Asking Good Questions on the Trail to Melakwa Lake

This week provided me with an overwhelming range of blog topics. Smoky Seattle skies, even as we’re nearing November. Our company’s upcoming launch of a reimagined website. A return to training in-person clients. And discovering that dropping our daughter off at college the fourth time hurt more than the first. Wanting to keep a positive vibe in my blog, I decided to share a fun discovery from a recent hike to Melakwa Lake: the power of asking good questions.

Maple leaves in full fall color as my hiking partner and I traded off asking good questions on the trail to Melakwa Lake.
Maple leaves in full fall color as my hiking partner and I traded off asking good questions on the trail to Melakwa Lake.

Where Is the Clean Air?

If you have been following my blog, you may recall questions I asked myself on a recent autumn hike to Granite Mountain. This time, one of my most important questions came to me the night before: where can I find clean air? It was hard to do this month, as the Pacific Northwest has been hit hard by some of the worst smoke yet, thanks to wildfires in the mountains and zero rain. I’d perused the AirNow.gov website for possible shifts in the winds, and we decided to go east of Snoqualmie.

As I approached milepost 35 on I-90, I could hardly make out the mountain ridge above. No way can we hike in this! However, once we pulled into the Denny Creek campground twelve miles beyond, my mood improved. Blue skies. No haze. No smoky stench. Mission accomplished. My soul sang. We’d finally get to hike again!

Ajax and I enjoyed Franklin Falls, a warm-up walk before our target hike. We picked up ten doggie bags and other trash items, reminiscent of 2021's OcTraPiMo, leaving the trail cleaner than we found it.
Ajax and I enjoyed Franklin Falls, a warm-up walk before our target hike. We picked up ten doggie bags and other trash items, reminiscent of 2021’s OcTraPiMo, leaving the trail cleaner than we found it.

What Makes for Good Questions?

As Ajax, my buddy, and I started up the trail, I eagerly anticipated the deep philosophical exchange that usually develops from our conversations. Later, in my never-ending quest to improve my communication skills, I tried to figure out what helps us have such great discussions. We have a knack for picking up right where we left off. In this case, our last hike together was four months ago. We also care deeply about each other. But perhaps it boils down to asking thought-provoking questions.

What are some of the qualities of good questions? Not only are they short, concise, and descriptive — and asked one at a time — but they also advance a conversation. They help you:

  • Avoid confusion
  • Provide additional information and clarification
  • Get the conversation flowing
  • Allow you to express your curiosity
  • Explore new directions
Smiles all around, in front of blazing red maple leaves.
Smiles all around, in front of blazing red maple leaves.

Tips for Asking Good Questions

Bobby Powers provides tips about how to phrase a question on Medium.com. My favorites are:

Ask What and How, not Why

“Why” questions tend to put people on the defensive and make them feel like they’re being grilled. “What” and “how” are more objective and neutral. “Why didn’t you do your homework?” is not a question any student wants to hear. Or answer. But “How much time have you spent on your homework?” or “What kind of assignments did your teachers give you this week?” may start a much more interesting — and engaging — conversation.

Upper Melakwa Lake with its crystal-clear blue sky, around noon on 10/18/22.
Upper Melakwa Lake with its crystal-clear blue sky, around noon on 10/18/22.

Embrace the Pause

“Silence is the noise thinking makes,” offers Powers. Sometimes when the conversation runs out, I wrack my brain trying to come up with the next topic. During this hike, I let silence come and go, and was pleasantly surprised when my buddy came up with some fascinating things to talk about. And questions of her own. By allowing for pauses and processing time, our conversations go even deeper. And if we happen to expose a raw nerve, then we both realize there’s plenty more to discuss, but we take a gentler approach. Win!

Ask Open-ended Questions

Ask open-ended questions that require more than a “yes,” “no,” “maybe” or “I don’t know” reply. In the world of work, “Do you want a new job?” won’t lead very far. Instead, “What sort of responsibilities are you looking for?” or “How would you like to spend your day at work?” provides room for rich discussion — and may not require a change of job after all.

