Out here in the wilderness with the falls crashing behind him and the sun shining on his face, he was incredibly handsome; my heartbeat quickened. I reveled in the fresh scent of Evergreen trees, which reminded me of how he always smelled, naturally outdoorsy. I grinned. “Let’s do it.” Playfully, I added, “Race ya back to the car.”I took off, but it wasn’t long before his laughter and footsteps overtook me.
After driving several miles on the bumpy, gravel road Jason pulled over to the left side and pointed out his window. “That’s Wells Creek Falls, offering you great views from the front seat of your car. Nice part is that it’s easily accessible for anyone who can only manage a short walk or for families with small children.” I gave him a funny look, and he said, “Hey, no age is too young to start exploring Mother Nature.”
We started up the road again. Rolling around, I grasped the support bar above my head as we crashed over some monster potholes. “What’s the name of our waterfall?” I asked.
“Sholes Creek Falls.” He glanced over at me and bounced in his seat, almost hitting his head on the ceiling. “Our waterfall is much bigger then Well’s Creek Falls. It’s considered two-tiered; the first drop careens about 60 feet and the second plunges about 100 feet. Standing at the base of the falls, we’ll only be able to see the second tier, though. You’ll love it. It’s stunning.”
I looked at him in amazement. “How do you know so much about the waterfalls?”
He grinned and pulled a Waterfall Finders Guide Booklet out of his door pocket. “Besides this, my parents took me hiking all over Mount Baker National Forest when I was a kid. After I was old enough to explore on my own, I spent my free time studying maps and tromping through most of these mountains. I’ve seen some of nature’s incredible hidden treasures and encountered some awesome wildlife.”
“You’re obviously quite the adventurer,” I said.
“Absolutely,” he said.
CHAPTER 15 – THE HIKE
He parked the truck on the side of the road and pointed to the water running under a bridge. “Okay, we’re here. That’s Bar Creek, and just upstream a ways on the left it meets up with Sholes Creek. As you can see, there’s nothing but thick brush between us and our destination, so we’ll be hiking a short distance through the woods. Then we’ll drop down to Sholes creek. Any problem with getting your feet wet?”
Lifting my feet in the air, I shook my head and pointed at my new sandals. “Nope, these babies are waterproof and supposedly have great traction.”
“Good,” he said and grabbed his backpack off the floor. “Once we reach the creek, we’ll hike through the waters and up to the base of our waterfall.”
We set off, and he told me to follow close, because it would be easier to walk in his footsteps. He was right. We pushed our way through what looked like a dense jungle of vines. Sticker bushes scraped my legs, and branches smacked my face a couple times. From high above, the sun was generating comfortable warmth, but in a couple more hours the heat would be extreme. Some sort of tall, wispy weed in the high scrub was putting off a pungent odor, like decaying meat. I was delighted when we stepped out of the thicket and into the open canopy.
Jason stopped and pointed at an orange flag painted on a mighty hemlock tree. “We could take an easier route through the trees and stay dry. Up to you.” He gauged my response.
“Hiking through the creek works for me. I trust you not to let me wash down stream.”
He smiled and said, “Good. I promise to keep my eye on ya. Besides, it’s more of a rush.” He motioned for me to follow, and we set off through the forest again.
The ground was covered with pinecones, needles, and a funny layer of mustard green moss. He pointed out small blueberry plants covered in blossoms and said it was too early for the fruit. We weaved in and out of monstrous evergreen trees, and I paid close attention to my footing, because occasionally exposed tree roots crossed the path. Rushing water resonated in the distance, and a chipmunk chirped in alarm from a nearby tree top. The woods were soothingly peaceful. We walked in comfortable silence for some time. Eventually, we stopped at a flat opening alongside the trail that overlooked a canyon.
He pointed at the base of a tree just off to our right. “See how the ground is sort of smoothed away and there’s a slight impression in the earth, like the forest floor has been disturbed?” I nodded, and he said, “That’s a deer bed.”
“Really?” I said in awe.
