WESTBERG TRAIL NEAR ELLENSBURG

 

WESTBERG TRAIL NEAR ELLENSBURG

When one has walked a long way to reach the turning in the path that discloses an anticipated view, and that view appears, there is always a vibration of the landscape. It is repeated in the walker’s body. The harmony of the two presences, like two strings in tune, each feeding off the vibration of the other, is like an endless relaunch.

           --Frédérick Gros, A Philosophy of Walking

The wrestling teacher at the high school

ran his wrestlers here, Phil says. This one’s

Hike of the Month for new Cascadians,

and I’m new. Phil says, I’ll sweep.

Stephanie will lead. If you go off trail

leave your pack by the side. Phil’s

in his 80s, and I’m the newbie, 78.

Karen doesn’t want me alone on trails.

Barry gave me the Walking book at coffee,

Notice the article, ‘A’, in the title.

I’m carrying 13 essentials, but don’t

include map or compass. Turn left on

Umtanum Road coming in to E-burg

drive past Irene Rinehart Park, drive

to Manastash Park in Wenas Wildlife Area.

Not much more than two miles to summit

looking over town and college, about

800 feet elevation gain. I finished

at the college here, when I came back

from Viet Nam, August, 1968,

Karen and I married in November,

looking back at January, 1969.

There’s the River we floated as newlyweds.

My first graduate class

with Irene Rinehart’s husband.

Karen got a job at the bank

after our son was born

and I couldn’t find a job.

Beauty in these barren hills.

Moisture brings out the odors.

Buckwheat flowers white, belong with Knotweed,

not wheat at all, related to sorrel and rhubarb.

An everyday hike for Ellensburg people.

Looking back remembering some

who switched out bewilderment for vision.

I’m taking notes on Sunday’s church bulletin

as we walk, Edge-Walking. Borde/Sendero.

written alongside Psalm 145,

I will exalt you, my God, and praise your name.

I’ve got a new name, too, Edge Walker,

one I share with others, and my translation

into Spanish, Borde/Sendero, hyphenated.

Chama, my Argentinian friend says,

You can’t put two nouns together in Spanish.

We’re reading Borges together.

It’s a thin trail, but more than animal tracks.

Borde at the edge. Sendero both walker and trail.

Liminal existence, Chama, We stop for water.

On a scrap of paper I write Borde/Sendero.

More than a trail name. A Blessingway

from the Diné, Navajo. Walking as we walk.

Looking back into the town, I’m searching

for something more—the man

who became the Godfather of our daughters.

Edge walker is the name given to me by friends,

borde, lugar fértil, rico en diversidad.

Thin, delgado. Walking, caminando.

A post at the summit surrounded by rocks.

Someone’s pinned a photo of Guadalupe,

an ammo box placed under a bush

with a notebook for hikers to sign, includes

a shot glass and playing cards.

How one gets anywhere.

Ways of accompaniment.

Ones I carry weigh nothing.

How I was carried. These trekking poles

adjust for the way down, absorbing

the body, turns me into a four-legged.

This solitary walking with others.

Jim Bodeen

26-29 September 2023