Remembering Church Mountain

The older I get it seems that the memories of the past become reminders of good times and fodder for personal reflection.  Such are my memories of Church Mountain, a relatively small and insignificant mountain tucked in among the thousands of peaks in the Cascade Range of northwestern Washington state.   

 

The summer of 1961, following my freshman year of college, I got a summer job with the U.S. Forest Service in the Mount Baker National Forest, based at the District Ranger Station in Glacier, Washington.  The first couple of weeks, the Chief Ranger assigned the three "college boys" to working at odd jobs around the shop, campgrounds and ranger station. Seasonal employees shared a bunkhouse for leisure and sleeping, but we took our meals at the nearby Church Mountain lodge. The third week, all the seasonal employees and a half dozen year-round workers spent the week in a neighboring district training at the annual “Fire School.” There we learned the skills needed to put out fires, use fire fighting tools, read maps, and plot coordinates on an Osborne Fire Finder.  Upon our return to the Glacier District, I was assigned to man a “Fire Lookout Station” for the rest of the summer; my lookout was perched atop 6,315 ft. Church Mountain.

 

Here is a view of Church Mountain from valley floor near Glacier, Washington

The only way to reach the Church Mountain Lookout was by a 5-mile trail that began at the end of a gravel logging road.  The first three miles of the trail passed through mature Douglas Fir forest with trees towering over 150 feet high.  The last two miles of trail rose above the tree line; cutting across a high meadow forming the base of a huge bowl that ran almost vertically to the ridge line of Church Mountain. 

July 5, 1961 was the day I moved to the lookout.  It is a day I will always remember.  Our small moving crew consisted of myself, another seasonal employee, Tennessee buddy, Bob Neal, three year-round district crewmen, and three pack horses.  The pack horses carried a summer's supply of kerosene for my cooking stove, some tools, batteries for the short-wave radio, my initial food supplies, a sleeping bag, and other personal gear.

The climb through the forested areas followed the switchback trail up the ridge and after about three miles the trail entered an open meadow. In early July, the meadow floor was bursting with new grass and thick blueberry bushes; but the creeks flowing full with melt water still had snow bridges covering the trail . We had to use our shovels to break down the snow bridges so the horses could cross on the rocky stream bed.




A portion of the meadow in late July... snow still hangs on the ridge line.



 As we entered the meadow, little furry "lookouts" from the colony of marmots populating the meadow constantly emitted shrill "whistles" to alert their cousins as we wound our way through the meadow. About half way across the meadow,  a snow squall hit us with wind and blowing snow.  As we ascended the final quarter mile of the trail it became so steep that we had to unload the horses and pack the supplies on our backs the last hundred yards to the lookout This required several round trips, but we finally got all the gear and equipment to the lookout.




The final ridge leading to the lookout summit. 

Look closely and you can see the outline of the lookout perched on the edge of Church Mountain's lower summit.

 About the time we reached the summit, the sun emerged and revealed the panorama of the Cascade Range to the north and east and spectacular Mt. Baker to our south.   At 10,781 feet, Mt. Baker is covered with a glacial cap and looms above every other peak in the area.

 

Mt. Baker as seen from the summit of Church Mountain

 

This was my first trip up Church Mountain Trail, but over the course of that summer I hiked the trail many times.  The trail became so familiar that I knew every turn, rock, and bump.  I hiked it in the fog and rain, as well as on beautiful clear days.  I learned where to look for ripe berries, flowers, the occasional bear or mule deer, grouse, and the ever present marmots.

The memories of that summer were indelibly imprinted in my mind.  They are as fresh today as they ever were, but it was not until some 21 years after that summer that I was able to return to Mt. Baker with my wife Becky and our two sons, Robert & Mike.  Over the intervening years I had often thought of the Church Mountain Trail with its spectaculat vistas and wanted to share that same hiking experience with my family.


