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Oliver Preus 8/6/23 Oliver Preus 8/6/23

The Canyon Run: Part III

All night I tossed and turned as I tried to sleep in the driver’s seat of my truck. My horrible decision to try this way of sleeping for the night proved to be a terrible one. While you might think I could’ve just hopped in the backseat, which is where I had slept before, it was not that easy. Gear had to be shuffled all around the truck for that to happen, and with it being around 18 and icy outside (essentially within the truck too), I had no desire to emerge from my sleeping bag to rearrange everything.

Some bit of sleep found me somehow in the night, but it was not much. I peeled myself out of my sleeping bag to see the light of this new world, and what a new world it was! The sun shined through the spruces bright and beautiful as its light shimmered in the snow. Once I got up, I did not even care that I barely slept. I was so excited to explore the park, I basically dragged Lucy out of her nest and into the cold morning air and snow. She realized how much she loved the snow. There were so many new things to sniff in this weird place she found herself in.

I fired up the Coleman stove and cooked up some sausage and eggs as Lucy ate her breakfast inside the truck. Ravens, intelligent nuisances around the park, gathered around perching on large mounds of snow in hopes of stealing a snack or treasure. They are notorious for stealing food, trash, or gear from campsites. Despite their best efforts, I managed to deter them from collecting anything of my own. Once I had my fill of breakfast, it was time to see the star of the show. I was oddly nervous - as If I were going on a first date or meeting a celebrity. Afterall, I had wanted to see this place nearly my entire life.

There was no itinerary for the day, so the first overlook I saw a sign to would lead me to my first glimpse. I did not care which one it was. Yavapai Point was the lucky winner. From the parking lot I could see a sliver of the North Rim. The lush green forest glistened with snow. The bitter cold wind gusted, and I felt giddy as Lucy and I walked up the pathway to finally see it - The Grand Canyon. We had really made it!

As we carefully walked up to the icy ledge of the canyon, a huge gust of wind roared up the wall blasting snow and ice right into my face. An incredible welcome! I stood there for a few minutes trying to comprehend what was in front of me and the journey that led me there. I’ve taken several adventures in the past few years, but nothing as unequivocally illogical (for me) and grueling as this journey. Lucy pulled me down the icy path as if she were a sled dog, even though she’s only thirty pounds. There was a small amphitheater area along the trail. I had to sit down for a few moments to absorb everything again. You’d be hard pressed to find another amphitheater with a view quite like that! Whomever designed that should be very proud of themself.

Gnarly
35mm Fujifilm Superia 400 - Canon AE1

We walked the trail for quite a while, stopping frequently to take photos for myself and for other park visitors. I’d be curious to know how many times over the years I have taken photos for strangers in national parks and other tourist destinations. Maybe it’s a photographer thing, but I rarely ever ask someone to take my photo, even in incredible places like the Grand Canyon. However, I gathered the will to ask a group of people from Georgia. They were more than happy to take a photo of Lucy and me. Luckily, there was at least one decent one without my eyes closed or a horrible glare of sun light. It’s funny how some people take photos versus others.

After meandering along the trail for a bit, we headed back to camp as one more gust of wind blew up the side of the canyon to push us along. I decided to try and borrow a snow shovel from the site office to shovel out my camp site – that was useless. It was so cold; the snow had frozen again after melting. It was essentially twelve inches of ice, and this Mississippi boy was not about to spend his one full day in the Grand Canyon, shoveling ice and snow. On that note, it was time to cook up some burgers for lunch. I nearly caught myself and my truck on fire, but they turned out surprisingly good!

I wanted to take a nap after eating so much, but I had more exploring to do. Lucy and I took a cruise for a bit. We passed very closely to some mule deer and a few snoozing elk – all close enough to capture some photos of and admire them for a moment. It was ironic though that the times I saw the most deer and elk was near the parts of the park with the most people.

Lucy and I stopped in the visitor’s center then walked to Mather Point. Everyone we encountered was a new friend to her. It made me glad that I brought her to see the smiles on peoples’ faces when they saw her and give her pets. It made her happy too! As we made it down to Mather Point, it was surprising to see how many people were out there, braving the cold and slippery rocks to take a photo of themselves. “When in Rome”, I thought, and followed the modern tourist protocol.

