High on the Big Quil Trail,
I traverse a scree slope
below Buckhorn’s
basalt pinnacles.
At my feet, the season’s final
scarlet paintbrush.
Ahead, yellow cedars drape the way.
I climb above the trail,
cut fragrant branches
to remind me of summer days.
Winter snows arrive
so soon.
(No. 93 in a series of responses to Han-shan’s Songs of Cold Mountain)
The Upper Big Quilcene Trail leads to one of my favorite places in the eastern Olympic Mountains–Marmot Pass and beyond, to views of the interior Olympics. In addition to finding deep peace and beauty there, I have tested myself on the familiar trail many times–physically, mentally, and in other ways.
A couple of years ago I met an experienced old Olympics traveler slowly moving up the Big Quil. He was in his mid-80s, had recently had a shoulder replacement and heart bypass. He told me he climbs until he has to stop, well below the pass, draws a line across the trail with his hiking pole and says, “That’s it for today.”
(Numeric reference to Han-shan’s poem reflects the order of presentation in Burton Watson’s translation, presented as Cold Mountain, Columbia University Press, 1970.)
Post a Comment