Over the hills where the spirits fly | Field notes from the Pacific coast

William Pearse | pinklightsabre

Breaking camp at Mosquito Creek, dawn (May 2017)

It’s almost over, second-to-last post! This is a series I started in late May and have published daily for 36 days now. It’s inspired by a three-day solo trek on the Washington coast, with side-story memoir scenes wrapped by a few themes. I’m writing each post live, pulling in stories I’ve drafted before or I’m writing for the first time, for this project. You can come and go (it’s non-linear) or start at the beginning here, which is really the end.

On the Washington peninsula it’s a bunch of no-name towns on the way to Aberdeen, towns like Elma and Oakville, Forks, Montesano…everything thins out, slows down, and it’s like clockwork once you get to Kalaloch, the fog kicks in, bleaches the trees and highways to gray and green, Scotch broom yellow. I was nodding off, caught myself at the…

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