P52 Week 15 - Photographer's/Writer's Choice

I have been part of a writing group for five years. My stalwart buddies have been there for me through thick and thin as I’ve struggled to complete my memoir. At every meeting we do some free writing, taking turns coming up with topic suggestions. This week Jack came up with ‘hike.’ Here’s what immediately came to mind….

Mailbox Peak! Stephanie had it on her bucket list and wanted to climb it on her 30^th birthday. Eager to please my daughter, I believed I was totally fit enough to join her, and idiot that I am, I agreed.

I’d heard how rigorous the hike was from my son, Stephen. He had climbed it several times in preparation for an even more vigorous climb atop Mt Rainier – which he ended up not doing because he became a dad and got smart. Stephen had driven up many an evening after work to do the climb – “No sweat Mom, it’s not that hard.”

I was well prepared – I thought. I had good hiking boots and socks. I had a hat, sunscreen, water, energy snacks. I even remembered a bug deterrent – a novel bracelet that I’d discovered at MacLendon’s hardware store.

I forget the exact stats but the hike entailed about a 4,000 foot elevation in 2 or 3 miles. Anyway, as you can see, I don’t remember the numbers and woe is me, I had no concept of what those numbers meant.

From the get go the trail was straight uphill, rocky, with huge step-ups. Well, this is a good workout I thought to myself. There’ll be a break in the elevation in a bit so I can catch my breath. Wrong! There wasn’t a break the whole way up. I had to stop every minute or two, perch on an incline in order to catch my breath. Stephanie was faring better, but not by much. The hikers coming down were encouraging when I asked how far to the top: “Not too far to go, you’re doing great!” Liars!

But at last, we managed to scramble to the top and there, indeed was a mailbox, weathered, rickety, filled with mementos, letters and a journal, dog-eared and chock full of entries.

The view was stupendous, gorgeous.

The bugs were belligerent and bountiful, totally unfazed by our bracelets. We took a quick picture or two and decided to head down before we got eaten alive.

“Remind me to check out my bucket lists a little more carefully from here on out,” Stephanie moaned.

The huge steps were even harder to navigate going down than climbing up. I managed several of them on my ass, and others with Stephanie assisting her old lady. My knees and thighs were barking – hell they were roaring – by the time we shuffled into the parking lot.

Ah, but the cool draft of beer, the juicy hamburger and greasy fries at the Issaquah pub afterwards almost – almost made the crazy hike worth it.