STRAIGHT FROM THE HEART
A Mountain Homecoming
An Inspired Return to Mt Hood
Over 11 hours ago, I had taken over the driving. It was dry and clear then, a stark contrast to the sleet and dark that I pressed the van through now, rounding Mt Hood from the east. Surely I could have stopped a while ago. Of the 3 others curled up in the van, I had the right to wake someone up and trade places.
I could say it was the cheap gas station cappuccinos, or the cold air flushing my face from the open driver's side window. But when you get down to it, neither was the root of my determination.
It was the smell of the cabin I've known intimately over the last 2 years. It was the feel of the air on my skin while walking the neighborhood where it stood. It was the memories of my time there that each wall in the cabin, tree in the driveway, and trail out back offered to share.
I was almost home. And that's why I pressed on.
We rolled into Govy in the wee hours and the familiar low hanging fog occupied its regular nooks, much like the locals do at Charlie's bar downtown. Being too late to join them, I directed the bedroom on wheels up the steep and narrow drive towards the backside of town.
Easing off the pavement onto the gravel by the front door, I heard the crunching sound of every gravel road I've ever been on. But still I recognized this one as I would a familiar handshake. As we came to a stop and I turned off the ignition, the entire van was still. Of course they were still sleeping, but I was absorbing.
Sitting there in the pitch black I got the full aroma and freshness of The Mountain. It filled the van suddenly and I was wide-awake to this flavor. No longer was it whipping by me on the highway, letting only bits and pieces reach my senses. I welcomed its full potential.
Homecomings always give me that same feeling as when a warm quilt is wrapped around your shoulders on a brisk day. They warm my soul and ease my mind.
I have stumbled onto a number of homes in my travels, not because I wanted to but because I was willing to. My place here is the latest example of this and regardless of where I might call home years from now, I will always return to Mt Hood with the same eagerness and anticipation of what my time so far has provided.
It isn't necessarily the four walls and front door of the cabin I most consider home. More so, it's dipping my paddle into the glassy waters of Timothy Lake. It's driving my axe blade into that wedge of fir on a rhythm. It's counting the snowflakes as they fall on my fresh ski tracks. And right now, it's cupping that warm mug of hot cider while I stride through the woods with my pup.
As seasons go, autumn is special and thus one of my favorites to come home to. The colors are magnificent, the temperatures are energy inducing, and the smells are lively. These are all reasons why I love it here on The Mountain, this time of year especially.
When we eventually made it out of the van our adrenaline of arrival kept us up until predawn. That night was a reunion of friends in a place reminiscent of many gatherings from our past. National Forest running up the flanks of Mt Hood, crisp air, and the beautiful feeling from our surroundings made us all feel at home.
By Luke Will; Photos courtesy of Luke Will
October/November 2008