Ajax agrees that we had near-perfect conditions on the hike up to Melakwa Lake on October 18, 2022.
Ajax agrees that we had near-perfect conditions on the hike up to Melakwa Lake on October 18, 2022.

Descending into the Smoke

We had both lakes entirely to ourselves. Unless you count the pair of chipmunks that made Ajax drool for fifteen minutes. As we made our way from Upper to Lower lake, a light breeze stirred, providing us with pleasant relief on an unseasonably warm October day. The levels of both rich emerald-green lakes were lower than usual, and the log jam we crossed to access Lower Lake was bone dry. The Cascade Mountains desperately need rain!

As we descended from Hemlock Pass, we caught our first whiff of smoke. It grew progressively worse, until the haze surrounded us. The breezes must have caused the smoke from fires to the west of us, on the ridge above Snoqualmie, to fill the valley. While we were never in danger, the air quality went from good to unhealthy within hours. Instead of pausing to soak our feet at the Denny Creek Water Slide, we continued directly to the car.

One last photo of colorful maples and a blue sky. In the right of the picture is the start of a smog layer that filled the valley and dried out our throats. But it was worth it.
One last photo of colorful maples and a blue sky. In the right of the picture is the start of a smog layer that filled the valley and dried out our throats. But it was worth it.

Take-Away: Quality First

My biggest takeaway from this hike, besides gratitude for the hours of clean air, is about appreciating the quality of good questions. It’s important to ask questions the right way because the multiverse will try to answer you. If you ask, “Why can’t I get this?” you’ll find the answer in the form of an excuse. If, instead, you ask, “What can I learn from this experience?” or “What might I try differently next time?” the answer will be much more instructive.

What is your experience with questions? How might you rephrase questions in the future to be more productive, more loving, and more supportive? Share in the Blog comments. We love to hear from readers.

How to Rewrite the Past for a Better Future

This week I’ve been reflecting on what 2022 means to me. This year marks two significant milestones: the thirty-year anniversary of completing my graduate degree at UW, and ten-year anniversary of Emily Day (our first family dog). But such thoughts conjure loss and sadness. Could I find a way to rewrite the past for a better future?

Emily on June 28, 2012. Her health had taken a nose dive at age 12.5 and we knew we had to say goodbye. We spent the morning of "Emily Day" celebrating her life by taking her on a car ride, providing her steak for lunch, and doling out huge dollops of love.
Emily on June 28, 2012. Her health had taken a nose dive at age 12.5 and we knew we had to say goodbye. We spent the morning of “Emily Day” celebrating her life by taking her on a car ride, providing her steak for lunch, and doling out huge dollops of love.

Finishing Graduate School, Joining Mountaineers

When I moved to Seattle in the fall of 1990, I had two large goals: to climb Mt. Rainier and to get a graduate degree from UW. I completed the first in May 1991 and the second in June 1992. To me, finishing school marked the end of a long but familiar chapter of my life. I knew how to be a student. But supporting myself seemed intimidating. While I figured out my next steps, I joined the Mountaineers in October 1992.

Flash forward thirty years. This week, I wrote a personal essay for the Mountaineers Magazine celebrating three decades of membership. I got to thinking: What if I reframed 1992 as the start of my life of outdoor adventure, something that carries energy and positivity?

A visit to UW Campus in March 2022, celebrating the cherry blossoms. The "prospective students information day" for my daughter couldn't have been timed any better.
A visit to UW Campus in March 2022, celebrating the cherry blossoms. The “prospective students information day” for my daughter couldn’t have been timed any better.

In my essay, I outlined how The Mountaineers has impacted me. It provides social connections, recreational fun, and adventures around the globe. I also find professional opportunities for writing, teaching, and coaching, and a way to enrich my family’s life. Reframing that year as a beginning, not an end, carries more power. Rewritten, 1992 was the year I committed to following my bliss and connecting with the natural world.

