All week with the deviled eggs. Dawn made too many for Easter brunch and now I eat about 11 a day (halves, not wholes). The morning moon thin as a sickle. I wonder if I’ll be able to see it camping on the coast this weekend. Would prefer to go with a friend but being alone lets me go deep with a book, my journals. It is the full sensory experience being on the Washington coast when the earth reawakens. The sea never sleeps. It’s where I developed my love of cold showers, bathing in a tidally influenced stream. A lot of it is the anticipation of going back. From the parking lot through the first canopy of forest and the long descent to the beach. I’ll get there by early evening and walk a couple hours to a camp by a creek just inside the forest, with views of the sea. And there it will be beautiful and I’ll grapple with my loneliness and then it will abate and I’ll be free.
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Categories: Creative Nonfiction, Travelogues
Bill Pearse 
You’re gonna miss those deviled eggs. Meanwhile, when I go on hikes by myself, your last sentence pretty much describes it perfectly. Such an aching loneliness at some point and then everything is fine.
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Thanks Mark! Hope you’re settling in back nicely from your recent trip. Glad that bit resonated with you (and yes, on the eggs).
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Interesting take on the loneliness. I’m not sure I’ve ever grappled with it, seen it abate, and then be free of it. But then I tend to get more lonely around people or crowds. In nature, not so much.
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Thank you (and hi from the town of Elma, on the outskirts of Aberdeen).
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This small rucksack of thoughts took me back. To climbing over logs, trails, rocks by the water’s edge, tides, stringing up a shelter to sleep under. How I once saw a bear in the distance. No, no, that was much more recently.
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