tree – JL Summa

In late September, years ago, I visited a gem of public lands: Lake Easton. The subtle hum from the nearby interstate is part of the strange ambiance here, joining the deep, rhythmic rumble of the BNSF locomotives that frequently roll through the glacial valley. As I have harbored a love for the mystique of transcontinental freight trains since childhood, the area enchanted me. It is a place of continuous movement, whether water flowing through rivers and dams, motorists passing by, engineers urging on their cargo, or hikers, cyclists, equestrians, and kayakers finding their way through the state park and rails-to-trails. In early autumn, the summer crowds are gone and conditions are ideal in this convergence on shimmering waters.