On one particular weekend in mid-March, the weather seemed nice enough for a little overnight hike around Ancient Lakes, Washington, a beautiful area that with a rich geological history… and a lot of horses, kids on mountain bikes, and loose boulders.

A visit that could raise the following, suspenseful questions:

• Will Steve manage to find some solitude?
• Will Steve stay warm and dry at night?
• Will Steve be well-fed?
• Will Steve be back to Seattle in time to join his 3PM workshop on perception of time & art?
• How will Steve navigate the myriad of trails in the area?
• Will Steve consume the lake water, rumored to be chockfull of nitrates and agricultural runoff from nearby farmland?

All this & more follows.

This month, I started out feeling a bit uninspired with some of my weekly photography challenges. Some of them came at times when I was more interested in focusing on other themes. And others came just before or after I had a really good run of photographs using similar techniques, when I would have liked to pivot to something else.

But despite my frustrations, I had the impetus to try and create some things that I enjoyed. I remain content to stick with it.

After my last post on a trek near some Hawaiian lava fields, I doubt many readers are wondering, “what books was Steve reading when he wasn’t hiking?”

Unfortunately for those readers, I’ve gone ahead and decided to answer the question in some detail. This post is on three such books, which I happened to finish in 2021, started reviewing, and kept forgetting to copy over saved quotations… Until now.

The books in question are Sema Kaygusuz’s enchanting short story collection The Well of Trapped Words, Italo Cavino’s gigantic collection of Italian Folktales, and Otessa Moshfegh’s NYC-based contemporary novel My Year of Rest and Relaxation.

Read on for my budding literary critic thoughts. Or, don’t if you’re not feeling it. You do you.

I think it’s tremendously cool that Hoapili Trail exists.

The route is an ancient Hawaiian road. It was initially constructed in the 1500’s, and partially reconstructed in 1853. The full trail is 138 miles long, and some of it is in threat of undergoing redevelopment. There are people who have hiked the entire route, but generally that is not a common desire.

This hike was pretty intense, but also, really, really cool.

A common refrain from my mother is that “no grass grows under your feet, Steve.”

Another fact is that the tread on my shoes is frequently well worn. For this reason, I often feel a bit of trepidation when I am descending steep hillsides.

This is what I was feeling when I heard a resounding click and realized the door I stepped through was now locked.

Behind me, Fortress Ehrenbreitstein.

Ahead, a steep slope downwards on a warm summer’s day.