“Yes,” he spoke quietly. “Deer quite often use the same beds; it’s possible one was here just now but heard us coming and quickly left the area. They like to bed down alongside a trail, in a place they can easily spot danger. This ridge above the creek here offers a perfect vantage point.”
“Do you see a lot of deer while you’re out hiking in the woods?” I asked curiously.
He nodded. “More often than you’d think.” He unzipped his backpack and opened a water bottle, offering me first drink. I had my own in my pack, but his looked inviting, so I accepted. After handing it back to him, I watched him gulp down half the bottle before he said, “I’ve seen a lot of Black-tail deer in the area.”
“What other animals have you seen around here?”
Giving me a subdued expression, he said, “Before I answer, you have to promise not to go ballistic,” he shook his finger at me, “and remember, I’ve traveled far off the beaten path.”
“Oh Crap! Not mountain lions, I hope,” I blurted out, suddenly on alert.
He nodded and put his arms through his backpack straps, “Yes, I ran across a cougar a couple years ago, but I have no big story to tell. He just turned and went the other way.” I must have looked ready to run for the car, because he said, “No worries, very unlikely we’ll see anything like that in the middle of the day, especially with all the noise we’re making.”
Changing the subject, he talked about mountain goats he’d spotted on ridges and then excitedly described a black bear he’d once seen plowing through a blueberry patch. I listened and tried to calm my nerves. There was no way my snapshots were pointing to this day. I felt no sense of danger, and I wasn’t alone in the woods. Also, there had been no creek or waterfall in my snapshots. Reassured, I took a deep breath and said, “Let’s find this waterfall.”
We started down a mildly steep ravine. Bracing our feet and grabbing onto vine maple branches for support, we half walked and half slid on our rear ends down the loose bank. Once down, we had no solid ground to walk on, so we stepped into the crystal clear water.
“Yikes! This is cold,” I squealed.
“You’ll get used to it.” He laughed and pointed up the creek. I stopped and stared in awe. Less than a quarter mile upstream, reflecting a rainbow in the spraying mist, was our waterfall. Only a small portion was visible, like a teaser beckoning us. Between us and the waterfall, the creek flowed swiftly through an obstructed canyon. Rapids dominated the ravine, surging over fallen trees, rotting logs, huge boulders, and piles of debris. A natural obstacle course lay between us and the waterfall. Our endurance and climbing abilities would soon be tested. If we succeeded we’d be rewarded by reaching the base of the falls. Feeling Jason’s gaze upon me, I turned his way with wide eyes.
“Awesome, huh?” he beamed. “Think you can handle it?”
“I’m not turning back now, are you kidding?” I said with rapture.
With a nod of approval, he took the lead. From behind I admired his athletic body. As he scrambled over slippery rocks and walked swiftly along moss-covered logs, he did so with amazing agility and balance. I found myself grateful to be following in his wake. Not only did he guide me on a safer route with his sure feet, but with me bringing up the rear, he wasn’t able to witness my clumsy ascent. Besides, I was enjoying two views: earth’s magnificent waterfall and man’s magnificent body.
After a bit, he stopped on a patchy gravel bar at the edge of the stream and waited while I caught up. We were in a secluded area of the creek, and even though we could hear the mighty wat
ers crashing above us, a huge log jam blocked our view of the falls. Directly behind Jason, a mass of spiny ferns protruded from the bank, intermingling with the airy, delicate leaves of vine maples. As I stepped even closer, my eyes widened in wonder at the plump orange berries hanging over the bank’s edge. They just looked like they were begging to be plucked.
“Are they edible?” I asked.
He gave me a funny look. “Don’t you know a salmonberry when you see one?”
I reddened. “Well yes, I mean no, but I’ve read about them,” I said with defeat. “They’re huge. They look like over-sized raspberries. Well, they would if they were red,” I amended, hardly containing my excitement as he reached above his head and selected the largest ones.
Bringing down a handful, he said, “Open your mouth.”