During the summer of 1982 our family took a six week western tour, mostly camping in state and national parks.  We touched our northwestern most stop when we arrived in Glacier late one afternoon and set up camp in the North Nooksack River valley.  We could hardly wait until the next day.  Bright and early we headed up the old logging road leading to the beginning point for Church Mountain Trail.  As we neared the trail head I saw that the logging road extended further than I remembered and the once magnificent Douglas fir trees were all gone, harvested for timber years before our return.  It was so disappointing to see that the trail now traveled through young Douglas fir trees that stood only five to seven feet tall.  After hiking a couple of miles through these small trees, we reached the meadow and things began to look somewhat familiar, but on this particular year even the meadow was dramatically different.

The winter of 1981-82 in the Cascade Mountains had seen above normal snowfall and as we broke above the tree line and entered the meadow we found snow pack still four to five feet deep covering the meadows.  The snow obscured the creeks, the grass and blueberry bushes that grew in the meadows.  Hiking through the snow was tiring and as we reached the final quarter mile up the steepest part of the ridge, Becky and ten year old Mike decided to stop.  Robert and I continued on to the summit only to find another disappointment, the Church Mountain Lookout no longer existed.  It had been removed several years earlier. We learned later that the Forest Service had transitioned to spotting fires from light aircraft rather than using fixed base lookouts on mountain peaks. 

This is a view taken just a few years ago showing some hikers standing on the flat area where the old lookout was located back in my summer of 1961.  The view is looking west toward Bellingham, WA.

 

 

 

Despite my disappointment with the changes I'd found along Church Mountain Trail, the spectacular views from the top of Church Mountain had remained virtually unchanged.

 

View of Mt. Baker from another nearby peak.

 

Today, some 30+ years later, as I reflect on my disappointment on that return trip to the Church Mountain Trail I believe that experience has application to life’s spiritual journey. 

The things of life constantly change, not only the environment, but friends, the old home place, an old church, and on and on we could go.  A wise man said, “The only constant in life is change and you can count on that”.  The changes in the Church Mountain Trail were disappointing to me because I had wanted my family to experience the same trail I had enjoyed some 20 years earlier.  But guess what, my family was not disappointed because for them it was a “new trail” on that June day in 1982.  They had no basis for comparison, so they enjoyed the beauty and challenge of the trail as they experienced it on that day.  That day, my family was "looking forward" while I was "looking back."

 

The apostle Paul reminds us in his writings to the Philippian church that looking back and remembering the past is not as important in our faith walk as looking forward.   “No, dear brothers and sisters, I have not achieved it,^[a] but I focus on this one thing: Forgetting the past and looking forward to what lies ahead, ¹⁴ I press on to reach the end of the race and receive the heavenly prize for which God, through Christ Jesus, is calling us.” – (NLT) Philippians 4:13-14

Although the Church Mountain Trail had changed for me, the place it led us had not changed.  The trail took us to our mountain top goal and we were rewarded with spectacular views of Mt. Baker and the Cascade Range.

As I reflect on these memories from over fifty years ago I am again reminded that although  my life’s trail has constantly changed, God is constant; the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow. 

I do believe it's okay to remember the past; we just don't need to focus our life on those things that are behind us.  It is a much better thing to look forward to what's ahead, especially God’s call to salvation and our "heavenly prize" through Jesus Christ.

 

Now, let's look toward tomorrow and ramble!

 

In case you are wondering, this is what the U.S. Forest Service lookouts in the Mt. Baker National Forest looked like 50+ years ago.  This is actually the lookout on Winchester Mountain, a few miles east of Church Mountain.   My lookout appeared exactly the same, but this one had more flat ground to walk around on than my location on Church Mountain. My Tennessee buddy, Bob Neal, manned this lookout that summer.  He also had a good view of Mt. Baker in the background.

 

Making a Difference

Making a Difference

In researching our family genealogy over the past year, I’ve gained some insight into the lifestyles and behaviors of kinfolks who followed their own trails many years ago.  Some glimpses of their lives have made me proud that I have some of their DNA and a trace of their bloodline pulsing through my veins.  Others , simply occupy a branch on the family tree and there is just not much you can find to make you proud.  One woman who “made a difference” and makes our family proud is my wife’s paternal grandmother. 

