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A snowshoe adventure in Hyak territory

Found myself on a snowshoe adventure the other morning in a crowd of complete strangers. It was in the name of research for some work that I’m crafting with words. And thoughts; emotions; revelations acquired from personal experiences outdoors.

I deduced a few things: That I still love how the snow sparkles in the sun—millions of scattered diamond necklace specks. How the yawning azure skies prove the world is round. How you can see just where that ancient glacier cut through these sleeping mountains that I’ve looked on a thousand times by now. I love how it’s all just here, for us; well, for snowshoe adventures anyway. It changes with the seasons and back again with no mind to man. OK, except for the lumber that’s been razed (and re-planted), and, I suppose, myriad other things. But… not on a Sunday winter morning, when the sun creates a sheen on the half-frozen lake, blue shadows on the snow.

I also found out that I love spying newborn discovery unfold in fresh, innocent faces. It’s a pleasant and exciting feeling inside your own heart. It’s nice to see that little experiences, adventures go a long way with curious minds. Perhaps that’s why Jeremy, our naturalist guide, does this sort of thing—lead city dwellers in flopping snowshoes through evergreen woodlands to banks covered in snow, for hot tea and organic pastries and a talk of nature and history.

He taught me something, too, that I guess I already knew: During the long Seattle winters you can always “get out of the gray and escape into the white.”

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