My husband Nick and I are sitting indoors, reading. We're inside because the air outdoors is filthy. The Bolt Creek forest fire is out of control and the smoke is flowing down the mountains into the Puget Sound basin. Right now, the news reports that we have the worst air quality in the world. Take that, China.
“Hey Nick,” I say, interrupting his reading. “I have a great idea. Want to hear it?”
“What is it, Laine?” he asked, raising his eyebrow, but not putting his book down.
“Let's get out of this foul air. How about we go on a hike Saturday? The forecast predicts rain the following weekend, and you know, this time of year, once it starts raining it keeps on for six months. Let's go Saturday.”
“Sounds great. You have somewhere in mind?”
“Well, I'm thinking we go back to Camp Brown. Remember how well designed the trail is for wheelchairs, and how much we enjoyed it last spring?”
“All right. Sounds good. Do you want to invite anyone to go with us?”
“Sure, I'll go send some emails right now.”
Following a flurry of email exchanges, we have a plan. “Okay, here's what's happening. Rob and Sandy are going with us. I told Rob he wouldn't be able to find Camp Brown on Google Maps, but he tried anyway. He doesn't think my directions are very good, so he wants to follow us. We'll meet them at the park&ride Saturday at eleven.”
“Just the two of them?” Nick asks, not sounding very enthusiastic.
“Yes, just the two of them. At this late date they are the only ones who can make it. The smog is really bothering Sandy and I said the air might be cleaner up there.”
Saturday dawns even smokier so we are happy to be leaving town. Nick and I swing by the park&ride and Rob and Sandy pull in behind. Thirty minutes later it's still smoky as we leave the interstate. “Oh, man, I sure hope we get out of this smog,” I say to Nick, feeling like I'm breaking a promise to the others.
“We're not there yet. There's still a chance.” Nick is trying to make me feel better.
As we pass the last few houses the road enters the forest and casually follows the Middle Fork of the Snoqualmie River. Soon, the road is twisting and swooping like a swallow hungrily chasing a meal.
“Why are you driving so slow?” Nick asks.
“Just keeping Rob in sight. He's a city boy, you know. Not used to these twisty roads. Besides, it lets me enjoy the scenery.”
At the Camp Brown sign we pull in and park side by side because we are the only ones here. The sky is a clear blue. I take an experimental sniff of air and then inhale deeply, filling my lungs as full as possible. After a noisy exhale and a couple more breaths to clean the smog out I exclaim, “Oh my god, I love the smell of mountain air.”
“It's so wonderful to be out of the smoke,” Sandy says.
“I love the smell of the forest,” says Nick.
“Douglas fir, with just a hint of pine.”
“The sweet scent of cedar.”
“Okay, okay,” Rob says. “It smells good, and Sandy isn't coughing.”
Head tilted back, sniffing the air like a wild animal, I say, “I don't know why, but just the smell of the outdoors makes me feel better.”
“It's so true,” Sandy agrees.
As we chat we are preparing for the hike. “Everyone, be sure your food is sealed,” Nick says. “The campground up the road is closed due to bears. I know you couldn't miss seeing the sign in the middle of the road, saying all camping is prohibited.”
“Bears? You didn't mention bears. Is it safe? Should we go back?” Rob asks.
I calmly reassure him that the chance of seeing a bear is extremely slim to nonexistent. Fortunately, Rob can't see Nick rolling his eyes.
“All ready?” Nick asks. Getting nods from everyone, he pivots his wheelchair around and heads for the woods.
“You guys are going to love this,” I say encouragingly.
“Is it really barrier free?” Sandy asks tentatively.
“Yeah, we've been told that before and it never is,” Rob says.
“Not by me, you haven't. Trust me, this trail has my seal of approval.” I step behind Nick and Sandy slowly maneuvers her chair in behind me. With a dubious look on his face Rob brings up the rear.
Leaving the brash concrete parking lot, we enter the beckoning forest and our world changes in obvious and subtle ways. The light is verdant and as I look up through the branches the sky appears covered with fine lace. The trail welcomes my feet, a slight give cushioning every step. Sounds are quieter, our voices slightly muted as the soft surfaces surrounding us absorb the energy. Tension ebbs from my mind and body as the peaceful woods welcome me back.
We move quietly, pausing frequently to appreciate the small wonders around us. “Look at the color of those shield fungus. They look like fat little rainbows hanging on the tree.” “Look at the clump of moss covering the dead branch. It looks like a squirrel.” “These ferns as so beautiful, so many curly shades of green. Are the gnomes tending a garden here?” The richness of the understory rivals that of the rainforest.
“Laine,” Sandy calls quietly. I turn around and see she and Rob have paused in a ray of sun that is weaving its way through the branches. Sandy's delighted smile invites me to take their picture. Rob looks a lot less skeptical than he did when we first arrived.
