August 2025

It was my Dad who had the passion first. He loved hiking, backpacking, camping and fishing. If he had a choice, he would be outside. Of all the things he passed on to me, that passion surely is my favorite. Yes, I have his love for boots, coats, and hiking gear. I have his Choctaw/Cherokee heritage. But the passion for the outdoors, living and breathing in the wild places, is the best of all. This week's hike was going to be a very special one because of him. I would be honoring my Dad in a very special way.

When my Dad passed away, my Mom told me that I could spread his ashes in a place of my choosing. I knew this right before he died and when he was pretty much comatose in the hospital bed in their home's front living room on hospice, I said the name of the place I wanted to spread his ashes. I knew he would know the place as it was marked in one of his old hiking books and I had heard him say what a special world unto its own this was. As much as a comatose person could respond, I felt his approval in that moment. So I knew to the bottom of my soul that this is where I had to get him to.

My Mom gave me his ashes right before the one year anniversary of his death with the intent that I would spread them on my hike that week. I just ran into one problem. On the very day of the anniversary of his passing, lightening struck right near where I was suppose to take him and a huge forest fire started. The trails and roads to the area where shut down tight for months. (I know this because I tried to get in there, despite the fire, and the authorities were not having it). I watched that fire every day as it spread and spread. I poured over the maps of where it had burned. Strangely, it burned all around the exact location I told him I would put him, but not anywhere near his meadow in the shadow of the mountain.

So here we are now, two years to the week of his death. This was my second chance to release my Father's ashes on his special anniversary of going to Heaven. Although we had been having a very dry summer, the Weatherman was calling for rain. I thought it just as well as there would be fewer people on the mountain that way. But I was worried about lightening. I did not want a repeat of last year as I know my Dad was tired of sitting in the spare room. As I packed up my gear and put Dad's box in my backpack, I was surprised by how heavy he was. I'm not going to lie, I was kind of excited about carrying him on my back in trade for those times when I was little and he carried me on his.

As we drove to the mountain, I told my Dad that this was our last road trip together. This would be our final adventure. I hoped it would be a great day. As we drove, I reminisced about all our old adventures. Of course there were the hikes. Every photo of me was in pigtails, with a huge orange backpack on my back about as big as I was, and my hands and face blue from eating berries. I have lost the pigtails and my pack is no longer orange, but the rest is the same to this day. I remembered the hike when I was probably 4 years old and we were getting ready at the trailhead and a large group of young adults were shocked at how big my pack was and couldn't believe what they were seeing. Now, back then, my pack was full of stuffed animals and candy that the racoons would fight over at night outside our tent. I laughed when I remembered the backpacking trip Nova and I took a few years back before the Wolf joined us where I once again had an enormous backpack on and a group of men were shocked that I was trail running and jumping over downed logs with a pack that size. Yup, there was surely candy in that pack.....but no more stuffed animals.

In my walk down memory lane, I recalled how my Dad took us out every year to find the perfect Christmas tree, or all the summers we cut and stacked firewood together as a family. I remembered eating scones with jam at the State Fairs. I remembered all the times he disappeared for days to have his own backpacking adventures. Some of my favorite memories came though when I was a young adult. After I graduated High School, I had used all the money I had been saving from working jobs for years to fly to Germany and live with an exchange family and then travel with a EuRail pass and backpack all over Europe seeing as many countries as possible and staying in youth hostels and anywhere cheap. After my first month, my Dad flew over to join me for my second month. Man, did we have some adventures.

There was the time we were in Italy and there was about to be a transportation strike and we would not be able to get out of the country. We jumped on the first train going anywhere at the time and barely made it north. There was the time we were on a train in Greece and it broke down in the middle of no where and we all ran out of food and water, but the kind farm worker in the field we were in started throwing lemons into our open windows. There was the time we were on another train that stopped for men in full military uniforms and huge rifles to get on. They checked everyone's papers and then said we could pay more money in cash to keep going, or get off there in the dark of night. I was prepared to get off, but my Dad produced some money from somewhere so we kept going. There was driving like wild on the autobahn, climbing the Eifel tower to the top because we didn't have money for the elevator, booze that tasted like black licorice, the leather shop keeper in Germany who thought I was the daughter of the shop keeper next door because my German was so good. Memory after memory.

There was the time we were on a huge ship in the Mediterranean Sea at night and we could not afford the passage to go inside and had to stay on deck like cattle. But it became absolutely freezing and at some point in the middle of the night, surely in an extreme hypothermic state, I left my pack and my Dad and wondered around the ship desperate for heat. I crawled down inside a giant coiled rope as the only shelter I could find and finally fell asleep. The next morning my Dad thought I had fallen overboard before he finally found me. I was fine, but in hindsight, might not have been had they dropped anchor.