Becky’s Grandmother Jessie was one of four children who were born out-of-wedlock.  Although family folklore identifies the man who was purportedly the father, there is no record that attests to his parental role, so all four kids carried their mother's family name. Grandmother Jessie was the oldest child of the four children.  She was born in 1890, with the other three born over the next eleven years.  Being the first born, Jessie was a first-hand witness to her sibling’s out-of-wedlock births and her mother’s on-again-off-again relationships with their father.  We have very little family lore to shed light on those growing up years for Jessie, but when she married and had her own family she always told her own children that she was ashamed of “the way she was born” and made a choice early in life to “not raise her family that way.”

Grandma Jessie married William Henry Watts and they had a long and productive marriage.  During their 60 year marriage, Jessie gave birth to 17 children, raising twelve who survived into adulthood.  The children were born over a twenty-seven year span with Becky’s dad, Ben, the oldest, born in 1909 and Lillian, the baby, born in 1932.  Grandmother Jessie determined early in the marriage that her family would live a Godly lifestyle, attend church, pray and read the Bible.  Apparently, quite a contrast to the type of home environment in which she was raised.   According to family lore, Will had been known to “drink a little” prior to their marriage and it was only when Jessie told him he’d have to “give up drinking” that she agreed to the marriage proposal.  Apparently he did give it up, stayed true to his promise and teamed with Jessie to raise an honest and honorable family.

Her children always spoke highly of their mother; she was the rock on which they built their lives. The family lived the meager life of the pre-post depression eras and for many years lived on subsistence farming and manual labor as the primary means of existence.   Never having enough to enjoy a surplus, but not starving; living in a four room house with two small sleeping rooms with three or four kids to a bed and some of the girls sharing their parent’s bed as well.  And what I find phenomenal is that some of the “girls in the family,” now in their 80’s, have told us that each night when everyone got into bed, Jessie would lead her family in saying aloud the Lord’s Prayer as a way to close out the day.

Having raised only two kids of our own, I find it almost unimaginable that Grandma Jessie could manage such a large household and still have the energy and presence of mind to have a family prayer when they all got into bed.

Grandpa Will died about the time Becky and I were married, but Grandma Jessie continued to live in their home place where she’d raised her nine girls and three boys.  We were fortunate to be able to visit with her numerous times during the early years of our marriage.  She was always glad to see us and loved to hold and love on our “baby” and any of her great grandchildren when she had opportunity to do so.  She had a kind and gentle spirit about her and sometimes when you’d drop in to visit she’d be sitting in her rocker by the window with an open Bible in her lap.

Grandma Jessie made a choice to “make a difference” in her own life and by so doing,  she made a difference in the lives of countless others.  She raised twelve children.  Each went on to marry and raise families of their own, giving her 45 grand children to love and enjoy. To the best of my knowledge, all her children had stable, moral, Godly families that reflected the teaching they received from their mother.  Being an only child and having only six first cousins, I was a bit overwhelmed when I attended my first Watts family reunion at Grandmother Jessie’s old home place, discovering that Becky had 45 first cousins, just on her dad’s side of the family.

Grandmother Jessie’s life was certainly a meager one by today’s standards.  Her children received no material inheritance of earthly value, but instead received the gifts of a mother’s love, a hope for the future, and a faith in God from a woman who chose to make a difference in her life.  I don’t remember if the minister used this scripture at her funeral, but if he did, he was right on target.

Proverbs 31 (Selected Verses) ¹⁰ Who can find a virtuous woman? for her price is far above rubies.  ¹¹ The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her, so that he shall have no need of spoil.  ¹² She will do him good and not evil all the days of her life.  …… ²⁵ Strength and honour are her clothing; and she shall rejoice in time to come.   ²⁶ She openeth her mouth with wisdom; and in her tongue is the law of kindness.  ²⁷ She looketh well to the ways of her household, and eateth not the bread of idleness.  ²⁸ Her children arise up, and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praiseth her.  ²⁹ Many daughters have done virtuously, but thou excellest them all.   ³⁰ Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain: but a woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised. (King James Version)

After reminiscing about Grandmother Jessie, I’d feel guilt if I felt too tired or too old to keep rambling, so……..

Now let’s ramble!

Realizing My Limits

Realizing My Limits  

My journeys along the outdoor trails have taught me that I have limits to what I can accomplish with my own power and energy. 