Rewrite the Past: Goodbye to a Pet, Hello to a Passion

Likewise, for a decade I’ve been remembering 2012 as the year Emily died. It took three years before we considered getting another dog. In August 2012, I received a postcard about Write on the Sound (WOTS), a small conference in Edmonds. I needed something to help me get over my grief and move forward again. Maybe formally studying the craft of writing could help.

I attended three full days of workshops and classes, grieving and crying between them. Two sessions stood out. One was about writing picture books for kids; the other was about dream interpretation. Both had a profound impact on me and have shaped me into the writer I am today.

Our daughter says her last goodbye to Emily before heading into the Zoo for summer day camp.
Our daughter says her last goodbye to Emily before heading into the Zoo for summer day camp.

Flash forward ten years. Last weekend marked a decade of attending WOTS. For the past four, I’ve helped run the conference as a member of the steering committee. In 2012, I never could have imagined standing here today: a member of two writers’ critique groups, a blog writer, and a conference co-host, teaching others how to find their unique voices and get unstuck. Could I reframe 2012 as the start of a glorious, challenging return to the world of writing?

Rewrite the Past: Surprising Writing Tips

Of all the wonderful sessions at last weekend’s conference, Shawn Wong, the Sunday plenary speaker, surprised me the most. A teacher at UW for 38 years, Wong moved the Zoom audience to tears with his stories about working with military vets through the Red Badge project. His advice to writers was threefold:

  • Write the truth, not just the facts
  • You can’t change the past, but you can change the message of the event
  • Writing should show what you are trying to learn, not what you already know
WOTS participants in 2019 enjoy lunch and conversation on a glorious fall day in Edmonds.
WOTS participants in 2019 enjoy lunch and conversation on a glorious fall day in Edmonds.

In this post, I am attempting to do all three. I am rewriting my interpretation of the past to be more positive. I now feel grateful for all that happened, good and bad, for I would not be who I am today without the valleys and peaks, darkness and light. My new goal is to focus on those past events that propelled me forward. My blog evolved not because I have answers, but because I’m trying to learn more in order to help my clients and readers.

Try It: Reframe Your Past for a Better Future

If you have followed my blog for a while, you may remember a previous post about reframing self-talk for greater positive gains. Rewriting narratives about your past does something similar. It gives you back control over what the past means to you.

Try This:

What story are you telling yourself that makes you sad?

What were some of the positives that came from experiencing that event? If you went through a divorce, for example, can you focus on the opportunities that followed or on what you learned from it?

Can you focus on the happy memories or life lessons a person taught you who might no longer be with us?

If you are working through the pain of an empty nest, could you look for ways to celebrate your new freedom or new ways to connect with your grown children?

Rewrite the past using reframing: I am grateful for the pain in my life -- including 9/11, the death of Emily, and COVID -- so that I could appreciate all the many joys including my dog Ajax, my lovely college daughter, my husband, my clients, and my blog readers.
Rewrite the past using reframing: I am grateful for the pain in my life — including 9/11, the death of Emily, and COVID — so that I could appreciate all the many joys including my dog Ajax, my lovely college daughter, my husband, my clients, and my blog readers.

If you struggle to rewrite any of your past hurts, please comment in the box below or contact me privately so that we might brainstorm possible ways to get past the pain and get you unstuck. I value and respect all comments and look forward to hearing from you. Rewrite those stories. Onward, upward, forward.

Walking Meditation: How to Enjoy Granite Mountain in Fall

Last Thursday, Ajax and I headed for Exit 47, one of my favorite hiking locations during the pandemic. We’d last hiked to Granite Mountain in August of 2021. The muggy, buggy, smoky hike had me questioning whether I’d made the right choice. There was no question this time. A momentary lull between forest fires meant crisp, clear air, fog, and low clouds. My daughter had successfully completed her first day of college classes. I had some downtime between clients. My husband had a full day of work. So, I seized some quiet time to reflect, move, and hopefully see a few views. What resulted was a beautiful walking meditation among the lovely fall foliage.

Thick fog blankets the avalanche chute as we made our way up Granite Mountain switchbacks.
Thick fog blankets the avalanche chute as we made our way up Granite Mountain switchbacks.

