Ne frustra vixisse videar.

I lived, because living became my Fate,
Ordained to walk the face of Mother Earth,
To sweat, toil, labour, something to create,
To love truly… for whatever ‘twas worth …
Instead of insight I collected thorns,
Clawing, tearing the fabric of my heart,
I tried planting wisdom yielding acorns,
Yet I never managed to become smart.
It will not be long before I depart
- Time will be up, with near nothing achieved -
To my Creator to return my heart
N’er my tortured soul that so often grieved.
My soul got tainted with un-wished for stain;
But let me not seem to have lived in vain.

© 2008 P.J Oszmann

The Latin phrase is generally attributed to the sixteenth century astronomer Tycho Brahe who - reputedly - uttered them to Johannes Kepler near his own death. The photo is of the Helix Nebula (and commonly referred to as the 'Eye of God' Nebula) located in the constellation Aquarius about 700 light years from Earth.

tradition.

"So are we going to make this a tradition?" Julian asked, his toes numb after crawling into sleeping bags to warm up. "Well, this is the second year in a row we've done this so I say 'yes'," I replied back. "No no not just snow camping but at this secret spot we've found?" "Of course, that's part of it."

Last year I found this little place above Reflection Lakes and the crowds, a small level spot at the bottom of a bigger hill that we planned on using to sled down. We had a great view of Rainier across the lake and Mazama Ridge and back to Castle and Pinnacle Peaks (J's first climb). It was perfect.

***

So I grew up with traditions. Trying to think of some now. Oh, Friday nights when we would order take-out pizza from Pizza Hut my dad would ask who wanted to come and if the spot wasn't already spoken for I would go just to be able to put the pizza on my lap so my jeans would get all soggy from the moisture. Opening Christmas presents. We all took a turn, opening one present at a time, so we could see what everyone else got and make the process take longer. Each Christmas Eve going around the neighborhood checking out all the other houses and their lights to vote on what we thought should win the coveted Best Display award for that year. And lots of others.

And so I have instilled the whole tradition deal with Julian. On our birthdays we go for a bikeride. The rules are a) birthday boy chooses but b) it cannot be somewhere we have already gone biking. We watch the movie Polar Express and read the book every Christmas. We go camping at a particular spot in the North Cascades every June. We take a week in summer to make memories by roadtripping somewhere (the way I traveled growing up with my family).

And apparently now we go snow camping at our secret spot under Mt. Rainier every winter.

***

This time it started out a little differently, if only because it was so nice here at home. A string of warm, sunny weather in February sealed the deal for a snow camping trip this past weekend. And so we were off around noon on Saturday, me having finished (well, mostly) packing the night before. I was excited to again pack for an overnight trip into the mountains. It had been awhile. Last October, actually. We bring a sled, which hauls our gear and that I strap to my climbing harness with some sewn runners to drag behind me on the 2-mile trip to our spot.

Much to J's delight, we stopped at Subway (for some reason it's currently his favourite place to eat) in Eatonville for lunch then headed the rest of the way to the park and where we'd leave Stuart waiting for us to return the next day. We changed in the car, then took off up the avalanche slope above Narada Falls. No need to go around when you can just go straight up, right? Except towing a sled with I don't know how many pounds of gear made it a bit more of a challenge but we were up it in about fifteen minutes probably and then on the slog along the Ohanapecosh Road towards the lake.

We passed folks heading back since it was getting to be about 3 in the afternoon. I heard Julian say 'hello' to them all in his cheery way which I think surprises some. Wow, a kid out here actually enjoying himself and not having been dragged by his parents or something I don't know. Once we reached the lake, I could apparently still pick out the spot from down below just walking along the road. A certain tree standing out against a snowy hillside behind it and we headed up. Another quick grunt with the sled in tow found us on the little ledge at the base of our hill overlooking the lake. I got to work and Julian went off to play.

After clearing a flat spot with the combination of a shovel and snow saw I was able to pitch our tent. Julian in the meantime had discovered that the snow was too hard and crusty to really sled ride. He tried it sans sled and got moving so fast I had to catch him to keep him from flying over the edge into the trees below. This week of clear weather warm days and cool nights had frozen the snow into a sheet of ice. "We'll find a hill or something to sled ride on the way back" I promised him, which seemed to work cos then he was off to build a snow cave while I prepared dinner (his favourite ... Ramen ... and I mean that seriously this kid loves it when camping).

We ate quickly while the sun started to set. I pointed east to just above the top of the hill behind us. Mars. Then we each set up our cameras on the hill looking towards Rainier mine on a tripod his little Gorilla Pod strapped to our snow shovel and we took some photos of the mountain as it turned pink with the setting sun and the shadows draped further and further across the lake and the trees along Mazama Ridge. Before it got completely dark, I took the tripod and found a spot above our tent to try to shoot it glowing from the lantern inside with Rainier in the background. Julian popped out of his snow cave to come over and see what I was doing. I showed him the settings, teaching him more about photography each time we go out. It's cool he enjoys it.

