Early in the morning we crossed iconic Deception Pass Bridge, leaving behind the sunny vistas of Whidbey Island and the nurturing depth of our visit with friends.
The bridge, a sinewy arm of steel, carried us into a contrasting realm on mainland Washington as the atmosphere shifted abruptly. A brooding gloom enveloped us, dense and oppressive. What we hoped was merely a transient fog persisted inland as we headed to our destination, Baker Lake, nestled at the gateway to North Cascades National Park.
The campsite that awaited us was cloaked in what Mike optimistically termed “mist,” though visibility was so reduced that the opposite shore was nothing more than a shadow through the gray veil.
Despite the ominous vibe, several families, defying the elements, frolicked in the lake’s shallow waters near a sandy beach. Kids’ laughter echoed as they splashed and swatted mosquitoes, clearly determined to make the most of their vacation regardless of conditions.
The atmosphere around our campsite as we parked the trailer was thick with a sweet, decaying scent. This tugged at the edges of my memory until I identified it as reminiscent of the fermented molasses smell that hung around the sugar cane mills of my youth in Hawaii. The nostalgic aroma mingled unpleasantly with a more immediate stench from nearby dumpsters brimming with fish guts.
“That ‘mist’ smells like smoke,” I remarked, my nose wrinkling as we set up our temporary home.
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