across the olympic mountains on flour soup and the occasional elk smorgasbord
Last night I finished Across the Olympic Mountains, The Press Expedition, 1889-90 by Robert L. Wood. Apologies to the esteemed Mr. Wood, my copy was tightly bound (for protection, no doubt) in ugly gray leather by the Seattle Public Library and so part of the cover is hidden from view and I’ve added a couple important letters here for the interested lookie-lous.
I’ll have a lot more to say about the Press Expedition as time goes on. I really enjoyed this book. Christie, Barnes, Sims, Hayes, Crumback: My hat’s off to you (speaking of which, in the course of their explorations they got rid of their hats as they deemed them unnecessary).
Adam, Oliver and I went for a long walk in the foggy, clammy morning to watch the Seattle Marathon where it goes through our neighborhood. We saw a lot of people in grunting-like-a-hippo-it-hurts-so-bad pain, running as if they had vise grips attached to their inner thighs. But I was impressed by how many happy marathoners we encountered. Lots of schoolteacher-types beamed when they saw Adam and said things like “you should join the race, young man!” or “i love your hat, sweetie pie!”. And it’s always surprising to me how many “regular-looking” people you see, even though I know intellectually there are plenty of people who enter marathons for just the personal challenge and not to compete with others. It makes me want to train and see if I could physically and mentally endure. Of course, I know I couldn’t. There’s no way my body could stand up to 26 miles of pounding on concrete, the biomechanics are all wrong. The training alone to run/jog that distance would break my body down. I’ll save myself for hikes across the Olympics, thank you very much!