A Hike Up Purple Point

I’m looking back through photos from my summer in Stehekin, photos I took and then forgot about. Amazing how these were just a few of the thousand beautiful things I saw. Beauty that just exists and is ours to go and have, if we want. This kind of beauty fills you up, from your toenails to the tips of your sun-burnt ears. It becomes a part of your subconscious and is in you, on long mournful commutes through urban-sprawl wastelands. An image filed away behind your eyes.

IMG_1697 IMG_1698 IMG_1715 IMG_1717 IMG_1721 IMG_1723 IMG_1727 IMG_1733 IMG_1743 IMG_1748 IMG_1753 IMG_1759 IMG_1766 IMG_1767 IMG_1769 IMG_1770 IMG_1775 IMG_1777 IMG_1785 IMG_1786 IMG_1787

The memory of that blazingly hot hike in July. Eight miles up and four thousand feet gained, through dusty wildflower gardens all aflame in the sun. Then down, dripping in sweat and knees in agony, to that sapphire lake, perfectly ice cold. I dove in and screamed. I was sore for a week after. And now I feel full, still, of that feeling at the top, when suddenly I climbed that last peak and a sea of snow-capped peaks unfolded around me. I stood in a swarm of lady bugs and moths and bees, gasping and squinting and sweating, surrounded.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s