Spontaneous Joy

When I was in my late twenties a friend and I went backpacking out to the coast in Olympic National Park. We parked at Lake Ozette and took the trail out to Sandpoint, about three miles mostly on boardwalk over bogs and dips in the forest. We camped at Sandpoint for one night and then hiked to another beach three miles south called Yellow Banks where we spent another three nights. On one walk, a pair of sea otters ran past us on the beach, bumping into each other playfully. We saw eagles, deer and raccoons, and one night a spotted skunk joined us at our campfire. This was August and the days rolled away like the morning fog lifting off the ocean, clearing away to brilliant blue afternoons of sun and surf. We lost track of clock time and fell into earth time: the tide was either in or out, coming in, or going out. But we did not lose track of the days.

On Sunday we watched a steady line of hikers going by, heading back to their lives. They hurried northward up the beach toward Sandpoint, Cape Alava and the trails back to the ranger station and parking area at Lake Ozette. By late Sunday afternoon, all the hikers had disappeared and we had the entire beach to ourselves. We stripped down and ran naked into the surf, laughing and splashing through the water with the warm sun on our skin. I’ll never forget the spontaneous joy of feeling safe enough to be naked under the sun, and young and strong enough to run on the beach, free and full of life.