Cedar Gorge

I find myself with a heavy pack on my back. The path I walk is narrow, unbeaten, riddled with gnarled fallen trees whose only purpose in this universe is to make my task of trekking through this forest infinitely more difficult. The day has been long and tedious. I am so frustrated with the weight of the pack, the omnipotent burning on my body from the scrapes gathered from climbing over fallen trees, bee stings, sun burn and the ache of my muscles, I fail to realize the surroundings. Twisting arches of cedar protect me from the bite of the sun. Their gently wrinkled, soft bark juxtaposed to the wise, moss bathed boulders gives proof of the divine. The hush of a waterfall in the distance lulls all the surrounding animals to silence, except of course the birds; they can’t resist the opportunity to harmonize. I look up to the sky in desperation, praying to whatever may listen that this portage will be over soon. The weight of the pack has left my arms so numb they may as well not exist. Just as I feel it is time to give up and lean up against a tree to take a break, I see the water’s edge, and feel a cool rush that pushes me all the way to the end.

Thankfully, I drop the pack and feel like I could fly away. I remember hearing the faint hush of running water amongst my pants and curses. The primal adventure instincts that drew me to this trip in the first place calls. It wants me to visit the source of the sound that made an attempt to massage my ears in a time of despair earlier. I follow the path back, marveling in the beauty reserved for only those willing to make the physical sacrifice to find it. The hush gradually returns as I make my way down the path. Without hesitation I leave the path to find what will inevitably that which Eden was jealous of. To no surprise, a paradise is revealed.

A steep ravine gives protection to a creek, carving its way through these woods. Scattered throughout the creek, waterfalls cascade over ancient black rocks, coated with vibrant, undisturbed moss. At each one, the water flows over one rock and makes its way to each other one to feed the moss that grows there. The roots of the surrounding cedar hang over the walls of the rocks with eager thirst. I carelessly slide down the side of the ravine, disturbing the brown, deteriorating leaves for the first time. At the bottom I stand on one of the fallen cedars that stretches peacefully across the creek. I examine it more carefully and realize that there are new trees growing out of its dying flesh. A phoenix. The smoothly running water with a flicker of sunlight looks at me with a smile, a smile that says “come.” I angle my feet and slip into the water. My shoes slowly fill with cold, revitalizing water. Some splashes up and hits my face, carving away the dirt as it flows back down. I heave my way against the current with new found strength granted by the creek and make my way to the nearest waterfall. All around there is mist from the pound of water against water from the waterfall. The beams of light that manage to dodge the canopy of cedar cast a show of rainbows. I turn around and step back into the falling water. The pound that looked violent is forced to reveal its greatest secret: it is gentle as the bird is free. My muscles, ravaged by the hardships suffered to make it this far are caressed in a fashion only matched by that of my mother. Leaning further back, I realize there is a cave, protected by the gauntlet of the waterfall. You walk through the screen of water and look back through it. I drop my jaw. The colors of the black rocks, green cedar, and majestic rainbows, all blended in the most magnificent way by the rush of water.

My feet are freezing from the water so I make my way out. I pass through the screen of water again and begin to make my way up the ravine. I look back only to notice a small island that split’s the flow of the creek. Perfectly spaced at the edges of the island are the wisest of all the cedars in the forest, and in the middle of them, a sunbathed bed of moss. I am drawn back down the ravine and march through the water to the island. The moss gives way under my feet, but springs back vivaciously when I step away. I lie down in the sun and look to the sky. Perfection. In the distance there is some old, rusted piping, a propane tank and building materials. Someone tried to settle in this paradise, but was rejected by nature herself. This comforting reality puts me to sleep.

I wake up, the sun still warming every part of my body into an even deeper state of relaxation. I cannot stay here forever. Reluctantly I stand up and strut back up the ravine. As I move further and further away from the creek, the hush becomes fainter and fainter, whispering its final goodbyes to you. I feel heartbroken to leave, but look forward to what pleasures my hardship will bring tomorrow.