I will admit to you now that I love a good routine. There is nothing quite as satisfying as the successful execution of a well designed plan. If ever the adage, ‘plan your work - and work your plan’ needed any additional motivation for appropriate usage, this is the place.
Following the weekend’s astonishingly successful road test in the new Transit (she needs a nickname), and upon the completion of the associated post-event clean-up, storage, recap, debrief and media download, I went into a physical tail-spin - pulling up in the nick of time to avoid a catastrophic crash and burn. It might have had something to do with the quality of sleep Saturday night (in the back of the Transit, on an always too thin camping pad) and the eye fatigue that comes with 425 miles in two days, or some combination of accumulated, delayed muscle soreness, but whatever mash-up it was - by 1800 yesterday I was toast. Deciding to take the wiser of the paths available I went to bed early and cozied up for eight solid hours of rest and recovery. This was not to be as I almost immediately felt the all too familiar indicators of atrial fibrillation about to pop in for a session. I will spare you the frustrating details, noting only for the record that by the time I did drift into satisfactory rapid eye movement, the resulting dream-scape was lined with scorpions, tomahawk missiles, landmines and snakes. There was also a recurring alligator wanting me to verify an on-line user ID before it was too late and my heart would stop altogether, thereby ending the game - and not in my favor. So much for pleasant dreams!
This morning with my set list assembled and protocol established I set off for my favorite spin class of the week. This would be an excellent way to both manage my heart rate and practice my ability to compassionately deal with the realities at hand. Yesterday gone, tomorrow a dream, today is the gift. And I want to open it! It was a great session, long ascending hill climbs with a consistently increasing musical accompaniment. My sinus rhythm, although sporadic at first, finally settled into the flow and stayed there for the duration. I was pleased with the effort of the class as well as my portion of the responsibility to facilitate it.
I told but a single story from the two-day adventure. It is not uncommon for me to take the entire hour to tell a simple story, but today I felt more like tossing some quasars instead of lighting the entire sky with a metaphorical meteor shower. The story I told was this:
It is Sunday morning (yesterday). The day started way early at oh-dark thirty at a campground near the state park entrance. As you already know, I didn’t sleep well, but had the foresight to pack my thermos, so as I prepped the van for video action, I swallowed a cup of tepid coffee. This will have to do as the only other liquids I have are ice-cold beer and sparkling water. It is very cold and I am glad I brought along my flight jacket but wished I had packed my gloves. I cam up the fore-aft Go-Pros and thirty minutes before sunrise I am heading up the seventeen mile climb. The plan was to film one of our favorite rides (Hurricane Ridge) at an hour we never see. If things worked out I would capture both the sunrise from the tail cam and moon set from the forward facing camera. The plan was then to return to the bottom, stow the cams and grab my bike and ride what I had just filmed.
BUT, (always a frame pump in the spokes) when I got to the Ranger Station and looked at my phone for the time of day, it was (as always) later than I thought. The ride up and back is a minimum of three hours and I still wanted to retrace my steps and do some additional scouting and shooting. Ride scrubbed and I am back headed northward, stopping for hot coffee and a poppy-seed muffin along the route.
After stops at the Lake and a little used northern trail, I am heading up Sol Duc towards the hot springs. It is a 12.5 mile climb ending at the Lodge. I film to the top and then head back down to the Lodge to inquire about hospitality (because I plan of leading a group here asap that would end with a dip in the hot springs, a massage and dinner in the Lodge). Mike at the from desk empathetically tells me that the falls are a must-see on this route and that if I am creating a video for marketing said tour, that must be included. He says that it is less than a mile from the trail-head. And I am off.
It is great to feel the burn in my legs as I hike the trail. This is aptly named a rain forest as there is moss hanging everywhere from the lower branches of the giant fir, cedar and spruce. You can hear the roar of the falls from the first step. This is a very sacred space. After a quick hike I get to the falls and break out two cameras and a tripod. As I am setting up the sun sends splashes of light through the majestic old-growth trees illuminating the river. I scramble around boulders, between trees and over the bridge to capture different angles of all this magic. I have repelled down to the riverside looking back on the bridge, a wonderfully simple design of two forty foot fir trees acting as main horizontal supports and cedar planks for the deck. This is a state park so the hand rails are five feet tall, solid and secure. As I point and shoot the spray from the water crashing over the boulders has joined forces with the light to create a perfect half-circle rainbow stretching from the bridge's northernmost start to southernmost termination. I am giddy with joy in my lucky presence amid all this beauty. This is one of those circumstances that has the potential to have a lasting spot in my personal museum of magical moments. I am honored to be here.
When the sun removes the rainbows I sadly begin my departure and the inevitable return to the mundane. Hike out. Media stow, drive down the mountain. But on a lark I decide to stop in the lodge for a brunch they were advertising. More coffee would help.
I am sitting at a table that overlooks the hot springs pools enjoying a decent (not quite strong enough) coffee with the tasty quiche over browns and homemade toast and strawberry jam. Mike, the host, comes to my table to inquire if I had made the hike. I tell him I had. He asks,
Did ya see the rainbow?
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