rules are not important. But what I wish people would consider more is, why are they important?  Rules are for protection, are they not?  I give rules to my kids to protect them from harm, and so they won't harm others.  Lessons, on the other hand, are about understanding.  In my opinion, it's better to understand the 'why' behind a rule, in case a situation arises when the rule is not serving it's purpose and needs to be broken.  For example, let's say I tell my kids, "don't go in the pool today", because maybe I just put a boatload of chlorine in there and I know it will hurt their skin if they go in.  Maybe my child jumps in anyway...maybe because it's just so hot, and they don't think the chlorine's a big deal.  Yes, I get mad...but because they didn't trust me and now they are hurt.  I didn't ask them to stay out of the pool to earn my love, I asked them because I love them.  Now say the dog falls in the pool and is drowning.  One child understands it's more important to jump in and get a skin rash than let the dog drown.  The other kid, who only cares about following the rule so as not to get in trouble, not only does not jump in, but actually feels superior to the child that jumped in because he 'disobeyed'.  Which kid am I mad at now?


I understand why people want to clarify the rules and always have them in black and white.  We want clear directions so we won't screw up.  And we understand the danger of 'following your heart', because our hearts are deceitful and have led us astray many times.  But listen to what God promises us,
"A new heart also will I give you, and a new spirit will I put within you...and I will cause you to walk in my statues...I will also save you from all your uncleanliness".(Ezekiel 36:26)
I do need to follow this new heart, and trust it and rest in the assurance that God is the one who is saving me, not me saving myself by following rules.


I think it's pretty obvious I'm not all worked up over this rule thing just so I can drink alcohol without guilt.  There is a much, much bigger rule issue in my life, and it's time to just lay it out there.  My daughter is a lesbian.  And everyone can tell me "oh, we love Amber...we just hate her sin", but I really wish they would consider more carefully what they are saying.  Why do they hate her sin?  What about her sin makes them so disgusted?  Because she harms herself?  Because she harms others?  "Because the Bible says it's a sin".  Well, the Bible also says a woman who divorces and remarries is living in adultery.  I don't go around telling my remarried friends that I "love them, but hate their sin".  If I was to make a point of letting them know I didn't "approve" of their second marriages, or that my marriage and love for my husband was valid and theirs was sinful, but then expect them not to feel offended, judged and hurt because "I still love them"...well, I'm sorry, but I don't think that would fly. 


I understand my family and friends are not intending to hurt Amber or me, and so much of my anger is born from defensiveness and I know I need to (and in a large part I have) let go of it.  But there is another anger in me that I'm not sure what to make of.  It's a frustration, a deep desire, to help people see God does not get angry because of His ego ('How dare they not believe in me!  How dare they disobey! Well, I'll show them who's boss, just you wait!") but because of His love and desire to save. (And if you insert "from sin" instead of "eternal punishment" as the thing we are being saved from, the scriptures make a lot more sense in my opinion...but that's a whole nother ball of wax.  In case anyone wants to think about it though, here is a question: how can a punishment have no beginning?  Eternal means no beginning and no end, so how can that be the correct translation in the few scriptures that refer to eternal punishment?)


Maybe it doesn't seem to you that these two issues are related, but I think they are.  If people didn't believe that God was going to ultimately reject my daughter because of her unwillingness to repent (instead of just discipline her for her own good...if she is indeed breaking one of the only two laws that really matter; loving God and others) then maybe they wouldn't feel such a great need to disapprove of her 'lifestyle choice', and just let God be her judge.   And wouldn't it be great to trust that all of God's judgements against us and our loved ones, (even the painful ones) will ultimately result in a positive change? (i.e. When your judgments come upon the earth, the people of the world learn righteousness. Is.26:9)