There were the museums, tours of amazing castles, great food and crazy people. There was the time on a bus in Rome where it was standing room only and you have to hold straps hanging from the ceiling (that I was not tall enough to reach) and I was slammed into the man in front of me going around a sharp corner, accidentally grabbing a lot of his behind in the process of not falling. When he turned around to glare at me, I realized he was not wearing a trench coat, but was a priest and I could not speak Italian to explain myself. Oh, how I thought I was going to hell in that moment.

There were the dirty canals that shocked us in Venice and the bus ride in Athens when a fight broke out and we were sure we were going to end up dead. There was history like we had never experienced in the States, and speeding trains, boats, small planes, taxi rides, every form of transportation you can imagine. There were some of the worst hotels you can imagine with overflowing toilets and terrible beds. There were cots and sleeping in train stations. There were people looking down on us and others who wanted to talk to us. There were gondola rides up into the Austrian Alps where we could hike among amazing peaks. There was Big Ben in London. There was bartering with street vendors to buy souvenirs to either pack with us or mail home. We ate so much yogurt we found out my Dad might be lactose intolerant. We had crepes from an outdoor vendor in France. We went to Auschwitz and somberly read (in German) that "work makes you free" before seeing the showers with finger tracks racked into the walls as hundreds of thousands of Jews were poisoned to death. This was a trip and an experience of a lifetime. I will never forget it.

It was so much fun to remember these stories about my Dad as I drove him to his final resting place. When we reached the trailhead, I instantly saw that I was parking next to a Forest Ranger truck. But here, that could be a problem. This was a trailhead where a lot of people start a climb which requires a special pass. Of course my truck has all the passes on his dashboard.....NW Forest Service pass, Discover Parks pass, WA State Snow Parks pass, OR State Snow Parks pass.....my truck is passed out. But I did not have the volcanic pass today to climb above a certain elevation. The good news is that with two dogs tied to me, it is unlikely anyone would see me as a climber. There are also a fair number of other trails in the area. So I tried not to worry. "Okay, Dad, here we go...final adventure!" I said out loud as we hit the trail together one last time.

We were not even a mile in when a solo male figure was coming down the trail toward us looking at us uncomfortably closely. As we came within speaking distance of one another, I saw his patch. He was the ranger. He had a lot of gear tied to him....helmets, ice axe, etc. I knew he had been climbing and looking for volcanic passes on everyone out here. He started to ask me what I was doing, where I was going, what my itinerary was, all while quickly surveying my gear. I could see the appreciation in his eyes that he could see I knew what I was doing with my level of gear and the girl's tactical harnesses. I could see his surprise when his eyes landed on my holster and he looked quickly back up to my face.

I tried to make jokes and show him Nova's Bark Ranger pass. He wasn't falling for it. He wanted answers. I was being super vague because, well a solo female hiker does not tell a solo male on the side of a mountain exactly where to find her. That would just be stupid no matter who he is. I don't trust most humans at all, and just because the man had a badge, did not mean I was going to trust him. But my being vague was picking up the man's spidey senses. He started asking more questions and I think I started to sweat. All I could think was the voice I was hearing adamantly saying "Don't tell him there is a dead man on your back." I wanted to yell at my Dad to stop saying that and was fighting getting the giggles which would have been the end of my hike if this man blocking my path had anything to do about it. I was terrified that he was going to ask me to open my pack to see if I had spikes and an ice axe or other climbing gear. My Dad was in a large white cardboard box labeled in big letters on the top, "Temporary Urn". There would be no hiding him.

Thoughts went through my head....should I pull my gun, should I make a run for it, should I break down and tell him what I am doing and beg for mercy, should I sick the Wolf on him...??? Too many thoughts to make a decision, until the girls did it for me. Nova ran up to him and repeatedly jumped up on him to say hello. He had to choice but to give her his full attention. That was the perfect segway to tell him that she was the nice one, but the big one was not. That was Josie's cue to slowly start to stagger toward him, locking him in her fierce gaze. I acted like there was nothing I could do to stop her. He read her patches that warned she is a beast. At this point, he made the decision that we were not worth it and said for us to have a good hike. Way to go girls!!! You saved Grandpa's day! What a team I thought.

We practically ran past the Ranger and as soon as we were out of earshot, I bust out laughing and could swear I heard my Dad laughing. "Yup, one last fun adventure!" I told him. Then as we stopped to let Nova pee, I looked up and saw a deer standing completely still not far from us just blinking while calming looking at us. Somehow, unbelievably, Josie did not sense this creature. So I just waved and smiled at the deer and knew my Dad was right there with us.

