We had eaten dinner at our campsite after a long day of trail work in the North Cascades National Park, installing new signage for the Pacific Crest Trail and brushing huckleberry bushes back from the trail as it made its way around Howard Lake. I warily walked down the steep boot path to the water source for camp, the rushing Stehekin River.
Instead of turning left down to where the trail ends in small boulders swirling with frothy water. You can balance on to reach in with your water bottle and bandanna, I made my way right along the river’s edge about fifty feet. Here the path weaves between thin trees and notches in the canyon carved out by the water’s ever present caress until you come to a decent sized ledge with a view of the Stehekin as she cascades past.
I remember sitting there for what seemed to be hours. The echo of the icy river spilled over the tossed boulders littered along its bed, vibrating the ground as I reclined as a natural massage for my weary muscles. There was nothing but the sound of the river to occupy my thoughts as it gave the appearance of hurling itself right at me before quickly diverting past.
Looking around I was aware of the spongy green moss clinging to tiny cracks in the rock and delicate pools of splashed current that had been captured into the smooth dips in the surface below me closer to the water’s touch.
Then, suddenly a small bird darted out from somewhere in my vision to the right and perched itself on one of the large rocks out in front of me. An American Dipper fishing for its own dinner.
Back and forth, the bird darted from several rocks on the river to a small hole in the canyon wall I couldn’t quite see from where I was sitting (and I wasn’t about to lean any further out from my ledge). I was mesmerized at the dance it was having as it searched for a meal.
Even where he stood on rocks with water rushing over them, he was unfazed. Moments before my mind had wandered to what it would be like to accidentally get caught up in the power of the river, swept downstream towards Lake Chelan. And here was this tiny bird confidently defying its force. I found myself deeply present to what was happening, there was nothing but the bird and the river.
Eventually the sun had descended enough in the sky that I would soon need my headlamp (back in my tent) to safely make it back so I stood and walked back up towards camp like a child who must put her toys away before bed. As I relaxed myself into my sleeping bag, I vowed to return each night we were here to that spot.
That feeling has brought me back to this spot and others along the Stehekin River each time I visit the North Cascades National Park, always searching to recapture the moment of letting go of all life’s worries and cares and being present in the natural world around me. And it never disappoints.
This post was written in one hour for the #NatureWritingChallenge. Check out Twitter to learn more or see my other posts from the challenge here.
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