Monday, March 3, 2008

No Stress


Considering the wired, in-touch, almost-always-working lives we live these days, I suppose most of us have something we do to relieve stress. We sit down with a good book and read, or we cook a nice meal. Some folks veg-out in front of a television, while others go shopping. My wife Leah likes to garden.

Here in the Seattle area where I live, lots of people take sailboats out on Puget Sound and they claim there is peace to be found on the cold, windy water. There are other outdoorsy types around here who go hiking (I am one of those.) Judging by the overcrowded parking areas at some of our local trailheads (those would be trails where I, as an avoider of crowds, would tend not to hike) every-freaking-body who lives here owns hiking boots.

Only once have I met a Seattleite who defiantly claimed she was a non-hiker. Pam was a young reporter at the Seattle newspaper where I worked as a photographer. I vividly remember one day when we were on our way to an assignment and I told Pam what a great hike I’d done the past weekend with my friends. Pam’s snooty, anti-hiking declaration was: “I don’t put things on my back and go walking!”

For three days this past week, Leah and I entertained a friend from out of town who recently graduated from law school. Our friend was here taking the Washington State Bar Exam and, when the pressure-filled test was over, she had one simple request: “Take me to Mt. Rainier!” she said. “I need mountains!”

We threw snowshoes and day packs into the car. We drove up and up and up, parking the car and beginning our hike at an elevation of five thousand feet. We headed for a ridge high above the car, where I’d been before and knew the views would be amazing. I let my friend break trail. She’s younger than I am; plus she had that Bar Exam Angst to burn off. I took pictures as she snowshoed into the distance.

At the end of the day, my friend and I laughed that, yes, we could have gone shopping or watched television, but we were happy we’d put things on our backs (and our feet) and chosen to go walking.