Foothills Trail Walk

Day 107: The town of Orting lies in the path of prediction: sooner or later, Mount Rainier is going to turn loose a lahar which inundates the valley. When it will happen is anyone's guess, but as the climate grows warmer and warmer, the likelihood of the event increases. However, given a sixty-degree January day, who could pass up the opportunity to walk or ride the Foothills Trail? I elected to go by foot from downtown to the wetland interpretive site 4.5 miles east in the full knowledge that I could never outrun a mudflow if the Mountain chose to send one down the Carbon River. It's not that I am in denial of the hazard; it has not happened in my lifetime, so I'm playing the odds. That it could happen is never far from my mind, but that it would happen "on my shift" is a chance I'm willing to take. Like the residents of this valley, I just don't believe it will be today.

A Bridge For Everyone

Day 13: Lost in their gossip, the two women were entirely oblivious to the Blue Heron standing boldly on the path not a dozen feet in front of them. Even more astonishing was the dog's apparent unconcern, his attention given solely to repeated territory-marking of the bridge's wooden posts. I had braked my bike some ways back, careful not to startle the bird into flight, but I needn't have worried. He turned his back to the walkers, spread his legs in a defiant posture, as if to say, "You're not going to shift me. I was here first." Nevertheless, he was the one who gave ground, walking placidly into the brush at the side of the trail, still unnoticed by the chatting ladies or the dog. I felt for a moment that I had been given a glimpse of a better world, one where all things in nature coexist in a harmonious balance.