Mather Point People
35mm Fujifilm Superia 400 - Canon AE1

The sun had begun its decent in the sky so I sought advice from a park ranger as to where the best place to watch the sunset would be. She told me, pretty much anywhere. However, she mentioned Hermit’s Rest as a good spot, which was a good way down the road. I made a sandwich in the parking lot, scarfed it down, and off we went. On the way there, I noticed a spot called “The Abyss”. It looked like a great spot to park and watch the sunset in some warmth, but we continued. When we got to Hermits Rest, the road to the trail head was closed to private vehicles. I was not exactly thrilled with the idea of lugging a bunch of camera gear and Lucy down there on foot. We hopped in the truck and backtracked, looking for the spot I had seen earlier. By the time we got there, a few others had the same idea in mind.

Carved
35mm Fujifilm Superia 400 - Canon AE1

I parked the truck and got out to walk around and inspect. A guy I noticed that had parked next to me, had walked up the road a bit. I watched as he walked out on the cliff. I curiously took some photos of him and thought, “I cannot watch this man die if he falls”, so I turned away and focused on the scenery. Luckily, he did not fall and made his way back to his car and left. It was a little strange to see when I think about it.

Lucy joined me and we sat on the wall of the overlook watching the sun sink below the horizon. A man and his dog watching a sunset in one of the most beautiful places in the world. It felt like something out of a movie. (Side note: If for some reason someone makes a movie about my life, that needs to be part of it.) I did my best to capture the moments of the fading sunlight painting the walls of the canyon with its last splashes of gold. For a while, though, I simply had to take in the scene without looking through my viewfinder. Pretty soon the light drained into the Colorado River leaving its fading remnants to be overtaken by the cold dark night. I began to think about the journey back home and how badly I wanted to stay longer. One day - that is all the time I had to see one of Earth’s most treasured natural wonders. I drove Lucy and I back to camp, nearly sick with the thought of leaving.

The Last Light
35mm Fujifilm Superia 400 - Canon AE1

At the camp site, I made a fire and sipped on some whiskey to keep me warm as I roasted some hot dogs. This was a true camp dinner if there ever was one. Lucy snoozed in her warm nest after having her own grub. She had no interest in sitting out in the cold past her bedtime with me. I sat in the dark as the fire light danced off the snow. Writing in my journal out there, I felt very alone despite others camping nearby. They were all cozy in their cars and RVs, but I needed to sit there and be present in that moment - to be cold and feel the gravity of the experience I was within. Tired and wary, I made sure to shuffle things around in the truck to prepare for our departure and my sleeping arrangement. I would not make the mistake of trying to sleep up front ever again. As a bright full moon shined into my truck, I drifted off to sleep, praying our trip home would go smoothly.

Oliver Preus 4/25/23 Oliver Preus 4/25/23

The Canyon Run: Part II

Everything that was a necessity, we had. All that stood between us, was 673 miles of road and a rugged landscape of red earth. We were already beyond halfway to The Grand Canyon. There was no sense in turning back now. Onward.

The sun was up before me as usual, but my sleeping bag would not let me get up at the same time. I fought it away and pulled on my freezing cold clothes to get breakfast going. I had to be swift. Lucy got her walk, and I got my food before hopping into a not-so-warm shower (thanks to the fellow in the shower stall next to me). Lucy would not touch her food. I was growing concerned, but I knew she was not a big fan of that specific kind. I would make sure to get something for her at some point, but I was still worried it was something else. The sky was nearly overcast as I got everything packed up in the truck. I made a final pass to double check, then we headed out to make our slow drive up the canyon and venture WEST.

The Last View of Palo Duro
35mm Fujifilm Superia 200 - Canon AE1

On the way out of the park, I had to stop a couple of times and admire the view from up top. It was not visible when I entered the canyon at 3am the day before so I had only those few moments to soak up that view. I made sure to document it in 35mm. It will not be forgotten.

North first, through Amarillo. I stopped at the pet store to see if I could get extra warm clothes for the pooch, but none were available. I still bought food and snacks for the precious beast. One day I will have to write about her, but I digress.

As we neared the border of Texas on I-40, we reached a pass that seemed to open as if it were a gateway to the Wild West. We descended into a land of vast emptiness that was oddly beautiful. Once again, my attempts to capture the moment on my iPhone only yielded poor results. But I had to try. We soon entered New Mexico. I hear it’s just like Old Mexico, but I can neither confirm nor deny. Mesa landforms littered the horizon. Some were close enough to see their towering structure looming above the highway. It was difficult to keep my eyes on the road as I was glued to scenery of the red rocks sprinkled with snow.

Somewhere in Northwest Texas
Shot on iPhone 13

The odometer spun wildly as the miles passed. At one point I noticed there were no cars passing on the other side of the interstate. It was somewhat eerie to see an empty stretch of road. Miles later, the reason made itself known as an overturned 18-wheeler on the other side of the median had essentially blocked all traffic on that side. The rubbernecking on our side of the highway was beginning once I was close enough to see the issue. Traffic was backed up for miles. I felt terrible for the driver of the truck, but I was thankful the blockade was not on my side of the highway as I was nearing the end of my fuel.