I parted my lips, and he dropped one into my mouth. Slowly, I chewed the ripe fruit, savoring the sweet, juicy sensations. He watched me intently, never breaking eye contact. I was mesmerized by his close proximity and his bewitching eyes. Even after I’d finished chewing and swallowed, I found I couldn’t look away from him. Finally, his lips parted into a slow smile, and he popped a couple berries into his own mouth.
“We found these at the peak of perfection,” he said hoarsely. “Sweet with only a touch of tartness.” He emptied the rest into my hand and reached up to pick a few more.
“They’re soooo good,” I said.
He turned around and laughed. “Well, you have something in common with the hummingbirds; these are a favorite of theirs as well.” He handed me a few more and said, “Okay, let’s keep going.”
We scaled a few more huge boulders and crawled over a couple wobbly logs. After several failed attempts, we finally crawled up and over the biggest log jam of all. With the waterfall uproariously loud, I knew we were almost there. As we made our way up one monstrous slab of rock, I was unable to find a foothold and started sliding backwards. Slapping the rock in frustration, I swore to myself. I thought I heard Jason shouting my name, so I looked up.
Clinging effortlessly to the side of the slippery rock, with the same dexterity Spiderman uses when scaling skyscrapers, his expression was one of sheer amusement. He looked like he’d been chuckling to himself, but he didn’t laugh aloud. Graciously, he reached down and called out, “Grab my arm; I’ll pull you up.”
A moment later we found ourselves standing at the base of the thunderous Sholes Falls. We looked at each other and exchanged huge grins before he pointed upwards. I gasped and gazed with pure delight at the beautiful white water streaming down over textured, brown rock cliffs. The cliffs were enhanced by vivid green moss, growing in thick clumps throughout the crevices of the sheer surface. The vibrant moss looked soft and spongy against the sheen precipice. The grace and beauty of the showering white falls captured my soul.
After plunging gracefully from high above, the water crashed and bounced wildly into a giant pool, splashing in different directions with optimal force. The waterfall raged in my ears. Sprinkling my arms, legs, and face in a scattered frenzy, tiny droplets tickled my skin and revitalized my senses. Rocks and small pebbles sparkled like diamonds, while ferns and other greenery glistened like emeralds in the fine mist that embellished the basin.
Jason stepped closer and said loudly over the roar, “There’s something magical about encountering nature’s voice in a magnificent waterfall.”
I leaned in close to his ear. “It’s breathtaking. It’s like a well-kept secret hidden away from the rest of the world, and once you find it, you don’t want anyone else to know about it.”
“Well maybe one other person,” he said with a meaningful look.
I smiled, bit my lower lip, and mouthed, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I could stare at the falls for hours and never get bored.”
“Yeah, it has that mesmerizing effect.”
“The deep, green pool is beautiful,” I said. “I’d love to just jump in and play, like a little kid without a care in the world.”
“We’ll do it sometime,” he promised. Then he grabbed my backpack and set both our packs on a dry boulder several feet away. On his way back he bent down and reached into the shallows of the pool. “Check out this cool rock,” he called out. Holding it up to the light, he said, “Looks like quartz.”
While he was talking, I spotted something sparkling under the pristine surface. I dipped my hand into the chilly water and pulled out a rough, jagged rock. Smiling to myself, I approached him. He was completely absorbed, digging around in the rocks. I nudged him with my elbow and said, “How ‘bout this one?”
He opened his hand, and I placed it in his palm. “Nice,” he said. “I like how it’s two sided. One side dark and mysterious with tiny glimmers of hope, and the other side light and pure with obvious beauty.” Rolling it around in his hand, he looked up and said, “Definitely a keeper.” With a grin, he stuck it in his pocket.
“Hey,” I cried out.
“What?” he asked innocently. “You handed it to me. You’re not gonna take a gift back, are you?”
I shook my head, made a face, and said, “Your audacity astounds me.” He seemed to like that comment, so I waved him away and searched some more. For awhile, we tried to outdo each other by finding the most unique rocks. Like children, we couldn’t resist picking up larger stones and throwing them into the pool, watching them “ker-plunk” before disappearing into the depths. Eventually though, he determined we should head back down so we’d have plenty of time to catch up with the Nelson siblings and Laci.
