Essay 4 from my recent camping trip; I’ve gotten a bit behind.
A few days after we celebrated my mother’s century birthday in grand style, I celebrated my own birthday alone in a national park. The National Park Service was born the same year my mother was. Because my mother was born, I exist. Because the NPS was born we all live and breathe.
The NPS is a national treasure. Thank you to Teddy Roosevelt who designated the first national parks, to Woodrow Wilson who signed the National Park Service into being, and to Franklin Roosevelt for the Olympic National Park. The NPS has been called America’s best idea. Amen to that.
If you’ve never visited a national park, there are 59 of them. There’s one near you. Get yourself there. I’ve been to 19, that I know of. I’m a little foggy on which “canyon” ones I might have visited as a child, and others I visited during childhood I barely know I’ve been to. It’s a drop in the bucket.
At the top of my bucket list, just above “go to Italy” (or move to Italy if a certain terrifying presidential candidate wins) is to visit all the national parks. I’m pretty sure that won’t happen, but I do plan to add to my list. I’ve been in all 50 states, which is worthless if I haven’t been to their parks.
Granted, they aren’t all the Olympic National Park, where I was on my birthday. Though all the parks are special in their own way—highlighting the diversity of America the beautiful—the ONP holds my heart.
As the daughter of a forester, I get that trees are a crop and that if we are going to keep using toilet paper and living in houses, we have to grow them and we have to cut them. But standing in the ancient enchantment of an old growth forest quite literally causes me to forget to breathe. The trees are immense, and their age is mind-boggling; they are older than my mother, older the NPS.
The destruction when they fall in the wild winter storms here on the Peninsula is staggering. Because of the NPS policy, except for clearing trails, they are left to lie where they fall, along with everything they take down with it. And their life is not over. New trees grow on top of them, spreading their roots to embrace the fallen mother, holding her close, taking nourishment from her even in death.
I’ve seen no one for over an hour and I feel deep, deep in the beating heart of the forest with only the river and the trees for company, and a host of unseen critters. As I walk, utterly alone, a grouse beats out a rhythm: happy birthday, National Park Service; happy birthday to me.
At least I think it’s a grouse. Could be a Sasquatch I suppose.
8 thoughts on “Light the Candles, Beat the Drum”
I am in awe of your ability and eagerness to explore alone. Someday I’d like go with you. I promise I’ll be quiet.
I have it on good authority the alpine meadow at Sunrise should be in fine form in a couple weeks.
I have been through so many parts of the Olympic N P., from the 1950’s when we went often as a family (thank you mom and dad) to last summer. As a single mom of 3 daughters I made sure my girls had the same camping and hiking experiences. Later took most of my grandchildren there. Thank you for your lovely pictures. Such good memories they bring to me!! What camera do you use?
We were lucky, weren’t we? I took my kids to the Great Smokey Mountains where my mother grew up and she and my dad courted. Now one of them lives in the Appalachian Mountains, and the other loves the OP and Cascades. I’m so grateful. I can’t wait to take my grandchildren there. (Of course, their parents will want to go too.) I have a Nikon S9700. Great little point & shoot, fits in my pocket. And i Photo on my Mac completes my photo team!
Always appreciate the pictures you post. Thanks!
Were you walking up the Skokomish trail from Staircase for those pictures?
Over the bridge from the campground down river to the suspension bridge (I don’t know if it would have been there when you were, it looks new) and beyond. I don’t remember the name of the trail.
There was a trail there, but I imagine the bridges are new. I spent my wedding night in May of 1975 camped at the base of an old growth fir on the staircase trail. We were unable escape from the wedding early enough to get to the first camping area at Camp Pleasant. We hiked up the Skokomish to Nine Stream shelter (now long gone I assume) and spent our honeymoon there. That is one of my favorite areas of the Olympic National Park.