I'm not sure we've met.

I planned to hike this weekend no matter what.  All my buddies bailed on me, so I knew I was on my own.  Upon very reasoned consideration?  I knew I had my death march on Saturday morning, as well as two games of football to get through.  I picked two possible hikes.   A five mile moderate hike and a 7.5 mile slightly more difficult hike.  Choice to be made based on how I was feeling when I woke up this morning.  On waking up to find myself only a little bit twingy if I move a very particular direction, I decided on the 7.5 miler to Lake Serene.  What a good decision.  I'd googled it, so I had all the info.  

I arrived at the trail head just before 8:00 am to find one car parked there with the windows covered in plastic and taped up.  Hmmmmmm... Well.  I don't see anyone moving.  If they have murder on their mind?  They will most likely wait until I'm done hiking, and by then?  The parking lot should be full.  I took my potty break (at the traditional, well known, WA state park outhouse) and headed off on the trail.  About a mile and a half in there is a cross-road.  1/2 mile up to Bridal Veil Falls, or straight (mostly straight up) 2 miles to Lake Serene.  Half a mile?  Half a mile?  A mere half a mile to the falls?  I can't miss that.  I just can't.  Right?  It is only half a mile to the Falls.  It's water falls.  It's only half a mile.  I can hear the falls from where I am standing. 

Straight up in switchbacks.  I went for what I swear was at least 4 miles to get to the falls, though I have to admit the best waterfall I have ever seen.  Straight up.  Switchback.  Straght up.  Switchback.  Straight up.  Switch back.  Look!  There's a little waterfall.  Wha...  I have to walk across it?  Yep.  Straight up.  The trial continues on the other side.  Look!  Another little waterfall.  I have to walk across this one, too?  Yep.  Straight up, the trail continues on the other side.  Look!  Another little waterfall.  Haven't I reached the view point yet?  Switchback.  The trail continues back over two of the little waterfalls, straight up.  Switch back.  Straight up.  Switch back.  Stairs.  Stairs.  Stairs.  Stairs.  Straight up.  Switch back.  OK.  Is there really a view point up here?  The sign must have been kidding.  Whew.  Half a mile.  I can make that.  Just half a mile.   I can hear the stinkin' falls.  I can hear them.  Ohhhhhhhhh... Straight ahead.  I can see mist floating.  Straight up?  Take a left.  I can see the mist coming of a big set of falls that are swollen from snow drainage.  Roaring.  Misting.  Falling.  

That was worth the price of admission.  Repeat the prior paragraph, inserting "straight down" anywhere you see "straight up."  And adding a story about my next hiking learning curve.  I've learned a lot about hiking through straight practial experience (a/k/a doing it wrong), and today I learned another helpful factoid.  If a bug is flying toward you?  I do not care how potentially poisonous an insect flying near your chest may be, death is infinitely more likely to ensue if, in attempting to evade a bug, you manage to accidentally throw yourself off the halfway point of a set of stairs and go violently tumbling and scrabbling down the hard-climbed stairs, switchbacks and striaghtdowns.  LET THE BUG LAND.  It was a very important lesson to learn.  I think I scared the bug.  It never did come back.  

Now that I've seen the falls?  Off to see the lake.  Crap.  The trail is going down.  I hate downhills at the early part of the trial.  It means uphills at the end of the trail.  Keep walking.  Oh.  Man.  It has down-stairs in it, too.  Forging streams.   Small approximately 1.5 foot wide crossing bridges.  Big bridge over river.  (Potty break - shhhhhhhh... Don't tell.)  Forging more streams.  Uphill.  Uphill.  Nother stream.  (Mental note?  Check the rock BEFORE stepping on it.  Most of them tip.  Did you really want to get that wet?)  Mud.  Straight up.  Straight up.  Switchback.  Straight up.  Stairs.  Switchback.  Crap.  Tree.  Hmmmm... OK.  Footsteps there.  Follow them.  Straight up.  Switch back.  Forge stream.  My legs are starting to get shaky.  I can't regret the falls pitstop.  It was a major highlight of the trip, but wow, my legs are really starting to hurt.  Switchback.  Straight up.  Stairs.  Switchback.  Straight up.  Level-ish.  Straight up.  I have to be close to the top.  I have to turn around.  This hurts.  I'm getting shaky.  Ooooooohhhhhh... Don't look down.  I don't really like heights.  Urgh.  Ummmm... Look very carefully at this nice solid perfectly wide-enough trail directly under my feet.  It's all just fine.  Just keep your eye on the trail.  Stairs.  Switchback.  Straight up.  Level-ish place.  Darn.  Tree.  Hmmmmm... Well.  Footsteps.  Grab on.  Walk careful.   Oh.  Yeah!  Eyes on this nice lovely perfectly solid trail directly under my feet.   I am not that high up.  I am not that high up.  I am not that high up.  I am not that high up.  I am not that high up.  I am not that high up.  I am not that high up.  OK.  Switchback.  Switch back.  Straight up.  OK.  I give.  Down three steps.  What time is it?  Crap.  I haven't even been out here two hours.  I can't even make it to the top of Big Si in two hours.  Give it another 20 minutes.  I have to be close to the top.  Straight up.  Stairs.  Switchback.  Level-ish.  Up.  Up.  UP.  Switchback.  Well.  Hell.  Tree on trail.  Big tree.  Its width is chest high on me as it lays along and across the trial.  Take a drink.  Oh.  Here comes someone else.  Let them pass.  Take another drink.  Not passing.  Stopping to chat.  Glad he did, as he has an altitude meter, does this trail all the time, and knows that I am about 20 minutes from the top, and that it levels out if I can just make it one more switchback.  