I'm trying to get a picture of a quick little brown chipmunk when I hear Nick call, “I can hear the river.” And I can hear the pleasure in his voice. I say goodbye to the chipmunk and hurry to catch up. The forest is thinning, and as I round a curve in the trail I can see the bright sunlight on the peaks across the valley. The tree trunks create bold vertical lines framing the bright landscape beyond.
When I catch up with the others, everyone is at the edge of the forest enjoying the view. The river sparkles and splashes as it dances noisily out of the mountains. Movement at the far tree line catches my eye and I hope a deer will step out of the woods for a drink. Or maybe a bear. That would be thrilling.
“This is so beautiful. It's been too long since we camped by a river,” Nick says wistfully.
“Yes,” I agree. “I really miss backpacking. Getting away for days at a time. It takes a lot of planning, but once you step away from civilization life is so much simpler.”
“I really miss hiking above the tree line where you can see row after row of peaks disappearing into the distance,” Nick adds.
“I used to backpack,” Sandy says, surprising us. “But Rob thinks a three-star hotel is roughing it. Don't you Sweetie?”
“True. I never could understand the allure of being wet and dirty and sleeping on the hard, cold ground,” Rob says. “But we used to go hiking. Before... you know. Sorry.”
“Yes, we know,” Nick says. “Don't worry, we understand.”
“Being out here brings back some wonderful memories,” Sandy says.
We stop at every opportunity to enjoy the scenery and reminisce. “Being here today makes me feel so good, so alive again,” Sandy says quietly.
Nick and Rob are discussing the climbing routes on Mt Garfield, which blocks the sky farther up the valley. Rob actually sounds interested and Nick is enjoying talking about old climbs. I finally interrupt. “Hey, everyone, I'm hungry. How about we have lunch soon?” Not wanting to make Rob nervous again I skip a joke about my stomach sounding like a growling bear.
“Great idea. Let's head for the picnic tables,” Sandy says. She gives me a wink as we slip past the guys who are still talking.
A little farther on there are several picnic tables nestled among the trees. They all have one end extended past the benches so a person using a wheelchair can pull right up to the table. Having been here before, I have a specific table in mind. We walk past several sites to pick one which has a lovely view of the river and Mt Garfield in the background. “Okay, this is it, if everyone agrees,” I suggest.
This particular table is well situated so Nick and Sandy can both pull their wheelchairs right up to the table. “This is great,” Nick says. “I really hate having to sit back from the table with a tray in my lap. It makes me feel like an outsider.”
“It really can't cost that much more to build one end just a little longer,” adds Sandy. “I don't know why they don't build all picnic tables with an extension. I really hate it when Rob has to hand me my food like I'm a baby. Or a cripple.”
“Oh, Sandy, don't say that. You know I don't mind helping you.”
“I know Sweetie, but I prefer being able to feed myself. I don't like having to always depend on you.”
“When we were at Sunrise last weekend there wasn't a single table with an extension. And that's a National Park. Pretty abysmal if you ask me,” I say. “And the only reason we could get from the parking lot at Sunrise View Point to see the view was because the curb was broken down. No wheelchair curb cuts at all.” I'm on a roll, but Nick gently interrupts and suggests I help unpack the lunch.
Everyone is hungry and we quickly have the picnic spread before us. We eat and chat, enjoying the scenery and listening to the rushing river. Time passes quickly. The food is gone and the conversation is winding down, but I don't want to leave. All of the little squirrels usually racing around inside my head have escaped into the woods and I feel pleasantly calm and happy.
Nick and I need to be outdoors, hiking in the forest, enjoying the beauty and tranquility. For us it is sustenance. So often we encounter barriers that stop us in our tracks, sometimes before we're even out of the parking lot. This trail is the only one I know designed for people with disabilities. It's smooth, level, wide, perfectly maintained. There are no roots or rocks or steep slopes. No gates or stairs. No obstructions that say, “You are using a wheelchair. You are not welcome here.” The Camp Brown trail welcomes us all.
Not able to put it off any longer we pack up the picnic. “You were right,” Rob says, surprising us. “This trail is amazing. I didn't really believe you, but I'm glad we came. This has been a lot of fun.”
“And I haven't coughed the entire time,” Sandy adds. “Thanks so much for inviting us.”
We are back at the parking lot loading up. Rob helps Sandy maneuver her heavy duty power chair into their van and I fold up Nick's manual chair. Hugs all around and we agree to come back in the spring when the river is raging from the rain and melting snow. This has been a precious day. We are returning to all the frustrations of daily living, but I am ready. My batteries are recharged.
Author: Laura Nicol
Camp Brown Wheelchair Accessible Hike: https://www.wta.org/go-hiking/hikes/camp-brown
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