Through the Rusty Gates
Shot on iPhone 13

As I approached Albuquerque, I realized how enamored I was with this part of the country even though I knew so little about it. I wondered why I had never considered visiting this area before. Mountains, desert, snow – it almost seemed like a fictional landscape. I rolled on through, wishing I could stop to experience the location, but that was not my destination. “I can visit another time,” I said to Lucy as she looked up from her bed.

We barreled into Arizona, around 5pm. The sun was preparing for its meeting with the horizon. It shined brightly into my westward facing eyes making the drive just a little more strenuous than it already was. I had never looked so forward to driving at night. Just before the night took over, the sun painted the land with a wash of deep red orange below a pink and purple sky. I wondered if the other drivers on the interstate comprehended this beautiful transition of power.

Just after dusk I reached Flagstaff. Humphreys Peak, looming in the distance, seemed to wait on me to see it before it was too dark. Its snowcapped crown was like a beacon – visible for miles around, signaling that I was so close now to my destination. I began feeling a sense of excitement that I had not felt in quite some time.

I decided I better stop and get gas before I made the final hour push to the Grand Canyon. Another Love’s truck stop and a very kind long-haired fellow named, Todd, from Las Vegas of all places. He saw my tag and let me use his membership card to get a huge discount on gas. He said I could probably use it if I had driven all that way from Mississippi. He was not wrong. I had miscalculated how many gas stops I would need to make on this journey. As I pulled out of the gas station, I noticed how much snow was on the ground. It made me a little more excited but also a little concerned with the roads and how cold it would be for Lucy.

The road from Flagstaff to the Grand Canyon was a dark, two-lane highway. It meandered some but was straight. Signs for “Elk Crossing” reflected in the dark every few miles. I hoped to see lots of elk, but not at this time. Closer and closer I neared the park. Snow along the road looked thicker each mile forward. Through the dark, I finally saw it - the entrance! GRAND CANYON NATIONAL PARK! I could hardly believe that we had made it.

There was no attendant at the gate, but I paid for my pass and entered the park to head toward my campsite. It was only about 8pm but you would have thought it was past midnight as there wasn’t a soul in sight stirring around. I arrived at my campground – finding that the office was closed, and my reservation was nowhere to be found on the board outside. “Well, I’ve got to camp somewhere tonight,” I spoke out loud to myself like a lunatic as I stood there in the frigid air. I hopped back in the truck, put it in four-wheel drive, and found the campsite that I had reserved anyway. At this moment, I was extremely glad I made the trip in my own truck. Snow nearly covered up the site marker as there was almost 12” on the ground and ice all over the roads. The Park Service did their best to snow-plow the roads, but I doubt they had time to make it perfect.

Once I had parked in our spot, Lucy and I emerged from the Tacoma. I don’t recall if she had experienced snow before, but I do know that this was her first true experience with snow. She absolutely loved it! With it being late and the camp site being covered in snow, I decided it was best to sleep in the truck at least once more. I fixed up a freeze-dried meal and readied myself for bed. My last decision of that night, however, proved to be a terrible one.

Oliver Preus 4/7/23 Oliver Preus 4/7/23

The Canyon Run: Part 1

The hum of the road against my tires droned on. ‘The Canyon Run’ was underway and there was no turning back now. I called this trip ‘The Canyon Run’ because we had five days to get the Grand Canyon and back. It was a mad dash to see one of the places I have dreamed of seeing most of my life. This was also the time of year I had always wanted to see it, so I couldn’t pass up the opportunity.

First Sight in the Daylight
35mm Fujifilm Superia 200 - Canon AE1

The plan was to stop at a Texas state park south of Amarillo for the night and continue west the next day. As the saying goes “Plans are a fool’s errand”. That could not be truer on that day. For all my preparation and packing, I could not control doctor appointments. I was at the mercy of her schedule. Unfortunately, I could not leave Ocean Springs until 1:00 pm. My navigation showed 13 hours to Palo Duro Canyon – my first destination. When I say that leg of the drive was miserable, it was beyond that. By nightfall, I had only reached Shreveport and I was already weary. Thoughts of just staying the rest of the week in Palo Duro began to creep into my mind. The further I drove, the more I thought this journey would be too difficult. Even though I am only 35 and in relatively good health, I was not sure I could handle 45 hours of driving.

