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Tuesday, July 27th, 2004
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3:00 pm - The Valley
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 The valley is why I'm here. I was trans-traversing the Olympic Range, situated between Mount Olympus and the Pacific Ocean, in a south-north arc. I hitched to the Dosewallips River and just started climbing. I purposely emptied my mind and let me inner compass dictate the where, when and how.
When you've existed in a Tunguska gulag prison or endured lock down in an abandoned missile silo in North Dakota, you don't concern yourself with trails or rock cairns. I've always relied on animal instinct. It's saved my hide more times than I can count. But because I'm drawn to knowing nature, I keep my Green Trails topo map in my pack. That's how I learned I was standing in Anderson Pass. I could see glacial ice and felt the cold breeze play with my damp hair.
Breathe. Listen. Merge the inside with the outside.
To my right, 4,000-foot mountain walls. To my left, a small distant high meadow with four Roosevelt elk. Below me, the Enchanted Valley. The topo called it the "valley of 1,000 waterfalls" - and there were indeed waterfalls showering down the 3,000-foot cliffs of the Burke Range.
It was my nirvana. This view became my window for the next six months.
The black spot at the base of the mossy bigleaf maple turned its head and looked while I was still 1/3 mile above, making my way down the trail to the meadow. A yearling black bear. It looked at me, then the maple, then trundled into the denser forest.
A slight ache started in my heart. For a moment, I thought it was the cold, crisp air. Then I felt a long-forgotten tingle in my eyes and nose. With a suddenness that alarmed me, I let out a loud sob. I started shaking all over and the tears felt hot against my face and hands. For a moment, I couldn't breathe. Yet if felt good, cleansing. The release of tension.
For a long time, I cried, sitting in the tall bear grass. Faded images of memories blew through my head like storm clouds, deep sadness gluing them together: my mom and dad, Fox, betrayal, suffering, loneliness, the many kill shots, sewing Dmitri's eyes closed, the loss of my mentor, the well-manicured man, Marita after those terrible tests. All ghosts now that haunted me no matter how lost and alone I tried to get.
I was never alone. I was always alone.
I cried until I was empty.
current music: Gimme Shelter - Stones
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12:10 pm - Shelter among the Spruce
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 I am happy here, this dark green corner of the upper left coast.
The morning smells like Indian Paintbrush. The nights cold, mossy fragrance erases the fragments of dangerous memories. I have always been alone. Here in my solitude, I am the least alone as I have ever been. This natural fortress, the cave, the rock, the spruce and cedar, the valley below - all more crowded than DC, Vancouver, Moscow. Life is all around me and I am fascinated with observing it. I will lay low, like a panther on a rock outcropping, and watch the elk, the ants, even an infrequent mountain climber.
This is what I do best: watch and wait. And time is meaningless because I am a ghost to the world.
current mood:  contemplative
current music: Songbirds
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