What is Walking Meditation?

My own form of “walking meditation” is different from popular literature. My definition incorporates the following elements from forays into forest bathing.

  • Feel the sensations of each part of your foot from heel to toe. Notice any hot spots or pebbles.
  • Walk with deliberate intention. Swing your arms freely. If you use a trekking pole, trade hands to stay in balance.
  • Let yourself notice the beauty surrounding you.
Sitka mountain ashes were absolutely stunning in their red and orange coats in the alpine meadows. Mother Nature's fall foliage has never been so beautiful.
Sitka mountain ashes were absolutely stunning in their red and orange coats in the alpine meadows. Mother Nature’s fall foliage has never been so beautiful.
  • Focus your attention on the breath, on a point in front of you, on sounds – pick one. It’s okay to shift, just notice when you do. Think of focus as a brain muscle that needs developing, like the heart needs cardiovascular training while the bones, tendons, joints, and ligaments need strength training.
  • Feel sensations of the breeze on your face, the cobwebs across the trail, the leaves under your feet, the sweat on your arms.
  • Notice when thoughts take over. Gently remind yourself that they are an interpretation in the present moment.
  • Release all “shoulds.”

Hiking Without Metrics

Whenever I hike with a human partner, I find I focus more on our conversation than on our surroundings. And as a trainer, I have been known to ask clients to track various aspects of their hikes including ascent time, moving time, elevation gain, and distance. This year, however, I hiked without a pedometer, Whoop strap, Oura ring, or GPS, to the surprise of some of my hiking partners. I always have my cell phone with me for emergencies, so I’m aware of the passage of time. But my focus is on staying comfortable. Moving how my body wants to (including dunking my feet). Enjoying whatever Mother Nature reveals. Being fully present at the moment, as much as possible.

Hiking buddy Ajax waits on the boulders in the avalanche gully.
Hiking buddy Ajax waits on the boulders in the avalanche gully.

Thoughts During the Ascent

For this walking meditation, we left the trailhead at 6:45 with only one person on the trail ahead of us. For the next few hours, we had the mountain all to ourselves. I had plenty of time to think. But some of my thoughts were rather unexpected. And they bumped all over the place, revealing my present state of mind.

Our walking meditation revealed Mother Nature's finest colors.
Our walking meditation revealed Mother Nature’s finest colors.

Everyone who is loving and human has (or will have) variations of these thoughts at some point in their lives. But walking meditation enables you to recognize them as thoughts and let them float by. I was not out there to solve anything, necessarily. I was out there to let myself be, thoughts and all. And hopefully come back grounded.

Alone: What Is Your Reaction to Solitude?

I also spent more time than I expected thinking about the survival reality series, Alone. My husband and I stumbled across season eight on Netflix several weeks ago, and it captivated us so strongly that we started watching previous seasons on the History channel.

What compels a person to leave their homes and families for an unknown period of time? at an unspecified location? with ten pieces of survival gear and no water or food? What do they discover about themselves in the wilderness, and what makes them tap out (quit the contest)? Some of the show’s participants last less than 24 hours. Would we run into bears on the mountain like the participants? What would I do if one of us got injured?

A bountiful array of colors filled the basin below Granite Mountain's summit.
A bountiful array of colors filled the basin below Granite Mountain’s summit.

How long would I last off-grid, in an area where there are cougars, bears, and wolves, without human contact? The answer? Probably about three days, which was how long I lasted last December before I insisted on getting home to my daughter, my husband, and my dog. Certainly not the months that winners endure. On this hike to Granite Mountain, I didn’t find answers to my musings. I found something better.

Walking Meditation: Nature Replaces Thoughts

Once we hiked past the forest switchbacks and started up the avalanche gully where the maples, blueberry and huckleberry bushes, and mountain ashes were turning color, the chatter in my mind finally stilled. Mother Nature captivated me with her beautiful artwork. The foliage was even more splendid than the previous week’s hike to Gem and Snow Lakes. Jaw-dropping colors at every turn demanded to be photographed. I obliged.

