Some people say that a walk in the woods is worth a Sunday in church. There are many ways to worship and find the spirit of the universe. In fact, a sermon I heard recently spoke to that very statement. God (or the spirit) is everywhere, in all of us. To those un-churched folks who seem to be in greater numbers in the northwest there must be something beneficial in a climate that doesn’t stress one out too often and where real trees are still decorated at the Christian season of Christmas.

Now don’t get me wrong. I am not a sun worshiper or a person who meditates very often. But there are times when my spirit comes alive and delight reigns. One of those times came about recently when my special friend and I took a picnic lunch to Cedar River which was aptly named as cedar trees proliferated along with alder fir, maple and cottonwood. I did not quite know what to expect but as we turned into a driveway my friend punched in a code and a gate opened, welcoming us to a tree lined road leading to another less techie gate which he opened manually. Then came the walk along a path that had been overgrown and finally we began our descent to the river bank along well constructed steps with a sturdy railing. And there at the bottom was the charming lean-to sheltering a picnic table and steps to a platform where we could sit and watch the fast moving river flow over rocks reflecting many tones of grey, white and ochre.

Across the river of fast flowing shallow water was the lovely tree-lined bank which once provided the railroad bed for a train that whistled its way beside the stream. No longer used by the railroad the tracks have become a lovely woodland trail where people meander at their leisure or walk their dogs. Without the whistles of train engines we could relax with only the call of birds or the faint sound of a distant airplane on its aerial path to Seatac Airport or Boeing Field.

A primitive fire pit provided warmth in the early part of the day and also supplied heat enough to warm the bacon for bacon-lettuce-and-tomato sandwiches

and to cook a wiener to supplement the meal that if eaten at home would have been more than plenty. Usually I am distracted by sounds but the soft gurgling of the waves bouncing about on the variety of rock shapes was like a lulling melody, making us oblivious to any stress we may have brought with us from the fast moving city, now seemingly very far away in our minds.

It was soon time to quench the flames of our warming fire with water carried up from the shallow river and as the last coal hissed its steamy breath, we collected our picnic gear and headed up the steep trail and back to civilization. Unless you have experienced the primitive nature of such a special place, you have not lived. This few hours without the sound of motors and the smell of exhaust will stay with me until I can experience it again. It will always be there even though another hundred year flood may wash out the bank again or topple the rock lined fire-pit. Change will take place. Trees will die and rot making way for newer trees. Maples will branch out and cover the view for a time before being pruned again. But the wonder of it all will remain.

Georgie Bright Kunkel is a freelance writer who can be reached at gnkunkel@comcast.net or 206-935-8663.