As we started to climb in earnest, we soon ran into wildflowers. They were everywhere and in every color. Strangely, in a lot of areas, there would be just all one color.....so fields of purple followed by fields of red. In some places they were mixed together. We were starting to enter the most magical paradise I know.

This is a land where there are numerous bubbling brooks and streams going everywhere. Thick moss and wildflowers cover every surface. Alpine trees stretch skyward. Basalt and lava rock are scattered all around. It is all experienced right in the shadow of the mountain. There are meadows here that I swear I can still see teepees and Native Americans racing horses. There are some of the best blueberries I have ever eaten here. There are so many hidden waterfalls and lakes. It is surely paradise. I knew right where I would be spreading my Father's ashes. But when I arrived at that meadow, I wasn't ready to let him go quite yet.

"How about I give you a full tour and show you all around your home here?" I asked. He might have jumped in my pack in that moment. "Okay, off we go Ladies." I said to the girls, "We are going to show Grandpa all around our favorite places today." So we continued our hike, past more waterfalls and streams and flowers.

We found my favorite blueberries and stopped for a long time. Nova was anxious to get some as usual. These special berries are only on these super low growing bushes just about a foot off the ground. The berries grow underneath the foliage, so are hard to see. Perhaps this is why God made me so petite, so I could find all the best berries!! I am so okay with that plan. I made sure my Dad knew where to find all the best berries in the area. I also ate enough for us both.

As we were hiking along, I felt my Dad tell me to look over to my right and I caught my breath. There right off the trail a bit, was the most spectacular field of Indian Paintbrush I have ever seen. Funny thing, that was my Dad's favorite wild flower!!! Of course they were all blooming today and he saw them first. So we climbed down and over to them, crossing a stream to get some pics. Just unreal.

I strongly debated if this is where I should release my Dad. But as I looked around, I knew this was too close to the trail and he likes privacy. It also did not have views of the mountain. So I decided to stay with the plan, but knew this field was close enough to his meadow that we could all visit anytime. I was certainly feeling a surge of emotion seeing these, his favorite flowers, in such riot as they were. It was hard to leave. But we had another waterfall I needed to show my Dad before the day ran out of light.

Finally, I knew that we could dawdle no longer. I was stalling, but it was time to turn around and head back to his meadow. It was getting late and the weather was turning. Most of the day it had been misting on us, but that was beginning to turn into a full rain and temps were really dropping. We crossed one of my favorite streams, twice, as it turns through this section, and then started to pass a multitude of meadows quickly filling in with fog.

By the time we got to my Dad's special meadow, the rain was getting real serious and I was soaked through and starting to shake. It was as if Heaven was crying and it made things easier for me if that makes any sense. This was the moment I had dreaded and looked forward to for so long. I used my hiking knife from my tactical belt to slice open my Dad's box. Inside was a pile of cotton getting soaked. Then underneath that was a giant clear bag zip-tied closed of his ashes. I was surprised that there were no bones or chunks like you find in animal ashes. I cut the bag open and quickly began to spread him around. It luckily was not windy or all the things I feared when I had imagined doing this. I said prayers of thanksgiving for my Dad and that I couldn't wait to see him again in Heaven. I hoped that he would be happy here. But I knew that I would love for my final resting place to be in a meadow, along a stream with wildflowers all around and just under the shadow of one of my very favorite mountains. I hoped that some day, someone, would do this same kindness for me after I pass. I promised my Dad that I would try to come visit him every August for as long as I could. I told him I expected to see even more Indian Paintbrush each year and that he had to save me some blueberries.

Finally, before leaving, I opened my thermos. I had packed something special today. My Dad's last meal on earth, and one of his favorite comfort foods, were scrambled eggs pan fried in butter with salt and pepper. You better believe that is what I had with me on this hike and they were thankfully still warm. I ate them in honor of my Dad. That is when comic relief hit when Josie tried to lick some of his ashes up. "Don't eat Grandpa" I screamed and pulled her back.

Yup, these are the kind of things the Wolf makes me say out loud. Reminded me of the time I had to yell at her to stop licking my testicles. You see....a friend of mine had given me a small pair of ceramic testicles to hang from the rearview mirror of my trail truck (she knows me well that one) and the first time I did, the Wolf kept licking them. So with laughter on my lips now brought to me by my goofy hiking partners, I found it easier to walk away and say my final goodbyes. I almost didn't notice how much lighter my backpack had become. My heart felt both heavy and light leaving him there. Thanks for everything Dad. Can't wait to hike with you in Heaven. I will expect nothing less than a spectacular first tour when I get there!!

As the girls and I hiked under the darkening sky, I was reminded of part of a verse from 1 Thessalonians 4:

"We do not want you to be uninformed about those who sleep in death, so that you do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope..........we will be with the Lord forever."