The Road Less Traveled
35mm Fujifilm Superia 200 - Canon AE1

The miles on the navigation decreased as I got closer. “Just keep going, its only a few more hours”, I thought. When I hit Dallas, I was reminded of how awful people can be on the road. Even at 9pm drivers were whipping around me, cutting me off, and driving like they were late for a meeting. Maybe they really had to go to the restroom? “Psychotic” would be the best way to describe Dallas drivers that night. By the time I got through the chaos, my nerves were shot but I could relax a little as I got on Highway 287. It was a straight shot to Amarillo from there. But I was still hours away from my stop. I hit 85mph and hit the cruise control. Luckily, most speed limits in Texas are 75mph. I cruised on through the dark night. Few cars passed by. My mind drifted. I started to feel the wind against my truck as I pushed into a cold front. Flashing red lights across the horizon appeared. “Am I that tired and hallucinating?”. As I neared them, I realized, they are windmills! Hundreds of them across the dark and flat Texas landscape – all flashing at the same time. You could say it was quite trippy.

Stopping in Childress, I got some gas and walked Lucy for a few minutes. It was then I was welcomed by that cold wind of the plains firsthand. We stopped another time or two. Everything started blur together at that point. We hit Amarillo and made a few turns before getting on the last road to Palo Duro. The darkness seemed to swallow my headlights as they found nothing to illuminate beyond a short distance of the road. Suddenly, I felt the land fall away from my wheels! I thought, “This must be it!”. Close, but not quite. Ahead my headlights finally found a point of reflection. The entrance! It was a about 3:00am when I pulled through the gates and headed to our campsite. I drove slowly as the road turned then made a sharp descent. Plunging down into the dark canyon I could see only hints of the rock faces.

Exhausted beyond words, I found our campsite and finally shifted the truck into “park” for the night. The wind was blowing hard, and the cold dry air was thick with dust. I could taste the Texas plains. I had no intention of digging out and setting up the tent, so I shuffled things around and made my bed in the backseat of the cab for the remainder of the night. Lucy slept snugly in her own sleeping bag as the temperature began to drop outside and within the truck. When I awoke several hours later, the temperature was below freezing. I looked outside the foggy windows, and the view nearly took my breath away! I slept well past sunrise due to our extremely late arrival, but even around 9:00am the canyon still held on to the colors of early morning light. The reds and greens of the landscape were a welcome sight to my tired eyes that had seen only the dark night and asphalt for far too many hours.

Emerging from the little warmth of the truck, Lucy and I greeted the canyon on a morning walk. I made sure we took our time, I decided there was no need to hurry off to Arizona that day. This place was quite incredible, and deserved a full day to soak it in. Plus, I was way too tired to drive 11 more hours that day.

I dug out the Coleman camp stove to cook up some sausage and eggs. The stove was new, so this was its christening adventure. Just like they always do, it worked like a charm. My cooking skills, on the other hand, are just good enough to keep me alive. Let’s just say breakfast was “edible”. With some carbs in my stomach, we ventured out (mostly driving because I was too exhausted to hike with cameras and other gear) to explore Palo Duro Canyon and take way too many photos and videos. I could not help it though. It was so much more amazing than what I was expecting.

The canyon also played a role in American History. Discovered by the Coronado Expedition in 1541 Apache Indians occupied the canyon. Some time later, Comanche and Kiowa tribes overtook the area. Although he was not chief at the time, Quanah Parker was a fierce warrior and known throughout the tribe as a leader. In 1874, Colonel Ranald S. Mackenzie led an ambush on the Comanche village that had resided there. Quanah led a retreat out of the canyon that perplexed Mackenzie and prevented further loss of Comanche lives. Quanah later became chief of the Comanche tribe and played a significant role in ending the Red River Wars and convincing the tribes to stop fighting and assimilate into the white man’s culture.

After exploring as much as we could handle that day, Lucy and I headed back to camp to have a walk and rustle up a nice, freeze-dried meal for dinner for me and dog food for her. It was some type of lasagna and I washed it down with my favorite box wine. Believe it or not, it was a great dinner! I got a call from a good friend, and we chatted a bit. I told him that I may not continue out to the Grand Canyon. He insisted that I better do it. “When are you ever going to have a chance to do this again?”, he asked me. I knew I wouldn’t and of course I knew my body would likely not be able to withstand the brutal drive ever again. It was now or never. Lucy was ready for bed and I rearranged gear to make my bed in the backseat again. As the night grew darker, light began to rise up from the canyon wall across from me. The moon rose slowly from the dark canyon and shined directly into my truck like a spotlight. It was so bright, I just had to admire it. I looked at Lucy and said, “We’re going to at least try, let’s just hope we don’t die”.

