Return to Winter/Spring 2002-2003
Sharing an Adventure…
Michael O’Sullivan
It was two in the morning. I was in a tent, drifting in and out of sleep, while listening to the wind and rain and wondering if my backpack was getting soaked.
This was our second night out. We are on our way to the top of Kapok Peak, with four days to go during the West Coast annual back packing retreat in the northern Cascades. I’d signed on while visiting Providence Zen Center and talking with Zen Master Dae Kwang, and since then I’d lost some pounds and tried to build up some muscles, but still felt like fresh meat for the unknown.
On this hike, the rule was to be no cameras, no unscheduled talking, not even with other hikers who wanted to talk. I sometimes felt they were taken aback and suspicious when we didn’t converse with them.
That first day, backpacks on, we had begun our climb among the trees—some Douglas firs so tall they could have been skyscrapers, with pieces of mint green moss clinging to them like mini-goatees. The plan was to walk 30 minutes, then take a 10-minute rest. At that pace we reached our first campsite—a warm area full of vegetation—in about five hours.
But the following night, the environment had changed. When I finally rolled up my mat at 6 a.m., it was damp and cold. Still, we managed a one-hour sitting, then breakfast, before we filled our water bottles, strapped on our back packs and headed off on our climb to the meadows. We warmed up quickly with backpacks and steady climbing, and eventually reached a cool spot among the Douglas Firs—one, truly majestic, strong and untamed, with arms reaching out and roots reaching up, caressing itself, while only adding to its beauty. Zen Master Dae Kwang simply stood in front of it, with arms outstretched in awe.
We arrived at the meadows around lunch time and Mark prepared lunch: soup made from dehydrated and reconstituted lentils with chopped greens. Delicious.
Then we were off again, silently walking toward Kapok Peak, and I was thinking, “Well, we will get to the peak, then tomorrow will start the day trips with the light day pack.” That was about when the strap to my backpack broke. It seemed to be the loudest snap I’d ever heard. But the pros took charge and fixed it—temporarily, at least— with safety pins. When we arrived at the base of Kapok Peak, I didn’t want to look up, figuring it would just add to my fatigue.
Once we arrived at a camp site partway up, it was decided this was the best spot to set up for the night. It was getting cold and the wind was building up clouds. I was nauseous and the smell of food was getting to me. Zen Master Dae Kwang said that was from the altitude. We did our evening meditation on a ledge overlooking the valley below, with Mount Rainier in the distance. Then it started getting windy and the rain came down.
That night I was awake at 2 a.m., listening to the rain and wind. But by 5:45—clap – clap – clap—we all woke up and the damp weather was with us. We sat at the edge of the cliff, overlooking mountains and mist, while savoring the sweet smell of rain and vegetation. Next we were off to the extreme peak—no backpacks this time—about another mile up. What a site: peaks of all shapes and heights. The “Glacier Wilderness.” Wow!
Then we returned to our backpacks and began the hike down to a camp. After lunch we were off again, to the other side of the valley, then a climb to the top of Robins Peak. Later, we sat in a line and meditated for an hour, including a 10-minute walking meditation. Zen Master Dae Kwang pointed out all the bends and twists in the landscape. Across the valley you could see the Blue Lakes—one high up between two peaks, the other below on a magnificent plateau.
The next morning was cold and windy, but Mark managed to cook oatmeal. Zen Master Dae Kwang decided itwas too cold and rainy to sit, so we started hiking down in the rain, heading for the place we camped that first night. We were almost at the campsite, when Zen Master Dae Kwang asked Mark and me to get water. Just as we were ready to hike on, a group of women appeared and one asked, “Are you going up or did you just come down? We found some tent poles on the trail.” Sure enough they were ours. Thank you, thank you.
About two hours after we started on down the next morning, we stopped to have a circle talk. Everyone was really linked and had had a good experience. When Zen Master Dae Kwang gave his Dharma talk, he said that sometimes we attain something. Then he added, “But what good is it if you don’t share it? You must go out and help others.”
Several things happened to me on this trip whether it was intentional teaching or not, I accepted it as such, and absorbed every moment of it. The human, planet, animal, and insect interaction is spontaneous, rewarding – sometimes painful.
Each step is an adventure.