Right about the time of morning when the buzz of the working sunrise dies down, I pack up the camera, and finally take a slow moment to breathe in the landscape with my own two eyes. And right about the time I really start craving a cup of coffee.
snow's river's calming, rocks by the water singing-- July's light blue sky!
Nine-Stream is named, like most streams in the Olympics, by explorers. The trail there is, well traveled—the old road of those first white-skins, a path hoping for the mountains' heart. The peaks are sandstone here, not granite like the Rockies. It's softer—box canyons carved even in thick forest. On a summer day, the wet of winter's rain still obvious.
