Journal 1. | A Magical Escape

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September 3-8th, 2024

"Our Adventure began with a late breakfast at a Denny's somewhere in a sleepless Seattle...

Bryant laid out the itinerary he put together for us on our flight from Denver after sleeping through a third rewatch of Dune. Seeing one of my best friends fighting for his life to stay awake while Paul Atreides overcame the Gom Jabbar was truly a sight to behold. I laughed quietly to myself in a sleepy cabin, ironically unaware that I would soon be in dire need of such. For I too would fall victim to the swift clutches of Deprivation.

But, I was rather restless on that flight. Partly because I had just finished my own rewatch of a film I've grown to love dearly, About Time. and was reflecting on the scene between Tim and his father towards the end. A moment that could be described as the "Hallmark version of Luke and Darth Vader". Naturally, I thought of my own father. The wrinkles that settle in deeper with each passing year, the limp in his left leg that he tries to hide, and the fickleness of all our relationships. But, aside from the daily existential musing, I was teeming with youthful curiosity, ready to explore, and lose myself in the magic of the Pacific Northwest.

We discussed our game plan for the next four days over pancakes, hash browns, and black coffee. As soon as we scarfed everything down, we would drive our rental, which we had been hilariously upsold on due to the Alaskan charm of a lady clearly deprived of sleep and conversation, two and a half hours straight from the late-night breakfast establishment in Tacoma to Hurricane Ridge in Olympic National Park.

I always relish the experience of driving in a new place. When I shift the gear to drive and the soft rubber starts to pick up speed, I can imagine how the Spaniard must've felt when the Mayflower left the docks and began to catch wind over the Atlantic. The nerves that rushed through him as he thought of the endless discoveries to be made in the New World.

We sped through empty lanes barely illuminated by street lights and dark outlines of trees and houses fast asleep. Quiet karaoke of R&B kept me conscious as my friend reclined and drifted off with the rest of the state, forming a treacherous alliance against me. I enjoyed the drive despite a forty minute stretch of leaned-in, clutching of the wheel through thick, alpine fog. I marveled at the way life works to place you exactly where you need to be without realizing it. Within a few hours, we reached the base of Hurricane Ridge.

We began our careful ascent clockwise up the dark mountain.

The headlights of our vessel pierced the thick trees and faded into open areas of darkness that teased us as we climbed. The changing elevation making our ears pop. The steady hum of our engine was the only sound that could be heard as we reached our lookout. As soon as I parked, I drifted off into sleep only to be woken by the alarm of our car.

Bryant and I jolted awake in a panic to shut it off. I stepped outside into the brisk air and was met with the clearest panorama of the Milky Way I had ever seen.