pedadidact

2010 March 4
Sol Duc Campground > Sol Duc falls
Distance hiked: 4 miles

To the conscientious person, over-sleeping is generally accompanied with a hangover of grief for having wasted good hours. Personally, I prefer seven per night, except when sick, and then eight or nine. But after hard physical work, one is especially inclined to adjust his standards for what is too much rest. No alarm was set for this day. I woke naturally eleven hours after passing out in Sol Duc.




The path to Sol Duc falls

"Naturally" is subject to definition. In fact, I was jolted to consciousness by an awful dream of being mugged for my bicycle in a desolate Port Angeles lot. As the assailant approached, probably with some jilted weapon like a screw driver or prison shiv, I recognized the dream for what it was and urged myself, You are not in a parking lot. You are alone in a rain forest in your tent. Wake up! And so I did.





Wanting something pleasant to fill my mind, I took up the Metrical Psalter and then the gospel of Mark. Following breakfast, and the realization of stiffness in my legs, I half-considered a sabbath day in camp. But then, seeing that I only intended one day in this location, I determined to make the most of it and hike to a nearby falls.





Sol Duc is an evergreen rain forest and easily amongst the most ideal landscapes I have walked both for verdant beauty and contemplative solitude. Hardly a bird or animal was to to be heard as I strolled a ribbon of gray gravel winding amidst hundred-foot Douglas firs, rust red and draped with thick coats of moss. The walls of forest were at points so dense as to be nearly black with impenetrable growth. But then this dark fabric of woodland canopy was woven in places with threads of silvery light pierced by a needle of afternoon sun.




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A rustic shelter near the falls provided a fine place to read and contemplate such themes as redemption, the revelation of God to men, and the nature of fallen Man. I noted to myself,

The flesh of which Paul speaks is not that which necessarily motivates men to intentionally violate God's law, which is rather indwelling sin working through the flesh; but is man's innate propensity towards self-identification. The result is an inclination to do as he wills, and being corrupt, the result is willful sin. When cowed by fears of God or the punishments of society, the flesh seeks to be approved on the basis of his own works before the law.

Where the flesh makes man his own representative, the spirit hides within the representative righteousness of Christ, finding in Christ's headship the basis for every act. The flesh says, "I shall do," while the spirit asks, "What shall Christ do in me?" Where the flesh has no power but self-interested will weakened by the corruptions of sin, the spirit receives power to obey from that Spirit of Christ who indwells. Flesh is man clutching his identity and has therefore no power than natural weakness, no resource but porous and putrefied humanity to draw from. Flesh looks to itself, to what it should, will, or can do. To be spiritual is to look no further than Christ, for what He has done, is doing, and shall do.

Aside from these deeper ruminations, I found moments in the afternoon to mull over a personal recipe for double-spicy peanuts:

16 oz. peanuts
1 tsp. fine granulated salt
1 juiced lime
5 oz. bottle Tapatio hot sauce

Mix in bowl, drain nuts over sieve letting excess return to bowl. Bake at 250 degrees until dry, then repeat process once more. Allow to cool .Enjoy thoroughly.

The evening was only a continuation of my ongoing march through biblical history with Vos.