Hey, that driveway looks familiar...haven't we seen it somewhere before? Only this time, the sun is shining and the van is pointing the other way. Yeah, yeah! And isn't that Puget Sound in the background there? All the signs are unmistakable -- we're back in Tacoma.
We're back in Tacoma, but it took some doing. It was cold on Mt. Adams in the morning. Real cold. Nobody wanted to get out of bed. Nobody but my bladder, that is. Since my bladder doesn't go anywhere without the rest of me (believe me, I've tried), we all got up together to brave the frozen tundra of the Mt. Adams icescape. Thoroughly awake by this time, I decided that getting back in to Otto's upper bunk would require more effort that I was willing to summon. I considered kicking Marcus out of the lower bunk, but that seemed a little bit rude. I try to be a good uncle, you know. So, I grabbed a book and stayed outside to read, chasing a sunbeam all over the campground and hopping on one foot to stay warm.
A couple hours later, Kristanne and Marcus finally stirred, and we broke the ice chunks out of our milk so that we could have some cereal. Mt. Adams was luminous in the morning sun as we sat down to eat, enjoying the crisp air and the pristine landscape. Come to think of it, "pristine landscape" may be something of an overstatement. Mt. Adams was, indeed, gorgeous, but the surrounding terrain seemed a mite sparse. The reason for this is that pretty much all the National Forest land in Washington is at least second-growth, and in some cases, third or fourth-growth. If you ever have any illusions about National Forests somehow being protected, drive through Gifford Pinchot (or any of the other ones, for that matter). The government has subsidized several generations of loggers with sweetheart timber leases on huge tracts of land there. The result is that it is pretty difficult to go into any backcountry area of Washington without encountering the pits and scars of the lumber industry.
Many have heard the infamous story of President Reagan coming to tour the damage caused by the Mt. St. Helens eruption
back in 1980. During a helicopter ride from Sea-Tac airport to the eruption site,
Reagan looked down at the landscape below and was heard to remark, "My god, it's worse than I thought."
"No sir," came the reply from the pilot. "We're not to the eruption site, yet.
That's a Weyerhaeuser clearcut." Rarely has an area been so blessed with natural wonder as in Washington State.
Rarely, too, have the people of one area so completely betrayed that blessing, cashing it in for short-term
gain instead of nurturing it for the long haul. It makes me sad.
It makes me sad, but I've yet to join Earth First!, spike trees, or pour sugar into a bulldozer's radiator. In fact, the worst thing I've done was to pull out survey stakes when my favorite patch of land as a child was about to be leveled for golf-course condos. So, depending on your point of view, there's either hope for me or I'm an eco-wimp.
Anyway, after breakfast, we headed back down out of the mountains, bound for civilization. Or, at least Federal Way. After lunch in Mt. Rainier National Park (last hurrah for the Golden Eagle pass), we dropped off Marcus at my sister's place and headed down I-5 to Tacoma. There, we met my brother at pretty much the same place we left him -- at the top of my parents' stairs, holding forth on a cell phone. It seemed like we had been gone precisely five minutes as we all piled back into cars to head down to the Swiss Ale House and have a few beers.
And that's where this day ended -- us at the folk's house, getting ready to head north to our final destination. Join us tomorrow as we head up to Seattle, our new home. It's the last day of the Odyssey! We close today with one fond look back at Mt. Adams. See you tomorrow.
Total Miles for 8/30 = 173