I watched the movie Wild last night and I thought a lot about the few times that I've been hiking now that I'm on the west coast. The first amazing hike was in Oakland in a Redwood forest and I cried because I couldn't believe it was my life and I was so overwhelmed with the fact that I was moving across the country by myself.
My first hike here in the Pacific Northwest was a short hike out to Dry Creek Falls. It falls along a section of the Pacific Crest Trail. In the short few hours I spent out on the trail I found that there was a certain magic that comes along with being alone in the wilderness. It's quiet and yet also loud, it's slightly scary and so so amazing. Your thoughts become one broken fragment melted into the next. I distinctly remember looking up at the trees above me and feeling so small. Dwarfed by the living logs that are triple my age. It was misty and the ground was squishy. I found myself noticing the smallest of sounds and wondering if there was anyone else out there.