Pines
“Theresa had been hoping for a pretty day, but it was cold, gray rain, the Olympics obscured, and nothing visible beyond their narrow corridor of highway.
But none of that mattered.
They were going regardless of the weather, and if no one else wanted to join her, she and Ben would hike up alone.
Her friend Darla drove, Theresa in the backseat holding her seven-year-old son’s hand and staring out the rain-beaded glass as the rainforest streaked past in a blur of dark green.
A few miles west of town on Highway 112, they reached the trailhead to Striped Peak.
It was still overcast, but the rain had stopped.
They started out in silence, hiking along the water, no sound but the impact of their footfalls squishing in the mud and the white noise of the breakers.
Theresa glanced down into a cove as the trail passed above it, the water not as blue as she remembered, blaming the cloud cover for muting the color, no failing of her memory.
The group passed the World War II bunkers and climbed thro...ugh groves of fern and then into forest.MoreLess
But none of that mattered.
They were going regardless of the weather, and if no one else wanted to join her, she and Ben would hike up alone.
Her friend Darla drove, Theresa in the backseat holding her seven-year-old son’s hand and staring out the rain-beaded glass as the rainforest streaked past in a blur of dark green.
A few miles west of town on Highway 112, they reached the trailhead to Striped Peak.
It was still overcast, but the rain had stopped.
They started out in silence, hiking along the water, no sound but the impact of their footfalls squishing in the mud and the white noise of the breakers.
Theresa glanced down into a cove as the trail passed above it, the water not as blue as she remembered, blaming the cloud cover for muting the color, no failing of her memory.
The group passed the World War II bunkers and climbed thro...ugh groves of fern and then into forest.MoreLess
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