Seattle and the Olympia Penninsula, Urban Camping and Wild Backpacking

This year I decided to spend a lot of time with old friends, wherever they might be.  I stayed in a Never-Never land compound in the heart of Seattle, with a treehouse, massive fire pit, archery range, and lots of adventuring.  We rode bikes all over the city, explored rooftops, climbed into abandoned buildings, ate out of the glorious dumpsters, kayaked the city lakes, hung out naked on the beach, swam in terrifyingly toxic waters, screamed and cried into the roar of the highways. I sang praises over the mutated Blue Lettuce, St. Johns Wort, Butterfly Bush, Tumble Mustards, Blackberries, and roses, begging them to break the cement with the roots of their power.  


We danced sacred dances in dark bars amidst forgetting and the numb.  We marveled at the ghosts still living on the shores of the city, the First People villages still singing and fishing among the mansions and the ships.


Then we went to be among the ancient ones - the elders of the land - the old massive rooted light eaters, those who have stretched upwards and outwards for hundreds of years.  They live on the Olympia Peninsula, and we were blessed to walk among them for a short time.