The Ridgeline

     Jasmine looked out her backdoor window, the old crackled glass might have looked like art rather than age, but the skeleton-key lock told the truth of its origins. The sun was still high despite the lengthening hour of the day, but that’s simply the way of a Pacific Northwest summer. She spied her small red Igloo cooler on the picnic table and ventured out for it, breathing deeply the fresh air, cleared of July’s wildfire smoke. September may be considered Fall to some, but for Washingtonians summer was still holding strong.

Excitement washed over Jasmine, as well as nervousness. It was going to be her first Jeeping adventure in the hills of the Cascades; just herself and the new friend she’d made, Devina. They had been thrust together by a weird twist of fate: a threesome friendship that dwindled to two, and the change had brought them closer over the last few months. Jasmine and Devina, two seemingly opposites, were finding more common ground each time they were together. The friendship had grown close enough that Jasmine was giving her trust over to Devina into a completely new, but not without risk, adventure.

The two women, both in their late thirties, shared a love of photography and the night sky. Devina had long lived in their small rural town at the base of Mount Rainier and spent much of her free time rolling her CJ-5 up the logging roads and discovering the beauties of such a place. Jasmine, on the other hand, had only lived there for eighteen months and was still trying to get a grasp on her new way of life. The area held a stillness she had never imagined possible; it was sometimes overwhelming.

         Today, however, Jasmine was tingling with anticipation. She’d only ridden in a Jeep once before, with her brother in Florida, doors off, hot asphalt threatening to melt the rubber soles of her shoes to her socks. Today, though, she would ride with no doors, no roof, and cool mountain air to blow her butterscotch hair into an exotic, tangled mess. She would watch the sun sink and set below Alder Lake in the west and gaze at the Milky Way above.

         Jasmine carried the little cooler to the outdoor “beer frig” and stacked a few cans of Busch Lite and mango-flavored White Claws inside with a sigh. Low carb sucked.

         “It is what it is,” she muttered.

         She returned to the house, the late 19th-century door creaking its welcome behind her, and started looking for small snacks to pack as well.

         As she rummaged through her cabinets, a loud chugging engine sounded over the grinding of gravel, announcing Devina’s arrival. Jasmine grabbed the cooler, cabinet doors left open in haste, as she dashed through the house grabbing the rest of her gear. Jacket, blanket, camera, tripod, and smokes – all at the ready. She opened the door just as Devina rang the bell and was greeted by the rich brown eyes of her friend, mirroring the excitement evident on Jasmine’s face.

         “Ready?” Jasmine asked.

         “Si! You got a jacket?”

         “Yeah, jacket and blanket. Can you grab that chair?” Jasmine asked, pointing to the folded camping chair she’d placed against the house.

         “Got it,” Devina said as she grabbed the chair and headed to the copper-colored CJ.

         “The Old Bitch here needs gas and then we’re ready,” she said as she tossed the chair into the back where she’d removed the second-row seats for her two dogs. 

         “Where’s the mutts?” Jasmine asked as she placed the cooler in the back, shifting it around until it felt secure.

         “Oh, I decided to leave them home. Daisy’s having a bad day so Harold can stay home with her for company. Plus, she’s hard to see in the dark,” she said of her elderly, jet-black Labrador-Great Dane mix, her “soul dog”.

         “Aww, that’s too bad,” Jasmine replied, feeling the edge of Devina’s words. We knew Daisy’s days were running short, but Jasmine was unsure how to comfort her amid the sorrow at having recently lost her beloved “soul cat”.

         Jasmine approached the passenger door of the rumbling Jeep and began to laugh.

         “Um,” she yelled over the engine, “Do you happen to have a stool?” Her laughter threatening her bladder as she tried throwing her leg up into the footwell with no success.

         Devina watched with raised eyebrows as her friend tried repeatedly, to no avail, to get into the Jeep, finally falling into a fit of giggles herself. At least Jasmine, barely over five feet tall, could laugh at her vertical challenges! Just as Devina thought she’d have to give the poor gal a boost into the passenger seat, Jasmine figured it out. 1. Stand close to the side, 2. Lift leg from the hip and get the foot just inside the well, then, 3. Grab onto the seat and haul yourself inside.

“Yup, that’s how it’s done,” Devina called out to Jasmine.

Now, the adventure began.

         They stopped for fuel and Marlboro Lights a mile down the road from Jasmine’s house, the only station in town, and then back to the mountains. The CJ’s radio was ancient, so Devina mounted a Bluetooth speaker to the dash and blared a mix of techno, country, and 90s rock as they turned off the main road and headed south on Forest Road 85.

The trees immediately enveloped them, the sunlight dancing shadows across their faces through the Fir’s limbs. In minutes, Jasmine felt her heart swelling with a joy she had never experienced. It was exhilaratingly beautiful as they climbed higher into the mountains, passing old-growth forests and freshly cut swaths of land, each change in landscape beckoning onlookers to explore, enjoy, and find peace.

