A journal excerpt...
Evening of July 13th, Hiker's camp. Arrived last night after fish and chips at a local tavern with a nice stout to wash it down. Feeling good as I start the short 1.5 mile hike up to camp, the heavy food in my stomach makes the uphill treck seem longer than just a mile and a half. As the trail finally flattened out, two dudes sitting by a fire and three adirondacks greeted me and bdog. They were cool guys, a teacher and engineer, just recently out of college. They graciously shared their PBR while we chatted.
A little later on, a dad and his two young sons came up over the hill. A five and a four year old carrying their own sleeping bags bested the ascent. Those boys brought a lot of energy to the camp running and screaming around the fire. This is normally a scene I try to escape will backpacking, but I didn't mind it at all.
Tonight, a lone old guy has been sleeping since 6 pm. My other neighbors are a father and son duo. They are tenting it just behind my structure. Had a nice chat around a fire and I am happy to see them crash early. If you are willing to camp with other people, this is a good place to meet cool characters.
Old, huge Sitka Spruce dominate this damp forest. Millions of different shades of green created by sword ferns, salal, stinging nettle, false lily of the the valley, and more. Western Hemlock are growing into their own. Red Alders, housing white lichen on their bark, sway in the wind. Swainson's thrushes dominate the plethora of bird calls. Gardner Snakes, really long banana slugs, and sneaky spiders provide a challenge for the observation skills. But the scene is dominated by the Spruce. Flakey bark and spiky needle like leaves give away their identity. The sheer size of some of these trees fills me with a sense of walking amongst my ancestors. If these trees could tell a story, would I be ready to listen?
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