View looking east from the Lookout Tower on Granite Mountain. The summer "main trail" weaves through the basin in the center of the photo and eastbound I-90 can be seen behind the mountain far left.
View looking east from the Lookout Tower on Granite Mountain. The summer “main trail” weaves through the basin in the center of the photo and eastbound I-90 can be seen behind the mountain far left.

When we reached the summit at 9:30, we enjoyed it for over half an hour, all to ourselves. I jotted down thoughts and ideas I’d had during our hike in my journal. I recalled the nasty mosquitoes I’d had to fight off the previous August and starred in the margin, “Shoulder season on Granite Mountain – NO BUGS, no people, A-MA-ZING colors.”

Musings on the Descent

On the way down, my thoughts traveled along a much different path. No need to worry about bears with hikers giggling and chattering loudly on the way up. But instead of getting annoyed, I felt relieved. I was not a contestant on Alone, after all. There were humans around me. Not many, but enough. I’d had my “me time” and felt ready to rejoin civilization. I didn’t have answers, but I was newly grounded. Nature’s beauty healed something within and gave me courage and fortitude to face whatever obstacles come next. I was right where I needed to be, both on the trail and in my life.

Ajax on the trail through Granite's alpine meadow.
Ajax on the trail through Granite’s alpine meadow.

How does hiking change you? Does it challenge, frustrate, or ground you? How? Please share your insights, reactions, or comments below. We love hearing from readers.

How to Savor Moments: Lessons from Kenai Fjords

For the middle part of our 12-day Alaska vacation, we left Denali National Park and drove six hours south to Seward, AK. Our primary adventure was an all-day boat tour with Major Marine Tours. We chose to visit Kenai Fjords National Park‘s Northwestern Fjord. Boat tours represent a “Venn diagram” (intersection) experience for us. We each have our own ideas for how best to savor moments. My husband wanted to photograph seabirds, including several we’d never seen before. I focus on marine mammals and glaciers. And my daughter loves to capture moments with her watercolors.

To savor Kenai Fjords, we enlisted the help of Major Marine Tours. Our destination: Northwestern Fjord 8.5 hours round trip out of Resurrection Bay, AK.
To savor Kenai Fjords, we enlisted the help of Major Marine Tours. Our destination: Northwestern Fjord 8.5 hours round trip out of Resurrection Bay, AK.

Visiting Kenai Fjords

Kenai Fjords National Park can be enjoyed in several ways. You can visit by air, which we chose not to investigate. By land, you can hike to the Exit Glacier Overlook or the Harding Icefield Trail. We chose to explore the Northwestern Fjord by Major Marine Tours’ 8.5-hour encounter. It provided us access to the widest variety of tidewater, piedmont, hanging, and cirque glaciers. It also would give us the best opportunity to spot the most seabirds and marine mammals.

Hanging Glacier in Resurrection Bay. The clouds added an eeriness to the cruise that made everything feel more rugged and wild.
Hanging Glacier in Resurrection Bay. The clouds added an eeriness to the cruise that made everything feel more rugged and wild.

Wildlife in Resurrection Bay

On August 30, under mostly cloudy skies, the water was about as calm as it ever gets, according to our tour crew. Nevertheless, recalling a miserable experience during a pelagic trip years earlier, I took a dose of Dramamine before boarding. The Orca Song is a 65-foot monohull boat outfitted for 128 passengers. As long as I stayed outside the main cabin, I felt fine.

A drowsy sea otter rests in Resurrection Bay.
A drowsy sea otter rests in Resurrection Bay.

As we made our way across Resurrection Bay, I kept my eyes on the many cirque glaciers (alpine ice fields high in the mountains) as each one has differing characteristics.

Our first wildlife spotting was a sea otter resting on its back, hind flippers in the air. We learned that they have two layers of incredibly dense fur, more than a million fibers per square inch, and are the only marine mammals without blubber to keep them warm. Another curious otter swam toward us, effortlessly. My husband stayed on the lookout for kittiwakes, tufted and horned puffins, bald eagles, and cormorants. I hoped to add seals, sea lions, and whales to our list of marine mammals.