         After a half hour of traversing the old paved portion of 85, they turned east onto a narrow, packed dirt road with heavy ruts from the active logging happening deep in the forest. Jasmine could hardly believe the massive logging trucks and heavy machinery could climb the hairpin turns, conquering the steep ledges with no guardrails. The thought of those trucks thrust Jasmine into a deeper reflection about the guardrails in her own life, the safety net within which she existed. With each foot they climbed higher into the trees, she felt those guardrails loosening, falling away, and to her surprise, she wasn’t scared.

Devina suddenly pulled the Jeep to the side of the road where they’d made another turn, jolting Jasmine from her reverie.

         “There it is!”

         “There WHAT is?” Jasmine asked Devina, confused by the lack of anything obvious.

         “Our Beer tree! See, there’s still a few cans!”

         Jasmine did see now – a young Douglas fir, maybe six feet tall, and spindly like a Charlie Brown Christmas. A few Rainier beer cans dangled from its branches, swaying gently in the late afternoon breeze that flowed through the open road.

         “My cousin and I started decorating it a few years back and no one messes with it. I think people use it as a marker now for the turn,” she laughed.

         She walked to the tree and picked up a can that had fallen off, placing it back on the branches. It wasn’t about the tree, or the cans, or even the landmarked turn; it was about the memories. Memories that would now become part of Jasmine’s history, too. Devina jumped back into the Jeep and slowly moved forward before pointing out her next beloved landmark.

         “The pond there,” she said, pointing to the right side of the road with a crinkle in her nose, “it’s getting kind of gross now, but I used to bring Daisy up here when she was a puppy and she would swim in it, all day if I let her.”

         Jasmine could envision a smaller, gangly-puppy version of the now-giantess-dog, swimming after thrown sticks and tennis balls, shaking the water from her coat, and going on to do it over and over again until all she had energy for was basking in the sun’s warmth. Her eyes misted over and she kept her vision locked on the pond as Devina continued upwards.

         “Now that we’re off the main road,” Devina said breaking the heavy mood, as she reached behind the passenger seat and popped open her cooler. “Want one?”

         Jasmine wasn’t sure how to respond as Devina offered her a Rainier beer dripping with condensation. She knew they’d have a few drinks at their destination, but drinking while driving was an altogether different scenario than she’d imagined. In truth though, she’d lost count of the number of times a new neighbor had pulled into her driveway with a beer in hand to welcome her to the neighborhood. It was part of life in this small town with no law enforcement within thirty miles.

         No guardrails.

         “Okay, sure,” Jasmine finally answered.

         She knew she should feel guilty. It was illegal and irresponsible. But she felt so free for the first time in her life, there were no hindrances or responsibilities to anyone but herself in this moment and she didn’t care. Her trust in Devina blossomed in this seemingly stupid decision, but she felt no hesitation after deciding to participate.

         Another thirty minutes later, Devina told Jasmine they were almost there. The Ridgeline. Its location was held close to the chest by locals; it was a place only for locals - no tourists allowed. They followed the curve of the road and soon there was a view off to Jasmine’s right, mountainous hills rolling on as far as she could see, a blue-green haze laying lightly over them, the reflection of the deep green trees on a light layer of clouds with the sunlight dramatizing the hues.

         “Crap,” Devina said.

         Jasmine looked forward and saw a truck and a van parked on the sides of the road along with tents, canopies, and glowing cookfires, and a few people milling about.

         “Well, let’s park and see what’s up,” Devina said pulling over, away from the others on the fifty-foot stretch of national forest roadway.

         But Jasmine barely noticed them. The view to her right had been beautiful, but to the left, looking eastward, left her breathless. Mount Rainier stood before them, vast with white snow gleaming in the midst of summer, hues of pink and lavender beginning to settle gently around Her as the sun began its descent. At that moment, Jasmine didn’t care if there were one hundred people on that ridgeline because she was blind to all else. She put the beer down, opened the car door, and jumped out. She needed the ground to tell her she was really there, high up and soaking in this magnificence, fighting the urge to sob as the emotions overwhelmed her. She walked to the edge of the ridgeline, uncaring of any danger she was in by standing so close to the precipice.

         No more guardrails. No more safety net. This is the life she was meant to enjoy. This was thriving rather than existing.

         Jasmine heard Devina approach from behind to stand next to her. Neither of them was the huggy-touchy type, but if they had been, Jasmine would have embraced her. Instead, all they needed was to stand closely, taking the same deep breaths, soaking in the stillness of the Majesty before them.  

         After a few moments, Jasmine broke the silence with a crack in her voice.

         “I always believed living in a small town would be boring and lonely. I thought I’d become a pessimistic recluse, eventually loathing the trees and mountains for my seclusion. But now I know joy and beauty and friendship without comparison. Now I know I was wrong. Thank you, Devina.”

         They never turned to one another; they didn’t need to.