Interest at a Young Age

Although I was born in the suburbs of Seattle, once a year, every year,  I have the opportunity to escape and reconnect with nature. Each spring, the entirety of my extended family hops over to Hood Canal to spend the weekend at 'Pott's of Gold', a slightly run-down, yet slightly awesome log cabin that provides the ideal arena for relaxation and reflection. Pott's is located on a hillside just off Hwy 106, with the canal at the base, and mountains that rise directly behind the property. I come from an adventurous family and it has always been a tradition for young and old to hike up the mountain, rain or shine. Being (almost) the youngest of twelve rambunctious cousins, the hike was a rite of passage and only the brave made it to the summit. Naturally, my fear of heights escalated from birth until I was around ten years old. In the years of my early pre-teens, I was left paralyzed with fear as our trail led onto the side of a cliff and I chose to sit on a fallen log as they continued on. This was a common occurrence for me, and although I despised the life-threatening gaze from the tops of trees, not less than 200' below, I felt safe as I hugged the firm mountainside and looked down onto the canopy of nature. I believe that fear only intensified my memory and grasped hold of the elements I fell in love with, like the delicate lichen on the trees and the quiet whisper of noises in nature like birds chirping in the distance or squirrels bustling through the leaves. As I waited, my attitude flipped 180 degrees, from a failure that couldn't make it up the mountain, to a teammate of nature. I quickly came to understand that, sitting on the log, I too was a part of the land, and it would never leave me behind.

I am pleased to say, however, that when I was 14-years-old I finally made it to the summit, despite my fears and preconceptions. It was a happy day in terms of life-goals, and the view was everything I had hoped for. With my cousins all around me, a Capri Sun in my back pocket, and the same trees I had gazed upon for years finally within arm's reach, I realized two things. First, that the climb was worth it and second that I will never regret all of my years sitting on what seemed to be the edge of the world and making peace with the life around me.

 

On a sad note, I regret to say that this hike no longer exists. No less than two years ago, all of my cousins suited up and prepared for our hike as usual, only to find a clearing where our forest used to be.We could no longer find the way. Developers began construction barely six months after the initial shock and my serene sanctuary now hosts a lot of cookie-cutter homes with asphalt streets and motor homes in their driveways.