Horned puffin taking flight.
A horned puffin takes flight. No matter how clumsy your attempt looks, if it works and moves you forward, use it.

Savor Moments: Spire Cove

As we moved out of Resurrection Bay toward Northwestern Fjords, we navigated closer to land. We spotted a pair of bald eagles, tufted and horned puffins, and cormorants, visiting both nesting and resting spots for birds and mammals. One unique stop was at a pretty area our captain called Cathedral Spires, but online was referred to as Spire Cove. I overheard one tour participant say it reminded her of Vietnam (where I’ve never been.)

How to Savor Moments: Lessons from Kenai Fjords
Cathedral Spires instilled quiet awe within me as we meandered carefully among these green-tipped knolls, reminding me of hoodoos in Bryce Canyon. They reminded me to take time to breathe, look around, and savor the moment.

Resting Sea Lions

Beyond Spire Coves, our captain led us to pull-out places to see seals and sea lions. On the leeward side, opposite the crashing surf of the Pacific Ocean, we enjoyed visiting dozens of sea lions pulled out resting with their pups. I marveled at what they found as suitable “beds,” as it looks to me like they could either roll into the water from the slopes or get jagged cuts in their blubbery hides.

How to Savor Moments: Lessons from Kenai Fjords

Savor Moments: Calving Tidewater Glaciers

As we made our way into the Northwestern Fjord, I remained outside taking photographs of a beautiful rainbow while most guests ate lunch. We visited one hanging and two tidewater glaciers. Their deep blue color was stunning. Chunks of ice floating in the water dwarfed several kayaks that dared to get close.

Two kayaks meander among the ice chunks, providing perspective as to just how much ice is tied up in these glaciers.
Two kayaks meander among the ice chunks, providing perspective as to just how much ice is tied up in these glaciers.

Once we were close enough, the captain silenced the engine for several minutes and safely positioned the boat so we could hear the groaning and moaning of the shifting ice. Rocks and ice tumbled from high on the glaciers and plunged into the sea, sending up clouds of ice dust and adding to the debris in the fjord. Nothing that would sink the Titanic, but we could certainly hear them clunking against the boat’s hull.

Author and teen daughter in front of the immense calving glaciers of Northwestern Fjord.
Author and teen daughter in front of the immense calving glaciers of Northwestern Fjord.

A steward pulled large chunks of ice into the boat and explained why glacier ice appears to be blue. Glacier ice is buried under many layers of ice and snow. The layers press the air out of the deep layers, causing ice to form large, dense crystals. These crystals scatter short-wave blue light, making deep layers of ice appear blue. But when large chunks of ice fall into the fjord, they look pretty much like we’d expect.

Our daughter holds a chunk of glacier ice that was saved and shaved for margaritas.
Our daughter holds a chunk of glacier ice that was rescued and shaved for margaritas.

Haul-outs for Seals

As we slowly retreated from the glaciers, we could see many years of compressed snow and ice floating in the fjord. On some of them, seal mothers pulled out to rest with their pups. We puttered slowly through the ice so as not to disturb the resting families. So adorable!

Glacier ice provides important rest pull-outs for seal mothers and their pups.
Glacier ice provides important rest pull-outs for seal mothers and their pups.

We learned that the average temperature within the park in late August and early September ranges from 37-44 degrees F. We’d brought wool hats, mittens, and our warmest coats specifically for the marine tour. Such attire allowed us to stay comfortable outside for hours despite overcast skies and ice surrounding us.

I didn’t envy the seals in such harsh, cold conditions, but then again, they have protective blubber insulation an inch thick, everywhere but their fins.

Mother seal and pup take a rest on a pull-out iceberg in Northwestern Fjord.
Mother seal and pup take a rest on a pull-out ice chunk in Northwestern Fjord.

