Together the Whole Way

As of today, James and I have been married 27 years and 1 day. In that time we have bought a home, raised countless fish, three dogs, two kids, had a few careers, owned our own business, sold a house, sold almost everything in the house, and headed out across the US in search of simplicity, purpose, adventure, and reconnection. Our anniversary was spent in the beautiful state of Washington, previously known to us Minnesotans for its apples, rainy winters, and Seattle Seahawks. What we have discovered up here in the pacific northwest is unquantifiable beauty. From mountaintops to meadows, from babbling brooks to emerald blue lakes … describing it all makes me want to wear out a thesaurus.

It also led me to crawling into the depths of our lower storage space to locate a pair of rather dated, sparingly used but eminently trusty hiking boots. I should probably put the word hiking in quotes because, since their original purchase 12 years ago for work on a driving track and classroom, they have mostly been in storage.

A couple of days ago, James and I wanted to explore Blue Lake near us. It’s allegedly billed as an Instagram-worthy hike and is supposed to be relatively easy. That is good since I unashamedly categorize myself as a tenderfoot, am out of shape and struggle a bit with altitude.  After turning off the tar to head to the trailhead, we navigated what we now affectionately call “billy-goat-gravel.” It winds mercilessly while rapidly gaining significant altitude and it’s more than rough … it’s gruff. When we got close to the Blue Lake trailhead turn off, we saw that the road was closed one mile ahead. (Here we go with another warning sign ignored.) and it would be a several mile hike to even start our adventure. Luckily for us, this warning sign was accompanied by a fork. Rather than go left for a mile to find out exactly why the “road” was closed, we headed to the right, to the uncharted unknown with our spirits high. Well, there was a sign indicating Pacific Northwest Trail in that direction and a quick look at the Trailforks app on the phone indicated it as a moderate hike. I should know better but we continued on to the trailhead.

The hike started off easy on a packed gravel trail. I was second-guessing myself for bringing walking poles and boots as overkill until the gentle slope gave way to a few snappy climbs and more tree roots and rocky obstacles. About a mile into the hike, surrounded by beautiful landscape, my heart rate was higher than I would have liked. I think James noticed the shift from walking to plodding and asked me to check my watch. We decided 170 bpm was a little high for me so we decided to take more frequent breaks for water and to rest. Kaia was not thrilled with this plan but entertained herself with more thorough sniffing of trees and bushes while she waited. After a short respite, we continued to climb up the path heading to what we were told was an amazing lookout tower. Not long after that we encountered our first obstacle. It was a boulder field with a healthy stream of water cascading over the rocks in several different paths. We had to pick our way through the boulders as it was difficult to see where the path was. As we were surveying our next move, a young lady and elderly couple came from the opposite way. We watched where they chose to cross and headed to the makeshift log bridge they just traversed. The logs were about 6 inches in diameter and were haphazardly caught across the shallow, yet fast moving water.  Some of the water was coming up over one of the logs which added to the wildness of the trail and my anxiety. James decided (or more accurately was volunteered) to go first and try it out. Kaia, tired of waiting for him to cross a non-OSHA approved bridge, decided she would go first. She cast aside her cat-like ways, ignored the pseudo bridge, and tromped right through the water to the other side. James quickly made it across without incident and then it was my turn. I put one boot on the small tree trunk and froze. My legs started shaking and I started to panic. I immediately flashed back to my one and only attempt at downhill skiing… when I went quickly out of control and traded a perfectly good knee for three months on crutches. The lingering absence of an ACL on one side means that my sense of balance can be suspect at times, especially when trying to stand over a rushing river on shaky legs. I tried to step backwards off the log and my pant leg got caught up on a branch. It was too much. I started to cry. The kind of cry that is silent, panicky and causes you to lose your breath. I turned my back away from James and tried to get ahold of myself reminding myself to take deep breaths and that this was no big deal. I prayed no one would come up the trail until I got control back. James came back over with the dog and was surprised I was in such a state. It was out of character for me to be this emotional, especially on something as non-death defying as this. He said, “It’s ok, let’s just head back.” UGH- My heart appreciated his sentiment, and my head wanted to keep going to make sure this obstacle didn’t stop me from moving forward now and in the future. I’m competitive like that. I said I needed a minute to recenter so he decided to head up the waterfall to see if there was an easier crossing. No such luck.  With legs still shaking, I decided to use my poles to help keep me balanced. The fast-moving water was not that deep and I had just enough leverage to get across. And, more importantly, just the right cheerleader to welcome me on the other side. We had a few more crossings that took some time but we made it. By the time we were at mile 2, my wracked nerves and challenged stamina told me I was done. We stopped for a snack and water again and I admitted that I didn’t think I could finish the hike. “That’s Ok honey, let’s just take our time and head back down.” I know he wanted to see the view from the lookout as much as I did. The view to where we stopped was beautiful and a tease of what was yet to come. He could have kept going too and that would have been just fine but he didn’t want to leave me. He’s thoughtful like that.

We have always striven for an equal and balanced relationship. In our 27 years and a day of wedded bliss, I probably can count on one hand the number of days where we had an actual 50/50 split. There have been days where I was 80 and he was 20 or I was 30 and he was 70. There were many, many days we both were at 100, even though the math doesn’t quite work out. This day I was definitely closer to the 10 percent and I needed him at 90. Thank goodness he could offer that for us.

This adventure of selling our home and setting out to experience this country has been a wonderful reconnection for us. A reconnection through celebration of our accomplishments, encouragement to push through when things get hard (and they certainly do!), understanding when we need to shift, of appreciation for the beauty all around us, and thankfulness for this time together sharing our journey. Never in the 30 years I have known James or the 27 years we have been married did I think we would be celebrating our anniversary here, camping, hiking, and truly living the way we want to live for right now. What a blessing. It is hard to put into words how incredibly happy I am to be his soulmate and his wife so I will simply say, “James, ILYA”.