The Journey Continues: We Spiraled In

We spiraled in:

Into the labyrinth at base camp in Bothell and across the Sound on the ferry,
Into the mountains, looking out across Olympic ranges from Deer Ridge, then down
Into the valley of the Greywolf River at its three forks,
Got into some wild berries, intimate councils, and giggly games of psychiatrist,
Hiking through old-growth forests, the river our constant companion, and up
Into subalpine meadows of lupine and indian paintbrush and waddling marmots,
And finally into the basin of Cedar Lake,
Into solo time.

And there we sat in the still mountain air
The silence broken by the occasional piercing whistle of a marmot.

The three participants sat on their own in quiet reflection
Perhaps soaking up the life of the place around them
Perhaps learning how to rest more deeply in themselves
And the fog rolled in thick. It mad a sort of visual silence, a cool unknown
And then rolled through as clouds swirled above the rocky ridge towering over us,
Letting the sun break out here and there in bursts of glorious warmth.

Hours passed and we brought our brave journeyers back together around a little fire
And they added a little glow as they spoke their first words emanating out of their quiet solitude.


And then we began spiraling back out:

First bites of post-quest food, almond butter noodles,
Hiking down, more games and laughter,
Hiking up (oh how we beasted that hill),
And down again out of the mountains and across the Sound
We sang our song to family and friends, and walked
Out of the labyrinth and back into our lives, refreshed, re-inspired, ready. 

By Cameron Whithey
Photos by Emily Pease