Savor Moments: Orcas

Our last marine mammal sighting included two dozen Orca whales. In Washington pre-COVID, we used to go on whale-watching trips through Island Adventures several times a year. To see two resident pods in Alaska reminded me of everything we’ve missed during the past thirty months. In that small moment, I was reminded of all the good things we used to enjoy that we can finally do again. Another moment to savor.

Savor moments such as this. Embrace your family and community members like the two dozen Orcas we saw before finishing our one-day tour.
Savor moments such as this. Embrace your family and community members like the two dozen Orcas we saw before finishing our one-day tour.

Savor Moments: Take-Aways

A wise coach, Tama Kieves, this week asked, “How can you reframe losing into expanding?” How can we appreciate MORE those things that we lost, that we now have again, perhaps in a new way? Can we turn our losses into necessary teachable moments and move forward with our newfound resilience and wisdom?

The author, close-up and intimate with a waterfall near Resurrection Bay, AK. Whatever you desire, go after it with a whole heart. Trust your inner wisdom.
The author, close-up and intimate with a waterfall near Resurrection Bay, AK. Whatever you desire, go after it with a whole heart. Trust your inner wisdom.

While I will always have fond memories of the eight years that I volunteered at Woodland Park Zoo, nothing quite compares to appreciating wild animals in their natural environment. Major Marine Tours provided me with a very special birthday experience I will always remember. And reflecting provides us with ongoing lessons for growth and change if we allow ourselves time to stop and reflect.

What recent losses have you experienced that you can reframe into gains? Share them in the comments. I love to hear from readers and your comments help others grow, connect, and learn.

How to Learn from Alpine Autumn Changes

Since returning from Alaska, I’ve been eager to visit the Alpine Lakes region to see how autumn is progressing. Last week I learned that the trail to Snow and Gem Lakes has been repaired and reopened. So a friend and I decided to explore. I needed to process my daughter starting college (Convocation is today!) and hoped Mother Nature could provide solace from the tears. She provided the perfect metaphor for me to learn from alpine autumn changes. The lovely weather, beautiful fall colors, hidden blueberries, daunting challenge of a talus slope, and barefoot dip in Gem Lake paralleled my daughter’s own adventures at the University of Washington.

Ajax, T, and I enjoyed the overcast approach to Snow and Gem Lakes.
Ajax, T, and I enjoyed the overcast approach to Snow and Gem Lakes.

Perfect Conditions

At just after 8 a.m. on 9/23/22, the three of us headed up the trail. The forecast was for overcast skies, high 50’s, and a light breeze. Perfect hiking weather. Between conversations, my thoughts wandered to my daughter and what she might be doing on campus the weekend before her first quarter of college classes.

Fortunately, Mother Nature grounded me in the present moment. As soon as I spotted the first maples and Sitka mountain ashes in brilliant red and orange, I could only whip out my camera and search for more. Mission accomplished: beautiful colors. Absolutely breathtaking.

A brilliant maple, evidence of alpine autumn changes. Maples are common in Western MA, where I fell in love with their beauty in college. Our daughter visited Seattle's U. WA campus in May when the cherry blossoms were in full bloom.
A brilliant maple, evidence of alpine autumn changes. Maples are common in Western MA, where I fell in love with their beauty in college. Our daughter visited Seattle’s U. WA campus in May when the cherry blossoms were in full bloom.

As we returned to the cars hours later, the sun came out. It gently reminded me that my daughter will struggle and succeed. She will face stormy and sunny days, ups and downs. The only constant we face is change. Change in her living situation and growing independence. For me, coming to terms with the fact that she no longer needs me in the same way.

Our new role as parents of a college student is to support her, be a sounding board when she has questions, and let her assume an active role in navigating her college landscape. May there be as much beauty and a comparable road map for her journey as we had going to Snow and Gem Lakes.

A tarn (foreground) with the larger Snow Lake behind it, on our way back from Gem Lake.
A tarn (foreground) with the larger Snow Lake behind it, on our way back from Gem Lake.

