By Emily Neelon
I’m consumed in utter darkness. The only things anchoring me to the world is a hand clasping mine, and a headlamp illuminating the stretch of ground in front of me.
I’m sitting on a lava rock, a panoramic view of Mt. St. Helens hidden behind an expanse of scorched trees surrounding me on all sides.
I’m lying in a hammock, the wind threatening to knock down the trees I’m swinging from, the cloudless sky peeking out from the canopy of trees above me.
For the first time in a long time, I’m able to take a deep breath, enjoying the sensation of my lungs filling with fresh air, a sweet, burning sensation spreading from my chest through my entire body.
This past Saturday, I spent the day exploring Mt. St. Helens in Cougar, Washington. I hiked through Ape Cave, a two-mile lava tube located on the south side of the mountain.
At night, I set up camp in the middle of the forest, successfully pitching a tent and avoiding getting eaten by a bear or Big Foot during the night.
The dysfunctionalities of my trip only made it more memorable. At one moment I was crawling on my hands and knees, trapped between the increasingly narrow walls of the cave.
At another moment, I was falling fast to the forest floor, the strap anchoring my hammock to the tree having broken. And in another moment, I was using a Gatorade cap to spread peanut butter onto the slice of bread balanced on my knee, having forgotten to bring utensils, plates and napkins.
My spontaneous camping trip was one of the best adventures I’ve had since moving to the Pacific Northwest. With the sun shining on my face and the breeze brushing against me, I was able to let go of all the worries that flutter through my head like an endless flurry of snow.
My much-needed break from reality gave me clarity, smoothing over my anxieties like a blanket of calm. With the snapshot of a perfect weekend in my mind’s eye, I feel ready to take on whatever life throws at me, one moment at a time.
