MAY 11-12th
The waking dream was about hummingbirds, or perhaps it was not a dream as the forest is quite populated. Humming does not seem to be the right word, perhaps buzzing is closer.
Scatter blasts of rhododendron color the road. Regassing at Sedro-Wooley, a hummingbird feeder is acquired to try to reproduce the waking dream state of the day. A growing angst returns passing through frustrating Sedro-Wooley pointing north along hwy 9. Saxon, Acme, Welcome, Maple Falls. This is clearly different sensation to be along the west side of Mount Baker. Without the moss draped trees everything seems tame exception the gas mart where fathers purchasing beer six packs accompany children arms of salted or sugared gastric corruption. Coffee thermos loaded and hwy 542 through Glacier and into the North Cascades National Park and north of Mount Baker to Hannegan Trail. With no other vehicles in site, a sunny stroll about the seemingly deserted cul de cedar but startled by ~ 30s red bearded packer. At first immobile staring at the Nooksack Ridge then turning states “Oh, I am just taking a rest”. Reminiscent of the acid burned brains from the Madison 70s. Within the hour the sun is gone and a dark sky rumbles closer, then drip, drop, sprinkle, shower, flashing cracking pouring rain. Mergus merganser,and Cathartis aura .
Then sun again. Backpacker gone but must not be far. Heavy mist on the Nooksack. Just a short break with a quick return of the rumbles.
New feeder, no buzzing. No ferns, no moss. Sun hike up the Hannegan Trail with views of waterfalls off the north ridge in the distance. Occasionally ice and rock join the fall, crashing in the cascades bringing delayed sound across the valley. Half mile along in a young grove, the red bearded hermit is seen sitting secluded silent draped in a large poncho that covers the pack. No tent, no fire. Turning he mumbles “I am just taking a rest”. Again flashbacks of acid heads. Trail gives Mt Sefrit look. Later, descending passing the hermit yet unmoved.
A ruffed grouse hesitants across the trail. Bonasa umbellus. Russ would be proud of me.
Later at dusk a helicopter approaches the valley unseen in the darkening. The sound is unfamiliar but possibly a hughes 500 or an early bell. The sound seems to stop abruptly perhaps landing at the overlook or gone behind the mountain.
