I wanted to climb something, except I didn't. I know this because I didn't pack my bag or get my gear ready last night or sit on NWAC trying to find some safe place to climb. Instead I set my alarm for 5 am and got out of bed at 5:20. The motivation is real.
I left the house after 7, with the vague direction of Mt. St. Helens. I figured it would be a decent morning for foggy tree photos and I planned to come home when I got rained out. Instead, the sun came up. Silly weather app. Light dappled the North Fork of the Toutle as it poured from the base of Helens. The wind howled and the clouds roiled. Coldwater Lake was as if a white-capped sea. Any view lasted only seconds before the wind repainted the scene. Despite the wind, Helens remained mushroom-capped in cloud. I watched as the clouds slipped down the south slope - the climbing route - while I sat in my truck writing my thoughts into a cheap book-of-a-therapist. I felt contentment in the midst of this nature channel with no commercials. I was unhurried. I had nowhere to be but right here.
I walked a bit. I took some photos. I wrote. I drove down gravel roads and turned around at all the gates. I took the long way home, seeing all that was to be seen. With my gas tank near-empty, I am happy to be home with photos and some peace. A day completely wasted and I couldn't be more pleased.
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