When I was around thirty years of age and backpacking with a heavy pack over a tough section of the Appalachian Trail, I hiked 21 miles one day; starting early and arriving at my camp site as the sun was setting.  I was totally exhausted and could hardly prepare a meal and set up a shelter before darkness closed in on my campsite. 

Some twenty years later, to celebrate my 50^th birthday I hiked the Grand Canyon accompanied by my youngest son and one of his buddies.  We planned the hike so that we could go down and out in one day, and we did.  But I have to admit, it is probably the nearest to total exhaustion I’ve ever been on the trail.  The extreme 115 degree heat at the bottom of the canyon and the arduous climb up Bright Angle Trail to the south rim pushed me to the limits of my physical and emotional strength.  Although I thought I was in good physical shape and prepared for each of these journeys, both situations helped me to realize that even with training, equipment and preparation, there are limits to what you can accomplish with your own strength.

Likewise, I’ve often attempt to make my way through daily life without the needed spiritual equipment for the journey.  I’ve sometimes reach the end of a day feeling exhausted, perhaps frustrated, or unfulfilled simply because I’d attempted every task in my own strength.  I’d failed to rely on God and failed to use the equipment He can provide.

If we rely only on self in our life journey we will find that we often reach the end of the day exhausted, "flat on our back" and unfulfilled.  We need God’s “spiritual equipment” to stay on track and finish the journey.  We need a tad more than just what the old physical body and brain can provide.  Ephesians 6 gives us a pretty good list of the “spiritual equipment” God can provide for us if we will accept it and use it.

Ephesians 6:13-15    ¹³ So use every piece of God’s armor to resist the enemy whenever he attacks, and when it is all over, you will still be standing up.

¹⁴ But to do this, you will need the strong belt of truth and the breastplate of God’s approval. ¹⁵ Wear shoes that are able to speed you on as you preach the Good News of peace with God. ¹⁶ In every battle you will need faith as your shield to stop the fiery arrows aimed at you by Satan. ¹⁷ And you will need the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit—which is the Word of God.

¹⁸ Pray all the time. Ask God for anything in line with the Holy Spirit’s wishes. Plead with him, reminding him of your needs, and keep praying earnestly for all Christians everywhere.

Lord, help me remember to get the right equipment before I “hit the trail” each day.

Now, let’s ramble!

Big World......Little Me

Big World …. Little Me

During my hiking and backpacking days there have been many places I’ve stood on the brink of expansive panoramas and realized how small I really was in comparison to the awesome size of the natural world. 

I remember backpacking solo on a section of the AT, headed south toward north Georgia.  I was taking a rest break on a broad mountain peak called Standing Indian.  It was a hot summer afternoon and as I looked into the distance, a blue sky seemed to roll on forever.  The trees and undergrowth along the trail were the mature deep green of summer, almost overpowering as it encroached on the trail.  There were no man made sounds to hear that summer afternoon, only the natural but powerful hum of thousands of small wings as the insects gathered pollen and nectar from the flowers in the dense vegetation.

As I observed this vast presentation of God’s creation I suddenly realized what a small speck I was in this vast and complicated scene.  God's creation is so big, the web so complex and I am so small; a speck of dust in the cosmos.  Once again I was reminded of David’s question to God in Psalm 8:3-5 “When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which thou hast ordained; ⁴What is man, that thou art mindful of him,  and the son of man, that thou visitest him? 

I'll be the first to admit that it is easy for us to become self absorbed, focusing only on what we need or want.  Our "feel good - be happy" society makes us think that we deserve it; we are the most important thing in the universe.  The challenge is to not fall victim to this mentality.

Even working around the yard or walking in the neighborhood I sometimes just stop and look up into the heavens; stopping to simply look up and consider the vastness of space.  Every time I do this I once again realize just how big God is and how small I am.  The simple exercise of looking up into a night sky or even a blue cloud-filled sky always grabs my attention, reducing the self-importance I sometimes feel.  It helps me refocus, giving me some perspective, keeping me on track for the journey along my spiritual trail. 

Take time today to look up; then you can ramble!