We Owls aren't in solid physical condition. Coming from interminably flat Florida, and previously living in a single story cinder block home, our thighs didn't even have regular stair climbing in their muscle memory banks. Research becomes an important step to ensure we don't hobble ourselves halfway up some trail, ravens circling above.
Twin Falls Trail marked our first hiking attempt. At only three miles in there-and-back-again distance and 500 feet of elevation change, surely even our woefully neglected bodies could handle the strain. The bright, early autumn day provided encouragement, even as the undulating terrain pointed upward. Our feet flexed against within their newly purchased hiking boot from REI, confidently crunching leaves and scaling roots.
The Snoqualmie River--the South Fork, specifically--ran alongside much of the way. Heavy rain from the weekend saturated the forest and that delightful sound of water lapping white over rocks blotted out most other sound. A lovely day, to be sure.
And a lovely hike, filled with green. Being new to the Pacific Northwest, I am sure we Owls aren't the first travelers to be greenstruck. No surface appears safe from moss and fern and other unknown greeneries. Entire trees, both living and dead, are swallowed by the creeping green life-death. And in those nameless forgotten spots where green doesn't yet reside, you will find other colors. Fungi colors. Whites, yellows, oranges, browns, blacks, grays--life, in all its dampness, beckons us passed.
Hiking during the week typically means deeper quietude. We Owls don't dislike other hikers, but we do find trips more enveloping without other owls flitting about. Conversely, we like to imagine how owls in history might have stood where we stood, looking over a precipice or waterfall, and surveying what lies below. They sought food or shelter, no doubt. Not us. We seek photo opportunities and Twin Falls obliged.
A pleasing, gushing, two-tier set of falls ("cascade" in local parlance). Not so glamorous as nearby Snoqualmie Falls, but perhaps more elegant in its hiddenness. A small bridge spanned the chasm separating upper from lower and Cassandra overcame her innate terror of suspension construction to capture the moment.
Our lungs suffered, as did our calves, but we survived. We conquered an introductory trail and welcomed ourselves into the Northern Cascades range. One tiny tick mark on our chalkboard of sights to see.
