Read Online North Fork by Wayne M. Johnston - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Wayne M. Johnston
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before, and to the viewpoint on top of Mount Eerie, which is right next to Sugarloaf but has a road to the top and a lot of towers for cell phones and military communications stuff. The view from Mount Eerie is a little better because itâs higher. On a clear day, you can see Mount Baker and the Cascades. Looking south you can see the Sound all the way to Everett, and to the west the Strait of Juan de Fuca and the Olympic Mountains, but since you can drive up Mount Eerie, it can get pretty congested and touristy.
We werenât going for the view. Kristen, of course, influenced the choice, and itâs true, I thought about her a lot. The trail up is really steep and you donât do much talking unless you stop because the climb takes away your breath. I kept imagining her and that little turd together on the trail and tried to visualize how it was and what they said to each other.
Of course I wouldnât have been there without Brad, and I would have gotten lost without him. He is a hiker and has been all over the Cascades. When I suggested we spend our time together on Sugarloaf, I didnât know he would know what he was doing, and would think to get a trail map from the little kiosk thing bythe parking lot, and that we would need it because there are lots of forks in the trail. Even though there were signs with numbers on them nailed to trees, if you werenât paying close attention, even with the map, you would soon find yourself disoriented. Lost.
Itâs kind of dark in there, like a jungle, all green and brown and damp and cool-feeling. That day, the sunlight hit the bushes, the fallen, rotting trees and the needle-covered ground in yellow dapples. It made me feel good inside even though I felt Kristenâs presence. It was a weird feeling because I knew I should be sad for her. And I am, but I wasnât feeling sad at that moment and couldnât make myself feel that way.
Brad kept wanting me to walk ahead because heâs a gentleman and itâs supposed to be good manners to let the lady walk in front, so he was being nice. But in this book I read for one of my classes written by this Native woman who grew up in eastern Washington during the time the Natives were having to make huge changes to adapt to all the white people who were moving in, she talked about how the early settlers thought it was rude that Native men walked ahead and had the women and children follow. She said there was a good reason, which was that most of their walking was in the woods or in places that belonged to animals like bear and cougars, and the man walked ahead to protect the women and children from attack by an animal.
This was running through my head because last year there were several cougar sightings near town and dogs and cats were disappearing. The paper said that it was probably young cougars and that when they reached a certain age, like teenagers, they had to go out on their own and find their own territory, and since dogs and cats were easy prey, and because there is less and less forest, they sometimes tried places where people lived. There donât seem to be any around this year, but I still couldnât help imagining them lurking in the brush, so I told Brad about thecougar sightings and that I wanted him in front, and that the paper said we should make noise and try to make ourselves seem as big as possible. Of course when he was walking ahead, I couldnât help thinking about what was behind me, but I pushed it out of my head so as not to spoil the day. A little bit of dangerâs not a bad thing. It can draw people together.
Before you get to the top, thereâs this nice viewpoint off to the side of the trail with a natural bench formed by an outcropping of black rock that has lichen and moss growing on it. It looks out over the San Juans and the Strait of Juan de Fuca, and is a great place to catch your breath. As usual, Brad was wearing a baseball cap which wasnât
We werenât going for the view. Kristen, of course, influenced the choice, and itâs true, I thought about her a lot. The trail up is really steep and you donât do much talking unless you stop because the climb takes away your breath. I kept imagining her and that little turd together on the trail and tried to visualize how it was and what they said to each other.
Of course I wouldnât have been there without Brad, and I would have gotten lost without him. He is a hiker and has been all over the Cascades. When I suggested we spend our time together on Sugarloaf, I didnât know he would know what he was doing, and would think to get a trail map from the little kiosk thing bythe parking lot, and that we would need it because there are lots of forks in the trail. Even though there were signs with numbers on them nailed to trees, if you werenât paying close attention, even with the map, you would soon find yourself disoriented. Lost.
Itâs kind of dark in there, like a jungle, all green and brown and damp and cool-feeling. That day, the sunlight hit the bushes, the fallen, rotting trees and the needle-covered ground in yellow dapples. It made me feel good inside even though I felt Kristenâs presence. It was a weird feeling because I knew I should be sad for her. And I am, but I wasnât feeling sad at that moment and couldnât make myself feel that way.
Brad kept wanting me to walk ahead because heâs a gentleman and itâs supposed to be good manners to let the lady walk in front, so he was being nice. But in this book I read for one of my classes written by this Native woman who grew up in eastern Washington during the time the Natives were having to make huge changes to adapt to all the white people who were moving in, she talked about how the early settlers thought it was rude that Native men walked ahead and had the women and children follow. She said there was a good reason, which was that most of their walking was in the woods or in places that belonged to animals like bear and cougars, and the man walked ahead to protect the women and children from attack by an animal.
This was running through my head because last year there were several cougar sightings near town and dogs and cats were disappearing. The paper said that it was probably young cougars and that when they reached a certain age, like teenagers, they had to go out on their own and find their own territory, and since dogs and cats were easy prey, and because there is less and less forest, they sometimes tried places where people lived. There donât seem to be any around this year, but I still couldnât help imagining them lurking in the brush, so I told Brad about thecougar sightings and that I wanted him in front, and that the paper said we should make noise and try to make ourselves seem as big as possible. Of course when he was walking ahead, I couldnât help thinking about what was behind me, but I pushed it out of my head so as not to spoil the day. A little bit of dangerâs not a bad thing. It can draw people together.
Before you get to the top, thereâs this nice viewpoint off to the side of the trail with a natural bench formed by an outcropping of black rock that has lichen and moss growing on it. It looks out over the San Juans and the Strait of Juan de Fuca, and is a great place to catch your breath. As usual, Brad was wearing a baseball cap which wasnât
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