I'm going to end here with an excerpt from my journal.  In the passage I mention, Jesus heals a man on the Sabbath, which broke a big rule. (one of the top 10)  I know it's easy for us in this day and age to understand "of course it's not a sin to do something good on the Sabbath!"  But in that time and place, and to the religious authority watching, Jesus displayed only one thing...disobedience.  And Jesus still choose to heal, even though it meant "right away they started making plans to kill him".  So here is my journal entry:
 Jesus was angry as he looked around at the people.  Yet he felt sorry for them becasue they were so stubborn. (Mark 3:5)  Why do people always think anger has to be so hateful?  Maybe because our anger is usually hateful--or at best condescending.  Clearly God's anger can be compassionate, as Jesus so beautifully demonstrates.  He is the perfect demonstration of God's attributes in human form.  How amazing!  I am so confused by my anger.  It's mostly so wrapped up in selfishness that it always seems sinful to me.  But I don't think I can be a healthy person until I learn how to express anger.  It's good to know I should also feel sorry for the people who make me angry.  "Lord, I'm so thankful your changing my heart to be like your heart.  Help me understand Your anger, so I can learn what healthy anger is.  Amen."

Chain Lakes Ending--Finally

Yes, I know it's sad, but this post is finally going to wrap up the Chain Lakes saga. After Mel and I got all settled in our tent for the night, we just kept talking and giggling as girls will do. I don't know what time we fell asleep, but I'm guessing it was pretty late because we slept in until 8:30. I expected to be packed up and heading out by that time, so we tried to hustle. I say "tried" because everything was frozen, which tends to disable your thumbs from working properly.


This is where hiking lesson #3 and #4 come into play.  #3--you need the rain fly on even it's not raining to protect you from the frost...this we knew, but the lesson we learned is you should put it on before you start drinking, otherwise you won't be able to figure it out and you'll just drape it on, which doesn't really work but you won't care at that moment. (but you'll care in the morning)  #4--bring your backpack in your tent so it doesn't resemble a Popsicle when you go to put it on. (Mel did this and told me to...I ignored her. Again, I think Jack Daniels may be to blame)


Getting out of the sleeping bag was the hardest part, and we both thought that a sleeping bag that was pretty much a body suit that you can wear while you pack up would be a great idea. (would somebody get on that please? Call the Snuggie company :)

Our saving grace was that it was an absolutely beautiful day, so even though I hate being cold, it was hard to be cranky. As we were making our way back to the main trail it was shocking to me how totally different everything looked, and it was actually even more difficult to stay on the right path. I'm glad I wanted to take a picture of the sign I had misread when we came in, because it reminded us that we needed to "turn" in order to do the loop. Otherwise I bet we would have just kept going back the way we came, and it would have been such a shame to miss the upcoming views.

So we went back up that steep hill we took a detour on the day before, but this time we kept going...up...and up.  I must say, I greatly prefer going down, but the great thing about going up is getting to the top of something, and this was no exception.  Behind us was Goat Mountain (I think :)

and in front was Mt. Shuksan (pretty sure),

and let me tell you, if I knew how to yodel that was the time to do it.  (Mel, your Dutch...where was the yodeling?)  Now we would be starting the decent, (hooray!) but there was one problem.  Where did the trail go?  Being at the top, we could see where we were supposed to end up, but with no obvious way as to how to get there. We considered just scrambling down the rocks (it didn't look like it would be that hard) but decided to actually break out the map instead. Using the map to locate the trail...what a novel idea!

Yes, now we could see the trail was to our left, carved into the side of the mountain...way over there...and it looked boring and unsightly.  Hummm...maybe just scrambling down would be faster, and more exciting.  But remembering the "Mr. Short Cut Bones Man" (see "Not Just Whistling Dixie" blog) we decided to make our way to the real trail, and once we got there we were SO glad we did.  Looking over to where we had been, we now could see how terribly steep and treacherous it was and realized what a bad idea trying to go down that way would have been. (plus the real trail was amazingly beautiful--you just couldn't tell from such a distance)

Thus we come to lesson #5:  no matter how tempting, always stay on the marked trail, even if you have to backtrack or sidetrack to get there.  And so we come to the end of my story...happily making it out alive and with all limbs attached, ready and awaiting future adventures.  I will try to post any hikes I might do this spring, but what I'm really looking forward to is next summer when I hope to do a two nighter!  Until then, happy hiking everyone!