After a final, wistful look at Sholes Creek Falls, we turned and clambered back down the gargantuan boulder and into the masses of fallen logs. For the most part, the hike down was much of the same, only more treacherous. I slipped a couple times and managed to get my shorts fairly wet, but Jason bribed me with more salmonberries around every turn.
At one point he stopped and pointed at what he termed “the perfect fishing hole.” The current ran gently through a quiet, little tide pool off to the side of the creek. “Fish are probably hiding over in that corner. That collapsed tree offers great cover for them,” he said.
“What kind of fish are you talking about, and how big?”
His eyes lit up. “This creek would have small trout, maybe six to eight inches.” He scratched his chin. “Not very big really, but fun to catch.”
I teased him. “You’re obviously overwrought with knowledge. Wouldn’t be surprised if you could build a fishing pole out of a long, thin branch and a fern.” He rolled his eyes and chuckled. I continued, “Yeah, something tells me you could survive out here for weeks in the dead of winter. Don’t suppose you carry a hatchet in that backpack of yours,” I added with mirth.
“Ah ha,” he mused. “You’re familiar with Gary Paulsen?” As I nodded, he said, “I like a woman whose well read and comes with a sense of humor.”
Looking at him with uncertainty, I said, “My dad did read aloud to me and my brothers when we were little – even when we were older,” I admitted.
“I’d like to meet him sometime.” He looked at me with unwavering eyes. “Your mom and brothers too.”
Suddenly shy, I said, “I’d like that.”
Reaching over, he pulled a twig out of my hair. His eyes penetrated mine, and he said in all seriousness, “Alex, no matter how the rest of this day goes or what you think about me, about all of us by the end of it – I want you to know I really enjoyed being with you today.” Speechless, I stared at him as he continued talking. “I like your sense of humor, your curiosity, your optimism, and the way you draw upon things you’ve read and bring them into your life.”
By now I’d gone completely still. I figured my face was brighter than if it had been sunburned, because I could feel the heat scorching my cheeks. I looked down into the quiet pool. “Umm…”
“Alex, look at me,” he insisted. “I’m not trying to embarrass you. I just want to be honest, for once.” Hesitantly, I rais
ed my eyes and gave him a slight nod. “Better,” he continued. “Mostly, I appreciate how you let me be myself.”
I was tongue-tied. He’d never been so openly forthright. Knowing I couldn’t say any words as meaningful as his, I smiled and whispered, “Thanks.”
He nodded, but his smile seemed almost melancholy. He tapped his watch. “Let’s get going. This is where we leave the creek and head back through the forest. We should be back to the truck in about 20 minutes.”
We’d been hiking in peaceful silence for about five minutes when I thought I heard voices. I was completely surprised since we weren’t on a main trail. In fact, we weren’t on any designated trail at all. “Jason? Did you hear someone talking?” I asked, accidentally bumping into him.
He’d stopped and was standing absolutely still, like a statue. His arms were out in a defensive position, and he looked ready to execute a few Jiu-Jitsu moves. Every muscle in his body appeared tense, and the veins on the side of his neck pulsated. He never answered me, just turned and put a finger over his lips.
We stood there not moving for about a minute. I strained as hard as I could to hear a voice, or footsteps, or some kind of rustling in the trees but heard nothing. The woods were eerily silent. I had no idea why he was acting so strangely, but since he’d proven to be an experienced outdoorsman, I followed his lead without question. Something was definitely wrong, and I had reason to be concerned.
Suddenly, he whipped around with his finger still upon his lips, grabbed my arm forcefully, and pulled me the other way. Eventually, he hauled me to the far side of a thick, Douglas fir tree. I had the distinct feeling he was trying to hide me. He pulled his hands away and shook them with frustration. Then he wrapped his arms around me, without really touching me, and placed the palms of his hands against the bark of the tree. He encircled me like I was in his protection.
Amethyst - Book One of the Guardian Series Page 20