Wagon Wheel
35mm Fujifilm Superia 200 - Canon AE1

The last light shining on Palo Duro (Nikon D7500)

Oliver Preus 3/25/23 Oliver Preus 3/25/23

Listen & Learn

Rip listening for the sound of a gobbler.

As the evening sounds of the forest begin their symphony, he sends out a hoot and a howl. His cigarette burns between his fingers as the ash grows longer. We hold our breath and listen, hoping for the sound that gets our hearts pounding - the gobble of an old Tom turkey.

Deciphering the myriad of sounds from the woodland critters takes a trained ear. One must be able to hear the right sound through the fray. The forest can fool you, tricking your ears and your eyes into hearing and seeing things that are not actually what you believe they are. Learning to see and hear the woods clearly, takes time and patience. Talking to the game is a whole other level of skill.

Although he’s only been hunting wild turkeys for a few years, my friend Rip, has learned how to talk to the thundering birds of the forest and get them riled up with owl hoots and coyote howls. This past weekend, he taught me a ton about these magnificent birds: where they like to be, the best times to scout and hunt, how to find them, and a little of how to talk to them. Even though we didn’t bag a bird, we heard and saw a couple of hens. And it was a treat to see my friend in his element.

In time I hope to learn more of these skills and hunt the wild birds more often. It had been over a decade since I last walked in the woods to find a turkey. It felt great to do so once again - to listen and learn deep in the woods of Mississippi.

Oliver Preus 2/19/23 Oliver Preus 2/19/23

Part 2: Hitting The Road

Kyle’s cell phone rang. He went outside to talk. I sat inside his apartment, delirious, talking to his neighbor who had brought over some excellent beer. Kyle returned and broke the news that his mother was very sick with the virus that shall not be named. His younger siblings were rushing her to the hospital back home in Arkansas. His demeanor had changed and I could sense that our plans were about to change as well.

The next morning he said he needed to fly home to Arkansas to help take care of his mom and the rest of his family. They were all sick too albeit not as severe. I knew he had to go, even as I tried to convince him to wait a couple of days. It was the right thing to do.

The audible was called and the play changed at the line. We took a little time that day to hang out and experience the city and grab some gear for me. I would take him to the airport that night and set out for Mt. Rainier on Monday. He lent me his truck and all of his camping gear. We had food already so I was set. Going solo on an adventure was no big deal, I had done it a year ago. However, driving someone else’s truck on Seattle freeways scared the hell out of me.

By the grace of God, I made it to the Park. The road up to Mowich Lake from Carbonado may have been the roughest and dustiest drive of my life as it rattled the truck and my brains… But, I made it. Mowich Lake campground - my beautiful home for the next two nights.

I stood at the truck between trips to the tent as I unloaded my gear, looked up at Mt Rainier, and said, “I cannot believe I’m really here.” The adventure was just getting started.

Oliver Preus 2/19/23 Oliver Preus 2/19/23

Part 1: Seattle

In May of 2020 something awoke in me that I had never really felt. The hunger for adventure. I had done some traveling here and there over the years and even a couple of study abroad trips in Europe, but this was a yearning to explore that I could not hold back. Perhaps it was due to the pandemic and being cooped up for months or it was something that had been building up for years.

After talking with my mother one day about Yellowstone National Park, A light bulb began to flicker in my head. Days later I booked a flight to Bozeman, MT for a week long adventure to YNP and Grand Tetons National Park. It was the trip of a lifetime. But it wasn’t enough. My hunger for adventure had only grown stronger and I found myself pondering my next expedition.

Several months later plans for the next adventure began to come together. A buddy from college happened to live in Seattle, so plans started to take shape. Pretty soon, flights were booked, an itinerary was made, supplies were purchased, and suitcases were packed. My Washington expedition was soon underway and I landed in Seattle on July 17th.

What would happen next would change this whole trip entirely.

Oliver Preus 2/16/23 Oliver Preus 2/16/23

Part 4: Mowich to Seattle to Olympic

Continuing a journey through Washington State.

It has been almost a year since this adventure but I said that I would finish telling this story and I try to be a man of my word, so here it is. Part Four.

Rising early once again, I strolled about Mowich Lake soaking up the last couple of hours there. I packed my gear up after breakfast and began my journey back to Seattle for a night to regroup. On my way back, I stopped in Wilkeson at the Pick & Shovel Saloon for a burger and beer at 11am. I was the only customer in there. You could have told me that was the best burger in the world and I would’ve believed you. Damn, was it good!