Me:  You are making this look way easier than it feels.  
Stranger:  Is it tough?
Me:  A little.  I did way too much yesterday.
Random chatter from both of us.
Stranger:  You look like your rested now? 
Me:  Yep.  I will probably see you at the top.

Off he goes.  Follow him.  Straight up beside the tree.  Step.  Step.  Hop and done.  Over and on his way to the switchback.  I can do that.  Step.  Step.  Hmmmmmm... Hop?  Nah.  Sling leg over and ungracefully slide over as if I'm being tossed onto a bareback horse?  Nah.  Well.  Maybe.  Oh.  $%###%.  Nausea inducing view UNDER MY FEET!  I am not that high up.    I am not that high up.  I am not that high up.  I am not that high up.  I am not that high up.  I am not that high up.

Stranger:  It's a pretty good jump.
Me:  Ummmmmm... yeah.  Problem is.  If I hop over here, I am just enough scared of heights that I will have to stay up here because I will not go back down.
Stranger:  Oh.   Wandering back down hill, around tree holding my current problematic tree on the trail and back down full length of the problematic trail tree before I can even step, step backwards down the trail from whence I came (past the nausea inducing view DIRECTLY under my feet), and he has already found a way to crawl under the problematic tree.  I really should have turned around before that last freaking levelish spot.
Stranger:  Here.  You can crawl under the tree.  It looks like.
Me:  That I can do.  I can crawl in mud.  I just cannot do the heights.  Crawling in mud I will try.  (What in the world am I doing at 2100 feet on the side of a ledge with a gentleman I have never met before convincing me to crawl through the mud?   I really don't know, but if he is going to murder me, I guess I want to at least see the lake first, and he appears determined to get me that far.)

He was right.  It leveled off directly after the next switchback and became much easier to traverse.  He stopped regularly to make sure I was keeping up and not have trouble.  Giving me random instruction on where I could get a headlamp (an essential to not be without if you are hiking), the reasons that boots are necessary, how an ice-ax is a good idea, especially for a hike such as the one we were on, other hikes that would be perfect for me, hiking groups I should/could join to learn more and find people to hike with, carefully stomping foot prints into the (by now) snow covered trail so that I had a staircase in the snow to climb, and mostly, I think, attempting to distract me from the steep drop-off to my right that on a couple occasions was avoided only by walking on the foot (as in my foot and your foot and any normal person's foot that they walk on daily) width path that had been beaten into the snow to allow people to continue to hike up to the snow covered lake, only to cross a body-width bridge to get to the lunch rock, which was also still covered in snow.  I also found out that he works construction, lives in a nearby town, his wife is beautiful, she is a wonderful cook, and the two of them are working on living longer healthier lives by changing their exercise and eating habits to the healthiest lifestyle they can attain.    After he drug me through the final stages of the hike due to his inability to let me fail, I had another one of the best views I've seen anywhere.  The lake covered with snow, the surrounding rock faces covered in mist.  An amazing trip worth every step and possible sore muscle.  I also finally introduced myself to the gentleman with the beautiful wife.  

He did not leave me to fend for myself on the way down, either.  (Yes.  I did heave a huge sigh of relief when I finally discovered for certain he did not have any plans to toss me in the lake, either, but was being a complete and utter gentleman by saving the obviously not quite prepared female from falling off the hill, while still allowing her to make the entire hike.)  We had a lovely chat all the way down the 3.5 mile hill, where you can reverse the uphill portion by inserting "straight down" anywhere you see "straight up," and file away a mental picture of me once again wallowing through the mud to climb under a tree that he walked over and hopped off the other edge of  (freakin' nausea inducing view.  I'm telling you.  Now way in hell I'd ever hop that tree), hiked UP that dastardly downhill point near the beginning of the trail, learning about how he built his home in the nearby town, he and his wife have no debt, and he explained what Devil's Club is, and ultimately ended up working on how to best find me a new boyfriend.  It was a fun walk.  I'm glad I decided to save West Tiger 3 for a day when I have company.  I had the best company I could have asked for today, and I finished a hike that I would have given up on.  Someone is looking out for me.  It has been a good week. 

I got into my car, and slowly discovered more an more mud.  I am not sure how there can be any mud left on the trail.  I have to have brought a major portion of it home with me.  I was covered to mid-thigh.  Covered.  I did not make it past my front entry way when I got home.  All clothing came off right there and went straight into the washing machine.  I don't know that the majority of the mud will ever come out, but it is not spread through my house.  I also discovered that my hiking shoes?  Will keep my feet dry.  Now I can really go crazy hiking.  Watch out Western Washington.  Here I come!