It was a crazy thought. In less than four weeks get ready for a strenuous trek through the Olympic National Park. Four days removed from civilization, cell phones, work and stress.
My father-n-law made the suggestion. We had tried the trip the year before and found ourselves knee deep in snow (in late June even), but this year the rain was down, the temps looked favorable and without too much of a pause, I said "yes!"
Training was a blur, but I hit my normal hiking with a little extra weight on my back and a focus on the daily grind that the trip would bring. But as I tried to get my legs and back to a place that would manage carrying my shelter, food and misc, I realized that I needed to also bring something for my spirit as well.
Ukulele is a passion of late. I have always played music - be it percussion, drums, guitar, dulcimer, but this curious little instrument has found such a special place in my heart. It sings with a voice that cuts through the negativity of the day and puts a smile on my face even when my heart is heavy. It's compact and often not taken seriously, but it has a voice that is unmistakable and soothing. Sometimes longingly singing a melody and other times full of the twangy blues that touches your soul.
So I decided to take a Uke into the Wild. I own several (it's some strange compulsion that other Uke players have described in blogs and facebook). But I also had found this wonderful place just on the other side of Atlanta - Uke Republic, and had an idea. Take a waterproof, plastic Uke with me on the trip. Take the journey and rigors and see just how the little guy would hold up.
Mike at Uke Republic obliged and I set off with a Kala Waterman Ukulele.
The trip started from Atlanta's Hartsfield-Jackson Airport to Seattle, Washington. The next day I'd be in the truck and off towards the peak above Hart's Lake in the middle of the Olympics. It was a time for me to bond with my father-n-law and also a time to recharge before my job ramped up in late July for the school year.
With my pack securely attached and the Uke right on the back, we headed out. First day - 10 miles along the Duckabush. A peaceful, almost vacant trail that allowed my thoughts to wonder as my feet wandered. When I stopped for a pause, I would pull out the Waterman and strum some simple tune or some lingering melody that haunted my thoughts. It was in these surreal moments that the melody combined with words to form the beginnings of a song.
Each night I spent time around the campfire, strumming, writing, enjoying the simple joys of life in the wild. Each day I found a few moments here and there to pluck. The Ukulele responded and was exactly what I needed it to be - rugged, responsive and even resonant at times in it's voice.
On the second day I fell. Not just falling from tripping, but as I came down a long embankment my foot caught on a branch and I found myself thrust forward and down, 45 pound pack and all. I knew that I had to throw my weight to the pack to avoid injury. In that instant I wasn't thinking about the little instrument that was on the far back of the pack. I came down hard. Knees and back taking the blunt of the fall. Once I got up and made sure nothing was injured or broken, I remembered the Uke. Pulled it out and even though I know it was under everything, it remained intact. Kudos to Kala for making it pretty near indestructable!
The journey was a beautiful adventure. I wasn't able to make it all the way to the summit we had planned to reach, but I found solace in a place that captured more of my heart. Amidst seeing a herd of elk, wild grouse, mountains that touched the sky and simple butterflies that would never know the world I had left, I found what I will always call 'home'. The wild.
So if you have the opportunity to go, whether it be the Olympics, the hills of Georgia, Carolina's coast or anywhere you choose. Take with you something that allows you to find your spirit and fly!
Uke the Wild!
