The refresh rate was periously low

Over the weekend, I went to Whiskey Creek, which really ought to be a euphemism (feel free to start) but is actually a place located on the far edges of the state. It was beautiful there, the setting untouchable; the company was glorious, old and new friends all; and the cumulative effect of both was, for those that believe in such things, a clean aura or, for those that don’t, a refreshed mind and body.

I drove out through heavy rains. Many people don’t like piloting through wet sheets, but I’m the anomaly; there were points, however, on the two lane roads that ink Washington’s lesser traveled paths, where I started to re-think my position, as driving with little to no visibility is a flight plan to disaster. But as a trained pilot I had little to fear.

It was midnight when I pulled up outside the cabins. It was morning one day later when I left. Here’s a smattering of what happened in between.







The rest of the pictures are here.