Still Creek

Raleigh had been exhausted Friday night. Our hike earlier in the day had been along paved roads and fir needle padded paths but the three hours of her triangular trajectory, hopping over logs and climbing over slippery wet rocks had given Raleigh quite a workout. Her slow appetite and stiff and lethargic gait on Saturday morning called for a slower afternoon.  Rather go on our scheduled 8.2 mile moderate McIntyre trail hike without my girl, I elected for a short walk to our special spot we had found on Still Creek.

Although I brought along a book, it seemed wasteful to spend the time staring down when I could be looking out.  Raleigh immediately ambled over the rocks to find her way into the water whereupon she greedily drank. Still Creek at our post had some slow pools but within inches from the rocks it betrayed its name with determined currents and widely spaced stairs where salmon would be climbing a month from now. Despite the arthritis developing in her hips, Raleigh jumped from one pool to another chasing sticks and swimming in circles.

Raleigh found displeasure in simply sitting still; in this way we are cut from the same cloth. I joined her in climbing over rocks to make our way upstream. We displayed our advantages over the other in the number and physiology of the limbs we used. Raleigh's shorter legs required narrower crevasses and preferred flatter surfaces but took them regardless of the condition. Moss and pools of water meant nothing to her, while my bare feet gripped angled stones and trespassed far quicker over the immediate territory while attempting to stay dry and unfrozen. When the boulders became too large and the creek's pools became too deep we traversed our way downstream until we found the same obstacles to bookend our adventure.

I abandoned my camp chair for a moss covered recliner luckily formed by three different boulders and felt simultaneously more and less comfortable. Although the bubbling water carried only a few leaves at the moment, fall, winter and spring would most likely rearrange the furniture and the boulders of my chair would be repurposed downstream.  Raleigh too found a spot to sit in a slowly refreshed pool of water.  Her hips being iced in the shallow water must have brought her some relief because she grinned and panted the slow and shallow pattern of relaxation.

We watched the water for different reasons but didn't question one another's motives. A leaf fluttered down to the middle of the creek and I placed bets on its path only to be surprised by the alternatives taken. While I sat in my throne of stone, time started to mark itself by the intervals of leaves falling. Faster than minutes but slower than the quarter of an hour the green boats that dropped into the water seemed to occur at regular intervals. Throughout the day I questioned whether the interval shortened slightly as if to indicate the approaching end of summer. It made sense that in a few weeks the leaves would be falling faster and in another month even more rapidly than that. If you simply sit and watch the day pass by maybe it is possible to see the slow and inevitable surrender of summer increase its pace with every falling leaf.

While there was no breeze, there was some movement in the air that Raleigh inhaled just before she swayed to the side and inhaled deeply again. I wondered if she was following one particular scent or collecting a variety of smells. I took a similar deep breath, but found myself without the resources to duplicate her analysis. Raleigh's gaze bobbed along the water but never raised up more than a few feet from the surface. I felt at a greater advantage to be able to peer below the water's surface and far above to the tops of trees. If we could only combine our experiences we might show each other undiscovered aspects of the world around us. Having one another nearby seemed enough at the moment.

The taller fir trees swayed actively at their tips while lower branches and shorter trees led me to believe Still Creek's name was much more a reference to the immobility I shared with Raleigh. With minimal interruptions we sat and watched the infinite cascade of water and one another for three hours. As she looked at me, Raleigh gave me a happy grin that I feel must have said, "Isn't this great?"  It certainly is.

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