Then we sat on the snow in the dark letting our eyes adjust to the moonlight and the stars. The half-moon cast shadows on the ice. I told him how I thought it good to get out like this to remind us of all we have. A home. With a furnace. Warmth, food, comfort. It was bitingly cold outside clear and crisp this February evening. Wow. Orion. Cassiopeia. The Big Dipper. The moon washed out the Milky Way but cast an incredible glow on Rainier so we could easily make it out in the dark. Julian took off back into his snow cave and I walked off a ways to stand in the night cold freezing cold just staring at the mountain (or The Mountain as some tend to think of it though I must admit a personal affinity much more for certain peaks in the North Cascades than this one they call Rainier). I saw headlamps sparkle high up on the Kautz Glacier and shouted for Julian to see. Then some more on the Muir snowfield. There were climbers up there all right. Must be even colder another mile higher.

Then we crawled into the tent. The lantern is a comfort but it was still cold. We spent some time just warming up after I brewed us some hot chocolate by boiling snow. We changed into warm, dry clothes and settled down for a round of über-mini Uno. I can't remember who won. Around nine we were tired. I turned off the lantern and we went to sleep. It was quiet. We'd find a hill to sled ride on the way back I reminded J (we did, and it was a blast). We'd make this a tradition we both agreed (we will, and it will be a blast).

one perfect sunrise [for real].

So during a rather fantastic run one evening last week I was thinking to myself about sunrises and I remembered this one. Fortunately, I took a picture of it. J and I had taken Kathy and Annette backpacking last time they were here up to one of our favourite places. Headlight Basin underneath Mt. Stuart. In October. It is one of my favourite hikes the one to Ingalls Lake the larch at this time a bit past their prime but still glowing and nothing too terribly difficult for a couple of newcomers to the idea of hauling your stuff in a pack strapped to your back up a trail to crash on the ground in a tent in the freezing cold.

A late start to the day so we didn't get to the trailhead and start moving until something like 3 or 4 a little slower than usual up the trail patience for them me having to keep telling J to slow down, slow down it more or less dark by the time we reached Ingalls Pass so no real view to Stuart. It would have to wait for the morning. Then trying to find a place to pitch our two tents in the dark me stumbling into others' campsites asking if the place was full until we found something near the edge of where Headlight Basin drops down into the Ingalls Creek valley. We pitched our tents, giving Kathy and Annette the one on the ground and Julian and I took the one on the snow. We had done this before. We didn't mind. Hungry, I cranked up the stove and sat smiling at the sound of the whirring flame and boiling water and we huddled around a pot of piping hot ramen basking in the steaming goodness the night cold and dark but perfect around us. Afterwards, Annette crashed in the tent. Kathy, J and I sat outside awhile marveling at the Milky Way overhead picking out constellations talking about the mythology behind them a terribly crisp and cold perfect autumn night clear as could be our breaths frozen suspended in the air above us. We could see the dark shadow mass of Stuart rising just to the south of us, imposing and reassuring at the same time me excited to see it for real come morning.

And then morning came. Where we were camped was open to the east, so the sun streamed in and washed across Headlight Basin warming it more and more with each passing minute. We were up with it, J running around the granite of the basin climbing over here and over there. Bundled up I sat on a rock watching him, watching the sunrise, just gazing at Stuart. Kathy wandered over and we talked a while about this and that. We don't see each other much.

It really was one perfect sunrise.

And there have been others. I think to myself. Camped under the granite rocks of the Hidden Lake peaks above the lake the bugs just starting to stir but open to the east like Headlight the sun streaming in after another perfectly clear and crisp autumn night of putting on glasses to stare up at the Milky Way tucked away inside my down bag and bivy eating an orange and some cereal for breakfast. Perfect. Up high bivied under the summit of Sahale above the clouds clinging to the valleys and the glacier below us basking in the warmth welcoming the light of another day in the mountains. Perfect. In The Enchantments, expecting grey and clouds etching the frost off my tent's window to witness the surprise of a rising sun coming up over McLellan Peak and lighting up the larch and letting all the water come to life shimmering in its radiance and warmth. Perfect. Out in the open no tent just our sleeping bags tossed on the dusty earth another fall morning this time in the middle of the Utah desert on the edge of the Goosenecks of the San Juan River carving its way to the Pacific. Perfect. We could see the shapes of Monument Valley now far to the south jutting up into the horizon it was warm cos even though it was October it was afterall southern Utah. We had gotten there at night much like our trip to Headlight so had no sense of our surroundings except that it was flat and we could see a billion billion stars, so the sunrise welcomed us with a sense of wonder of where we were (and for whatever reason that is still one of my favourite photos I have ever taken). Another sunrise me up before it the light pale and purple and pink freezing cold winter this time to walk along the South Rim of the Grand Canyon crunching on frozen snow and watch and wait and witness as the sun came up to the east casting long shadows among all the creases and folds of the canyon incredible listening to Moby on headphones. Perfect.

There is something magical about a sunrise.

I tend to forget this, being one to more likely stay up late than wake early. But particularly magical are these memories of mine either alone or with someone else witnessing a perfect sunrise. Another day. Purpose. Intentional. Simple. Essential. What will I accomplish today?