Tag: Backpacking

Above Multnomah Falls

This warm winter makes the creek scream like spring. I dip my hand in, as far in as my long sleeves let me Smooth stones, slick, cold life, years in my hands. My fragile blood beats, knows the water by heart.   It’s good…

The Ledge

Out on the ledge, the snow hushes the wild. This kind of quiet soothes while it scares Strange mixture of awareness. A lone northern harrier is the only singer. She strafes the powder with one beat of her wings Eyes on everything, including me….

Labyrinth

Coyote Wall, Washington, February 2019. Click on image to enlarge. More images found here.  

Traveling Near the Dark

There’s a quietness about the river broken by a random leap, splash of steelheads. a prairie hawk loses a feather. The natives drink a loud liquor on their fishing platforms, dip nets looking for fish who choose to become parts of ceremonies.   The…

Two Windows

Two Windows Wildwood Trail, Forest Park, Portland Oregon, January 2019    

Fall’s Reach

Catching fall in the act. More Images here.

Ghost Story For The Wilderness Impaired

She’s a ghost. I know that. She brushes her fingers along my shoulders and I will look up to find her playing among the trees, pretending to be the wind. She’ll drop a pinecone or a small branch as a reminder. Then, off she…

Ramona Falls’ Mist

Ramona’s whisper requites us to ourselves—our fires extinguished, our thirst sated. That voice, a pact between mountain and moisture, is a quiet call to us The stumbling pilgrims, forest wanderers, wishful sages who suffer from acute chatter. Its language—slow—near wordless, near nothing, paints upon…

Looking Glass

Little Crater Lake, July 2018 A double blue reflection. The cobalt of the lake with its graveyard of dead trees lying on the bottom. One recent death half-floats in purgatory. And the deep blue of the sky, foregrounded by a living green forest. Both…

Dude

Near the Sandy Glacier on Mt. Hood, I met this spiky-haired, hip hop hippy. I liked his medallion. He was chill, happy, didn’t say much.

Face In The Woods

The woods are watching. Pacific Crest Trail, Oregon, June 2018     See more photos here.

Imprints

Trails… little lines through forests… embrace connections, gather imprints, from hiking boot, the brave flip flop, the weekend tennis shoe. I’m not alone, but, there’s a separateness I can’t deny.  My feet…clunky…bony things…bad negotiators of ground, stumbles into sunlight, with trees as easel, hangs…

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