The Power of Return Visits, with Others
How to observe and not only reflect
One of our adult children is visiting. This occasion sharpens my senses. We moved here years after he left home, so during his visits, much of what we share is new to him. That allows us a chance to see our still-newish home through fresh eyes. And seeing things with others, I’ve discovered, changes how I see them.
Because our spring weekend was as lovely as we’ve seen this year, we headed into the foothills not far away to get a sense of big trees, tall slopes, and peaceful lakes. The trip was to Baker Lake, which is a repeat of an earlier field trip. But for The Field Trip this time around, I’m reflecting on different things, including the value of repeated reflection and observation with others. Read on!
Driving through Changing Forests
Getting from the Salish Sea through the farmland into the foothills does not take long, but the transition from cropland to forests requires some shifting of frames.
As we headed off the main highway toward our destination, we passed through small parcels of private land, small farms and homesites. Then, we made our way through timberland controlled by either the state Department of Natural Resources or a timber company.
We saw a fair amount of logging near the road. Slash piles marked the aftermath of cutting. On at least one section, this debris had been piled in something that resembled a windrow that I recalled from countless summers making hay before I left home. In those earlier days, the treatment of logged landscapes seemed far more haphazard. I do not recall logging debris piled neatly from my childhood.
The company that owns this land is Sierra Pacific Industries. Its website touts sustainable practices and how much carbon it has sequestered since 1990. On a trailer I passed on the highway a day later, advertising stated: “Innovation drives us. What drives you?” The company’s approach to forestry, according to its website, mimics “natural forest events.” Mimicry only goes so far. I’ve never noticed blowdowns that resemble windrows on unmanaged lands. Nevertheless, the company’s emphasis on sustainability and stewardship indicates that public relations differs from decades past.
Once the road we traveled crossed into Mt. Baker-Snoqualmie National Forest, there were no more signs of recent logging, although that forest certainly has seen industrial-scale logging during its history.
To stretch our legs, we took a quick walk through a short Forest Service interpretive trail. Snow in patches and flat ferns alongside the trail reminded us that the air temperature might be pushing toward 70 but in these woods, winter is still nearby. The difference between March and June, even in a coniferous forest, is significant—an argument that return trips, through the seasons, helps sharpen observation (a skill a writer can never stop honing).
Reflecting by the Lake
We drove to the last campground on the road, still-closed but available for a walk to the lakeshore.
Baker Lake, enlarged by Upper Baker Dam, is surrounded by treed hillsides and mountains in the background. Along the way, we saw people camping for the first time of the year in undeveloped sites beside the road.
We had the beach to ourselves near the head of the lake. Near one bend in the road we saw stumps, dozens and dozens of them, signs of when Puget Sound Energy built the dam and logging occurred before the water filled up the basin higher.
As is my way, I imagined what this place looked like earlier; however, I did that less than I normally do. Perhaps that was because my accompanying family do not see the landscape so much that way, seeing what is more than what was. Because it was new to them, I tried to see it like they might. Do they find the view pretty? Is the mountain sound peaceful to them? Is it enough to warrant the drive and time invested to visit?
I was not aware of this until I sat down to write and thought back on the moments there. Having companions changed my way of perceiving or observing on this afternoon. I take most of these field trips alone where I am typically in my own head, thinking my own thoughts, fed by all my earlier thoughts and obsessions. The presence of others jumbled this process somewhat.
Where we stopped, a single, large stump lay mostly submerged, just its flat base above lake level, looking like a table, a place for fellowship.
Across the lake, campfire smoke drifted low across the water while the sound of water echoed against the hills. Consulting a map, we concluded that we were hearing the aptly named Noisy Creek. (And if we weren’t, we were satisfied with our conclusion because it’s a better story than the also-nearby Silver Creek or Hidden Creek.)
The Volcano Looms
Mount Baker hangs over Northwest Washington, but often we cannot see it, even on sunny days. But it stood out this time.
Recently I investigated the recovery of forests after Mount St. Helens erupted in 1980, so volcanoes and their power took up much of my mind space. A quick stop at a turn in the road where it crosses Boulder Creek made thinking about eruptions and mudslides and disaster inescapable.
Boulder Creek pours off Mount Baker’s glaciers. Its wide path through the forest view from near its outlet into the lake—or even better, from aerial photos—demonstrates how much force and power this drainage (semi)contains even without an eruption. What would happen here if Baker erupted?
The statistics I learned from my Mount St. Helens research, still fresh in my head, staggered me. A river covered by debris for 12 miles at an average depth of 150 feet; a lake’s 50 billion gallons of water entirely displaced; mudslides moving at 225 feet per second; 4.7 billion board feet vaporized or killed across more than 85,000 acres. These figures are beyond my mind’s ability to adequately comprehend.
But as I stood there, looking upstream at the white, bulky (dormant Correction: it is active—see comment below from a reader) volcano, I tried to comprehend. Shuddering, I had to think of safer things.
Perceiving and Observing
This spring primer got me out of the house, always an important component of The Field Trip. It also had me thinking about slightly different things from my last visit here, a reminder that revisiting places—and doing so with other people—can unlock new perceptions. As seasons change and circumstances do, we see things differently. So does different company.
I have quoted John Burroughs before (here and here). I do so again:
Power of attention and a mind sensitive to outward objects, in these lies the secret of seeing things. Can you bring all your faculties to the front, like a house with many faces at the doors and windows; or do you live retired within yourself, shut up in your own meditations? The thinker puts all the powers of his mind in reflection: the observer puts all the powers of his mind in perception; every faculty is directed outward; the whole mind sees through the eye and hears through the ear. He has an objective turn of mind as opposed to a subjective. A person with the latter turn of mind sees little. If you are occupied with your own thoughts, you may go through a museum of curiosities and observe nothing.
I naturally tend toward the reflective. It serves me well in many circumstances. But it fails me, too, allowing me often to see the same thing, which may, too often, be a reflection of what’s in my mind.
Cues to observe and perceive can be return trips or bringing along companions. As we retraced the Skagit River downstream, I tried to remember these differences.
Closing Words
Relevant Reruns
Don’t miss my interview with Joe Wilkins. My initial report on Baker Lake is here. I’ve shared this essay before, but “Submerged Stories, Breaching History” is one of the best examples of how I see the past in the landscape in front of me. I think it includes both reflection and observation.
New Writing
I’m working on some other stories that should appear soon.
As always, you can find my books, and books where some of my work is included, at my Bookshop affiliate page (where, if you order, I get a small benefit).
Taking Bearings Next Week
I’m going back to The Library next week. What I’m reading for that isn’t clear yet. Stay tuned!
Oh, my --- a minor (but maybe not so minor correction): Mt. Baker isn't considered dormant. It's active, as you can see from the south side looking into the crater where a group of fumaroles routinely send up steam clouds laced with sulfur. None of the Cascade volcanoes in WA are considered dormant, actually. They all show evidence of recent (geologically speaking) eruptive activity, to easily qualify them as active. Baker last erupted in the mid-19th century. So they all are significant geo-hazards. Baker's biggest threat would be a big mudslide (lahar) off it's E slope which goes directly down into Baker Lake. A lahar there would likely displace the water in Baker Lake and send it roaring down into Shannon Lake which would then roar down and obliterate Concrete, and wipe out much of what is now built in the Skagit Valley as if filled the entire channel of the Skagit River and fanned out across the delta. Glacier Peak's lahar deposits go as far as Sedro-Woolley, for another scary thought! Dorme vu?