8-mile

Last weekend over Independence Day I found myself in a most wonderful place - Eightmile Lake outside of Leavenworth. I hiked up a grueling 3.5 miles to get there to find the most premium of campsites open and available. Right on the lake, a few trees to break the wind and make it feel cozy, plenty of logs for sitting on and a wide, sloping rock outcropping at the water's edge, perfect for dreaming the afternoon away. Amy, Claire, Melissa and myself were eager to unpack and get things (a.k.a. nothing at all) started.

A few minutes after we set up camp, a couple stopped on the trail and asked if there were more campsites along the way. I was about to say 'yes, move along' but Melissa said 'no, this one was the best', which it was, and it was large enough to fit another group. I decided that it would be fine, I didn't mind. Turns out I did mind. The couple became 6 people. All weekend, when we cooked, they were there cooking their food. When we hiked up to the little lake, they were there. When we made our morning coffee, they did the same. When we had our morning quiet time on the rock face next to the perfectly still lake, they were there too, only not having quiet time, but yelling and carrying on. Their camp was a good 25' away, and they weren't really that loud, but it was so different.

Normally, when I backpack, there is no one else. The filter keeps all the other humans away. And with your own group, they know when to leave you alone so that you can soak up an hour or two of natural silence. But there they were. All the time. I guess a 3.5 mile filter isn't enough for someone as selfish with nature as I am.

That said, I had a great time. It was the first backpacking trip of the summer. From the moment I parked Judy at the trailhead and put on my boots in the noon sun, smelling the dry, sweet pine forest, I was totally happy. Claire was telling Amy as we walked up that she normally tries to get me to laugh a lot when we are hiking. She said that normally I am an easy laugh, but that in the woods it's 10x easier to get me to laugh. And it is. I giggle and belly laugh at the dumbest stuff until I almost pee. It must be that I just love being there. Like a fish loves the water, I love the woods. Except when I am scared of bears or traversing loose, steep slopes, or sleeping without earplugs and every chipmunk rustling becomes a bear ready to slowly slash the tent wall with his middle claw at 3am... Besides those things, I love the woods.