Back on the road I headed for Seattle, I was nearly killed by a short tanker truck who’s driver had no intention of letting me get around them as the on-ramp lanes merged together. I made it back in one piece, refreshed, re-packed, and returned some gear Kyle had rented for Mowich. I hung out at a restaurant and ate a ton of bruschetta as I had to re-plan for Olympic due the big change in this trip. Reeking of garlic, I greasily made new camping reservations on my phone and plotted out the course for the next leg of my adventure.

Before I knew it, it was time to head out again. Siri took me on some weird roads but I made it to Olympic. The coastline nearly took my breath away. Even from the road, it was so incredible. I continued on to make it to my campground; an AirBnB spot Kyle had come across months before and stayed at. It was a on a private property along the edge of the National Park. Basically right next to the edge of the Hoh Rainforest portion of the park. It had a shelter, outhouse, a beautiful creek nearby. The perfect campsite.. Or so I thought.

While going through supplies left by the host, I found the guest journal that Kyle actually gave them and started himself. I read through all of the entries up to a couple of days before I arrived. A guest wrote “… and we even saw a mountain lion near our car!”. I nearly dropped that book. A MOUNTAIN LION?! My brain went into overdrive trying to remember what to do in case of an encounter. Could I fight it off if I had to? Maybe, I thought. I had a hatchet and a buck knife along with bear spray. Either way, I’d give it hell if it came to that.

After gathering my composure and eating a bite, I headed down to Beach #4 to watch the sunset. The moment I made it down to the beach, I was nearly in shock of the sight. The roar of crashing waves on the shore of rock and sand, washed away so many thoughts. A few people gathered on the large rock at the trail head pointed at a bald eagle down the shore. I scoped him out with my camera to get a few shots of it. While focusing on the eagle, I noticed some seals splashing around the waves. The first time I had seen seals in the wild.

After taking as many shots as I could with decent light, I headed back to camp. Upon my return I remembered that there was a potential visitor I needed to be prepared for. I built a fire in the stove and sat down to devise a plan. When I sat down on the chairs provided by the host, I noticed one was broken. They were metal lawn chairs – the kind that make a racket when you drag them or hit them with something. I suddenly had an idea.

Just outside the entry to the shelter, I rigged up the chairs as an alarm system - Certain it would make a commotion to alert me if something big was lurking just outside. Inside the open shelter, I laid out my mat and sleeping bag – knife, hatchet, and bear spray on the ground next to it. The July air was cold. The stove burned warm. Field mice scurried about the shelter ground in the light of the fire. I laughed as I welcomed their company. I thought, “At least they won’t try to kill me”…

Oliver Preus 1/26/23 Oliver Preus 1/26/23

Part 3: the hike

Continuing a journey through Washington State.

From my deep slumber I awoke, startled, by some noise. It was nearly light outside the tent as dawn seemed to come very early out there. My breath a faint cloud in the cool mountain air. I was warm and unwilling to sacrifice the comfort of my sleeping bag. My attempts to go back to sleep were futile, so began the process of getting dressed in my small tent, which I considered a workout.

I made coffee and took a short walk around part of Mowich Lake, camera in tow, as always. The water, so clear and calm, reflected perfect mirror images of the surrounding landscape. Small pockets of snow in shady areas still remained scattered through the trees and rocks, somehow cold to the touch even after a heatwave weeks prior.

A simple breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast after my walk provided some sustenance for the trek i was about to begin. Before things took a turn and Kyle had to go home to Arkansas, he shared a map of a trail he had hiked around there before. I was hesitant to hike alone, but I was willing to try.

After a delay trying to figure out how to carry the massive camera lens i had rented, I headed out on the trail. It began with an ascent of hundreds of feet right off the bat. I struggled to keep my camera secure around my neck with this behemoth of a lens attached to it. I made it about a mile up the trail, near the edge of the alpine line. Clouds began rolling in and i recalled my campground neighbor telling me how difficult it was to see the trail in the clouds when you’re above the tree line. Already being uncertain of hiking alone and concern about my rented lens, i regretfully let my worry takeover and i turned back and headed to the campground.

While i did turn back, i wasn’t about to quit completely. The trail i was on, was a loop back to the campground. My plan was to go around the other way around and pray that the clouds lifted. To my dismay, the clouds held their position, blocking any nice view from lookout points along the trail. My frustration mounted, as a sharp pain grew in my knee. A running injury from 2020 that never really healed, threatened to halt me in my tracks. But i was determined to at least make it to Spray Falls, an incredible 350 foot waterfall .