Alpine Autumn Changes: Hidden Blueberries

We paused for a short rest stop at Snow Lake before continuing toward Gem Lake. I discovered we were in prime blueberry terrain. Score! I picked a few small ripe ones and was instantly rewarded with purple smudges on my fingers and a delicious burst of refreshing sweetness on my tongue.

A ripe wild blueberry dangles below reddening leaves, waiting to be picked.
A ripe wild blueberry dangles below reddening leaves, waiting to be picked.

The berries reminded me of a huckleberry hike to Mt. Catherine we did together as a family in 2021. The fruits were like hidden gems, shielded by the changing leaves. Similarly, I’m sure my daughter will find hidden gems at school if she stays on the lookout for them.

The week before University of Washington classes start, the college offers dozens of daily Dawg Daze activities. Sporting events, visits to the Zoo, and impromptu art gatherings. Foot races, movies, and pre-football game face painting.

Like me, my daughter is not much of a joiner, but I truly hope she finds a few tiny gems, moments with a friend here or sunrise there, a class she falls in love with, or a special location she visits repeatedly like Drumheller Fountain.

Uphill Climb of a Talus Slope

Just when I was convinced that “a little farther” would soon become “we’re here,” we faced the most intimidating part of the 11.3-mile hike. Our obstacle? A talus slope that seemed to swallow up the boot path. Momentarily discouraged, I waited for T. to catch up so she could have the final say.

The more we studied the slope, the more we realized that the path through the rocks was fairly level and crested not too far away. We decided we were so close, we might as well finish it up. And what a great decision it was. Other than the two gentlemen right behind us, we had the lake to ourselves and great views in every direction.

The final talus slope just about turned us around. Until we examined where the path went and decided it didn't look too bad. May my daughter, as a new university student, find her roadmap through the next four years and be as filled with excitement about the prospects as I was on reaching this slope.
The final talus slope just about turned us around. Until we examined where the path went and decided it didn’t look too bad. May my daughter, as a new university student, find her roadmap through the next four years and be as filled with excitement about the prospects as I was on reaching this slope.

The takeaway lesson for my daughter is to encourage her to persevere, even when the path is not apparent. To ask questions of those around you who might help. Collaborate. Gather more information. Then proceed, knowing you can always pause, turn around, or try something else.

Alpine Autumn Changes: Cold Dip in Gem Lake

The final lesson involves nurturing. I’ve developed a new hiking ritual this year. If my destination includes a lake, I take off my boots once I get there, so I can dunk my feet. Since we were visiting two lakes, I waited until we got to Gem, a lake I’ve never visited before. T took a pass, but Ajax joined me. It even looked like he wanted to go swimming.

The only constant in my life today is my faithful hiking companion, Ajax. How much longer will a 7-year-old dog be able to hike 12-15 miles? That, too, will eventually change.
The only constant in my life today is my faithful hiking companion, Ajax. How much longer will a 7-year-old dog be able to hike 12-15 miles? That, too, will eventually change.

Once again, I thought about my daughter and how she’s taking the plunge into a mighty big lake. The University of Washington admitted 7,000 first-year students this fall, 3.5 times more people than the whole of my own undergraduate experience. Talk about overwhelming! But if we can nurture her own process of finding courage, and support her to take tiny steps — maybe not her whole body at first, just her toes — she can gradually build her confidence that she can swim without sinking.

Final Words

Hokey though it may be, turning my hike experience into a life metaphor helped me feel better. It reminded me that change is a constant we can neither control nor prevent. What we CAN control is our mindset and attitude. The more I experience nature to stay grounded, centered, and connected to what matters most to me, the more gracefully I’ll handle this transition to an “empty nest.”

A final look at Snow Lake before we crested the pass and headed back to the car. Sometimes the path is more easily identified by looking backward than forward. May my daughter find a map forward to make looking back more fun.
A final look at Snow Lake before we crested the pass and headed back to the car. Sometimes the path is more easily identified by looking backward than forward. May my daughter find a map forward to make looking back more fun.

Can lessons from nature help YOU make some big changes this fall? Please share your thoughts in the comments below.