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kettlesmap

The quest to map and protect Washington's Kettle River Range by: Brittany Aäe - photos: David Moskowitz

By KAVU

December 4^th, 2018

the kettle river range....

....is the southernmost of the Monashees, and the westernmost of the Rockies.

Hewn of granite, the Kettle Crest forms a prominent fin between the Columbia River on its eastern flanks and the town of Republic on its west. Bear, Moose, and Wolf all make their homes here.

Despite living two hours from the Range, it wasn’t until summer 2016 that I took note of its existence.

My daughter was four months old and I was lost in the postpartum anxiety haze. I needed a goal around which to organize my significant energy.

Driving home from her grandparents’ house in the Colville I was called by my inner voice of wisdom to stop, get out of the car, and take a walk down the trail that crossed the highway near the pass. I set foot on the Kettle Crest Trail and immediately had this vivid realization:

....on the day of the full eclipse I would set an only-known-time (OKT) and that my stories, images, and experiences on this run would help re-designate a part of the Crest as wilderness.

And.... I had no fucking clue how to begin! Ha ha ha!

i began running....

.... a lot....

all through the snowy winter in the Methow Valley, where I make my home.

serendipitous sign

After months of logistical planning (as is required for a run that has never been done before), driving, and intensive recon-runs in burn scars of varying ages, I found myself on the trail the morning of August 21st, 2017.

A few minutes before totality, with shadows playing on the trail and the birds trying to decide whether to cheep themselves to sleep, All Them Witches "Call Me Star" came on my iPod. While the light around the moon looked like a glowing ring, I slowed to a walk to inspect an obstruction in the trail as Parks sang the line "everyone deserves a crown of light". I bent to find the largest feather I've ever seen laying across the trail:

a golden eagle primary feather.

With this cosmic cairn, this gift of no value, this gleamingly-clear omen, I realized:

I am on the right path... as impossible as it sometimes seems.

I was elated but I knew the hardest work of the run was before me. I recalled that the Stickpin Fire of 2015 had left an inhospitable rash of toothpick-like burned land bare to the mid-afternoon baking that awaited me around the time I’d reach the face of Profanity Peak (which totally lives up to its name).

I resolved, Profanity wouldn’t break my soul. But, sun under brim then baking on my back at the thirty-six mile bonk window, I felt myself crack open.

Somewhere around mile forty, with the entirety of the inside of my skin aching deeply at every flex or jiggle of muscle, I imagined the inescapable pain of being trapped in my moving body was not that of being kept in but was instead the burn of multitudinous, indigo-black feathers pushing their way out into the humid evening sun.

My feathers emerged and I fantasized about all the things I could do as a winged being in this barren landscape - populated with such quiet seduction. I imagined myself finding a burned pile of pine duff collected in an eroded basin atop a silvery granite boulder and in that reverie I felt myself fluffing my wings, arranging my feet just so beneath me, and finally ceasing flight in an ephemeral home I’d use for just tonight.

I thought how, in my raven form, I may be cunning or agile but I am certainly not graceful and that’s alright.

This fantasy continued for at least an hour, sustaining me through some climbs that tested my spirit, indifferent to my toil. At one point, however, I felt myself raise my arms to near-horizontal and that’s where I cut myself off, saying aloud:

“You’re not a fucking raven, you’re a PERSON and you’re running.” I put my arms back down at my sides and continued along, again pursued by the unmistakable two-headed beast of the pain I entice to chase me by continuing to run beyond a point of prudence.

For the sake of appearing sane, I'd like to say that was the end of my hallucinations on this run. Instead, this little trip was only the prelude for much stranger experiences later. Ultra-endurance is powerful shit and the afterglow sure beats any artificial means.

As if to answer my vision so long ago, since my run I’ve become involved in local conservation and cooperation efforts. We have just launched my Kettles Map project, my collaborative effort with Dharma Maps to create the first map of the Kettle Range. The completion of my run was only the beginning of my work in the numinous Kettles.

Magnetic North

https://www.instagram.com/explore/tags/kettlesmap/

KickStarter

David Moskowitz

Footnotes

Brittany Aäe is a writer, coach, climber, runner and a dedicated mom. She lives exactly on her own terms and lives to be outside. And that....is exactly KAVU!

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FootNotes

Brittany Aäe is a writer, coach, climber, runner and a dedicated mom. She lives exactly on her own terms and lives to be outside. And that....is exactly KAVU!

Havasupai 2025

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