Hobbling along the trail, my trekking poles were soon serving me more like crutches. I arrived at Spray Falls and was stunned by the scale of this tower of cascading water and rock. I nearly fell backwards trying to look up to the top. I wish I could have stayed there all day.

Despite, the clouds and my pain, i soaked up every bit of scenery that i could. The clouds, the rocks, the snow, and the pines, layered with a texture of irony. Those elements made up the whole of what i came for, a closer view of the majestic peak of Mt. Rainier, however they found themselves as the subject of my lens for their individual qualities as components of a larger work of art. The rough texture and varying gray hues of the rock, the strong evergreen color of the pines, the stark white of the clouds and snow, all painted a picture that few perhaps seek to find beyond the overall view of the mountain.

Although the trail defeated me, I will return to someday and finish what I set out to accomplish that day.

Oliver Preus 1/26/23 Oliver Preus 1/26/23

Part 5: Olympic

Continuing a journey through Washington State.

That night, my mind only found rest for a few hours – if that at all. Every so often I would wake from my sedated and uneasy slumber, half expecting to see the blurry figure of a mountain lion lurking outside of my shelter. But it never showed, and I woke up that next morning relieved. There was a small part of me, however, that wanted to see it. To encounter something like that, although terrifying, seems like it would make a man feel more alive (and dead if they’re unlucky) than anything someone could experience.

In the early morning light, I gathered some gear and booked it down to Beach #4. My friend, Kyle insisted that I make it down to the shore early to catch the low tide, so I took heed of his advice. I arrived around 6:30 to see the tide so far out, it would have taken me quite a while to walk out to the water’s edge. Tide pools scattered across the beach became the temporary home for some sea life. Anemones and star fish desperately clung to the rocks that they partied on the night before the sea left them hanging high and dry. Barnacles and snails didn’t seem to complain. But for this Mississippi boy, it was a sight to behold. I explored the exposed rocks and greeted their short-term tenants for a while. The tide began its slow march back to reclaim its territory. I departed before I joined my new friends from “under the sea”.

After cleaning, journaling, and packing up, I left the shelter site and headed to the next campsite in Forks, Washington (home of some popular vampires). The campground called Three Rivers Resort was a private RV Park and campground with a store and restaurant. My neighbors were a young couple from South Carolina that sold their house and hit the road in an RV for several months to travel the whole country. To say I was jealous of them would be an understatement. Once I told them my life story, I went out in search of some wildlife to photograph. Unfortunately, I did not encounter any wildlife, but what I did find might have been just as amazing.

I drove down to First Beach. It was in a town called La Push, home of the Quileute Tribe which is a Sovereign Nation. I tried my best to not look like a complete fool and be a bother to anyone. As I was nearing the town, an eerie fog began to roll in from the sea. The quiet town made it seem even stranger. It felt like I was at the edge of heaven and God did not want me to see in quite yet. While he may not have wanted me to see in, his disguise was beautiful on its own. Shadows of massive islands of rock, held sacred to the tribe, loomed through the dense fog. Everything seemed frozen during that short period of time.

I snapped as many photos as I could then headed on back to camp.

As I ate my dinner and threw back a little wine that night, I sat in my hammock and thought about how something as simple as some fog could completely change my evening. The wind swayed the cedars and hemlocks as they lulled me to sleep. As a quick slight rain rolled in and forced me back to my tent, it dawned on me that my trip was actually coming to an end. But it wasn’t over quite yet. I was in for one last true experience of the Pacific Northwest.

Oliver Preus 1/26/23 Oliver Preus 1/26/23

Part 6: end of the road

The end of a journey in Washington state.

The completion of my journey through Washington State.

Sadness was up before me waiting in the tent for me to wake up. It woke me up as I realized it was my last day in Olympic and I had to go back to Seattle. I did not want to leave, but there was no choice.

I had some time to enjoy the area one last time before leaving. My neighbors mentioned Rialto Beach the night before as a cool place to check out, so I hit the road out there. The dense fog that had rolled in the day before, hung around like the last guest at the dinner party you’re hosting. It was cool that it was there, but I was ready for it to leave so that my memories were not foggy too. I looked for wildlife on the way hoping I would catch a moose or elk getting a morning drink from the river, but I was not that fortunate.

As I came around one bend to an opening near the mouth of the river, A bald eagle swooped down right over the truck! I nearly drove off the bridge. I looked out to my left and the view took my breath away. Two bald eagles now flew out towards towering islands of rock and trees at the mouth of the river - now revealed from their disguise. I followed the road until I reached the end. The Rialto Beach parking lot was overflowing already at 7 am. The tide was very low again, revealing more of the beautiful rock islands nearby. I was once again completely awestruck by this incredible place.

