Baker and his Goliaths

BELLINGHAM, Wash. – We were driving north, then east, out of Bellingham. The path is the Mount Baker Highway.  At 57 miles long, it’s the only direct highway to the broad-shouldered mountain that reigns over Bellingham’s eastern views – a stern, white-clad companion of all who live below.

It’s not unusual to hear locals remark on any given day, “There’s Baker … looks pretty good today!”  Or, “Yeah, there he is … just above the clouds.”

Like he might go missing if they aren’t careful.

We were on the highway – Route 542, actually – in search of a wedding location.  And it’s the might of Mount Baker that seemed to pull us along.  I’m reminded of that scene in “Close Encounters of the Third Kind,” when Richard Dreyfuss and others are pulled toward Devils Tower in Wyoming, only to find revelation on its other side.

Mount Baker has that power. 

I’ve noted in previous blogs that Meghan and Eric have been hunting for a wedding site for a while now.  They’ve ruled out a ceremony on Deception Island south of Bellingham, as well as an out-of-the-way place near the island but along Washington’s rocky coast. 

The logistics of providing maritime travel to either location – to make sure everyone arrived on time, and in dry clothes – proved daunting.  Plus there was the risk of seals barking and slapping their flippers during the wedding vows.

“I, Meg… (SLAP!) take you Er… (ARRCK-ARRCK! SLAP!) to be my wedded hus…(SLAP!) ….”

But Mount Baker is different.  For one, the footing is solid from start to finish.  Second, as the drive east along 542 attests, it provides travelers a gradual review of all that is beautiful here. It begins in the flat lands of farms and small towns, then quickly climbs into steep hills of ferns and towering trees … a winding, elevated path of deepest green.

Nooksack Falls

The highway follows along the swift-running Nooksack River.  Not to belabor film trivia, but some of the hunting scenes for “The Deer Hunter” were filmed at Nooksack Falls, a rocky outcropping on the Nooksack’s North Fork, where the water is split sharply into two roaring, silver-white channels that tumble 88 feet into foam below.

Many years ago, engineers turned that elevation difference into a powerful source of electricity.  Remnants of that generating station, plus the huge pipes that conveyed the water, remain.

The Nooksack moves fast, of course, because it is funneling the vast snowmelt from Baker along its narrow chute.

What’s compelling, though, is the contrast of the Nooksack’s throaty roar and the forest’s quiet. As we soon learn on this trip.

I won’t try to explain what is driving Meghan and Eric to find a unique wedding site.  That’s for them to share, assuming they even want to.  But I know it is heartfelt … a reflection of the deep love and respect they have as geologists for the marvelous, rich terrain that is Washington.

So I wasn’t surprised when we headed to the mountain to find the sacred site, or that we eventually pulled off Route 542 at around Mile 40, to a small clearing alongside the road.  These clearings pop up on occasion along the highway.  I learned quickly that they are clues to nearby paths into the woods.

Finding these paths is not necessarily easy.  The plant growth along the road’s edge is so thick that you have to lift a branch, or divide a hedge of ferns, before you see a discernible trail.  And even then, the path looks like it might go nowhere.

We eventually followed one into an old-growth forest, though.  And just yards from the road, all sounds turned to whispers.  Even the soft calls of birds seemed swallowed by the thick floor of ferns and the moss drapery hanging from nearby trees.

Ahead, like 100-foot Goliaths, stood muscular firs and cedars, each with a girth of three elephants. And further ahead, we saw why this path was here.  For there was a Goliath now fallen … a tree whose root expanse, exposed and in gnarly disarray, was at least 40 feet wide.

It lay flat.  Though that’s hardly true.  Even on its back, this tree was more than 10 feet tall.

We approached it like anyone would approach an elder, toppled giant … respectful, in awe, imagining the earthquake it caused, the massive groans and cracks and thunderous, final THUD! it let out as it died.  It must have deafened the birds, if only for a bit.   

Hikers see fallen trees all of the time. But now we felt like bit players in Nature’s own “Honey, I Shrunk the Kids.”   And so we climbed the beast … grabbed at its roots, pulled ourselves up, then walked along its incredible length. 

And we saw that this tree did what nothing else could – parted a clean, straight path of considerable length through the heaviest of Washington’s woods.

We were doubly captivated when we reached its top, saw where the path ended. Because there was this fellow’s last branch – how, for countless years, he had touched the sky.

Would that we could do the same.

Humbled, we carefully climbed back down and made our way to the road.

I won’t offer much else about our day. It’s a bit of a secret. Just know that a wedding spot was eventually picked. The necessary authorities have approved. And no, it’s not at or near the fallen tree. It would have been a dubious symbol anyway. 

The site, though, is blessed with the quietness of a church, the grandeur of a cathedral, and legions of deeply rooted ancients who, like the angels themselves, will witness the beauty of this brief moment in history.

As it should be.