I walked along the parking lot and crossed up a dune of sand, rock, and massive logs of driftwood. It revealed one of the most beautiful beaches I’ve ever seen in my life. Dark sand and stones littered with driftwood so smooth you’d think each piece had been carefully carved and sanded by a carpenter. I caught a glimpse of some other bald eagles and watched them – taking as many photos as I could. As the roar of the waves grew louder, crashing on a couple of large rocks, I sat there on a log savoring all that I could see - holding on to that moment for as long as I could before I had to let go.

There was not much time for me to explore closer to the rock islands before I had to depart and pack up camp. I also did not want to test the speed of the tide’s return. Some brave idiots ventured out to the islands, even though it is illegal, and they were likely trapped by the rising tide. It was time to go. As I headed back, I pulled off to the side of the road where some folks were watching eagles. I hopped out to capture a few shots. Before I sped off, I took one last look at this incredible place and breathed in the air that I hope one day I will breathe in again. As I packed up camp, I nearly cried knowing that I may never see this place again. All I have is hope that I will.

After I got packed up, I stopped in the campground diner to grab a bite before my long drive back to Seattle. Cardboard cutouts of Bella, Edward, and Jacob glared at me as I ate my burger. It was a strange moment, but the burger was good. Back on the road, I took the Northern route towards Kingston to hop on the ferry. I stopped briefly at Lake Crescent to check out its spectacular views. It took a couple of hours, but it was a beautiful drive.

When I arrived in Kingston, I had no clue what to do, so I just followed the rest of the traffic like a lost sheep. Luckily, they were all going to the right place. I had to get a ticket for the ferry and wait around an hour until it was time to board. A couple next to me talked with me as I maneuvered some of my gear around in the truck. We talked about the mountains, and it made me miss them already. We parted ways as I went to walk around and take some photos, and then it was time to roll onto the ferry. I was oddly excited to do this since I had never been on a vehicle ferry, especially not across the Puget Sound. As the ferry crossed the water, the view of Seattle was incredible. Mount Rainier towered above and behind the city skyline. The Space Needle looked like a sewing needle by comparison. Watching as we barreled towards the shore, I admired all the mountains nearby, and felt a little jealous of the people of Seattle and surrounding communities that they get to see and enjoy all the time.

The ferry docked - everyone cranked up and rolled out like cattle pushing through a gate. I made my way back to Kyle’s house. The best part of the journey was over now, and the process to return home had now begun. I unloaded the truck and got cleaned up before returning some gear we had rented for the week. After running around town, I grabbed some dinner and began reorganizing my luggage for the trip home. The week began to hit me hard as I hit the hay.

The next morning, I made sure to head down to the Public Market in downtown. The men slinging fish around and singing were great entertainment. Fresh fish and chips were enjoyed as I savored the sights, sounds, and smells of all that surrounded me. My last hurrah of Seattle was to go up to the top of the Space Needle. Although it is an amazing view of the city and mountains, the ingenuity of the structure is remarkable. I never knew that one floor of it rotated and has windows in the floor to see directly below, which is both fascinating and terrifying! The landscape architect in me was also thrilled to see how spaces on the ground were planned around the tower and how rooftops of shorter buildings were painted with murals and utilized green roofs.

I drove back to the house to pack up my luggage and did my best to tidy up Kyle’s place. Out on the patio, I sat and admired the city and its backdrop one last time as I reflected on another epic adventure. There were no wild weather events this time, but there were a lot of struggles to overcome, both physical and mental. There were things back home heavy on my mind the whole trip as a family member was going through health problems and I felt helpless. Things would not be as they were when I left. But that is the way life goes. You can step forward into the unknown wilderness that God brings you to at the end of the road, or you can turn around and take the easy way out. I knew times ahead would be tough, but I knew at the end of it all, everything would be alright.

My return home was exhausting. It was a red-eye flight from Seattle to Charlotte with a nearly eight-hour layover until my flight back to the coast. As soon as I hit the ground in Charlotte, it was back to work. I spent the day working and catching up on emails, while finding moments to reflect on my journey. I arrived in Gulfport drained but thankful to see great friends who picked me up from the airport and take me home. My adventure was over, and it was back to the struggles of daily life I had to navigate once again. Looking back on these trips I have taken and experiences in wild places, the question now comes to mind; which is harder to survive – the mountain wilderness or our society? If I had a choice, think I’d rather take my chances on the mountain.