I want to start this post by telling a little story. So sit down, grab a nice cool beverage (hopefully something casual like the blood of 1000 virgins on the rocks) and enjoy:
When I first moved to Seattle, I lived in a house with 6 of my friends. The house was a big ol’ 3-story red bitch built in like 1902 that had farmhouse vibes, so we (maybe unsurprisingly) named her Red Barn. Please don’t let the innocent name fool you though- this home was truly a den of hedonism the likes of which have never been seen before. I joked that if the walls in that house could talk, they wouldn’t. They would scream. Bloody murder. Anyways!! One night after getting absolutely obliterated together on Capitol Hill, me and a few of my friends who lived there (I’ll name them Schmallen and Schmileana (and maybe Schmizzy? I can’t remember if Schmizzy was there) -we want to maintain anonymity obviously) decided to bust out the poppers, bc why the hell not. *Insert record scratch* ‘Hi- it’s me, Matt the narrator voice. For anyone who unknowingly stumbled upon this blog or has lived their whole life in Des Moines, Iowa and who doesn’t know what poppers are, they are an inhalant drug historically used within the gay community to increase sexual pleasure by inducing feelings of euphoria, muscle relaxation, and arousal. Commonly called VCR cleaner at sex stores (nice lil legal loophole used to continue selling them)- they have since been co-opted by the straights bc what else do straight ppl do, amirite? Anyways, truly deranged people will do them casually just because their lives are empty, hollow shells which require inhaling dangerous chemicals to feel anything *points at 2019 self*. Enter me and my friends. Let’s return back to the story‘. Anyyyywho, as we were very drunk, Schmallen proceeded to knock over the bottle of poppers, which proceeded to spill onto the kitchen counter and seep into the porous material underneath (it was a cheap, old laminate and there was a section peeled up which exposed the particleboard. That is where the poppers spilled). For anyone who hasn’t experienced poppers before- I cannot describe to you how intensely powerful the fumes are. Imagine nail polish remover combined with concentrated eucalyptus and bleach. Now imagine this, in an enclosed space, for days. It was HORRIBLE. *Mom and dad reading the blog- stop reading here* My asshole was loose for DAYS (this is what poppers do). *Mom and dad- feel free to continue reading* Anyways, we eventually were able to air out the kitchen and clean up the mess however the smell lingered for several days. It was like everytime you walked into that kitchen for a week after the incident you were walking into a Troye Sivan concert. I bring up this rock bottom (emphasis on the bottom) moment of my life to say that the feelings of euphoria that poppers bring are much like the feelings that nature bring me. Minus the nausea. And brain damage. And litany of other health side effects. Ok so the connection is weak at best- I reallllly just wanted to share that story on here because it cracks me up. It is something that truly trauma bonded Red Barn together for life (I love y’all so so so much #RedBarn4Life).
Onto the nature of it all!!!
Ahhh, the Cascades. Try and find a more magical corner of the globe- I dare you. Whether its the early morning light angled through whispering layers of moss dangling from the trees, or the sound of light rain dancing on several layers of fragrant evergreen needles overhead in the canopy- the mountains never disappoint. Being a mountain-born person myself (yes- Reno counts as being in the mountains) I have always felt deeply comforted with peaks rising around me. I can’t describe it, but I feel embraced by them. It’s a familiarity that feels ingrained in my DNA (lowkey think the flatness of the Midwest will be a challenge for me- I’ll report back later). Summer is especially lovely in these rugged ranges. Vibrant orange Columbia lilies line the alpine trails- brilliantly marking the path like lanterns. Undulating waves of cobalt lupines move in the wind- mimicking deep Pacific waves. Patches of fiery Indian paintbrush contrast with delicate lacy spiraea and sunny goldenrod. Vibrant lilac asters pop through underbrush- eager to show their summer best. Flamboyant columbine shoot up on narrow stalks like neon fireworks. I cannot stress how incredible the high-alpine summer blooms in the Cascades are. Each year dense carpets of life wait to spring forth from their snowy cocoon and if you’re lucky enough to witness the show, it makes the strenuous hike completely worth it. I threw a couple dollar bills at them and yelled “YASS QUEEN”. It made the other hikers on the trail uncomfortable.
But I would be amiss to not talk about the biggest baddest bitches of the Cascades themselves- the mountains! Of course you have Rainier- the one member of the friend group who is the Type A overachiever that plans everything out for the group and wears the title of ‘group leader’ like a badge of honor and is lowkey annoying as fuck. Every friend group has one (if you don’t know who it is in your group, it’s probably you.) Then there’s St. Helens, the group fire sign who is messy as fuck, loves to drink, and always talks to you at length about their current toxic relationship. There’s Adams- the silent king who knows their worth but doesn’t feel the need to walk around all haughty like Rainier does exclaiming it (but is also definitely severely depressed and doesn’t seek help- ahhh toxic masculinity). And finally there’s Baker- the fuckin’ sensitive bitchass crybaby of the group. But why should these 4 just get to stomp around like a giant while the rest of the mountains try not to get smushed under their big feet? The Goat Rocks are just as cute as Rainier, right? Mount Gilbert is just as smart as Rainier, people totally like Dragontail Peak just as much as they like Rainier, and when did it become okay for one person to be the boss of everybody because that’s not what the Cascades are about! We should totally just STAB RAINIER! *Matt Reider had cracked* (And yes- that’s a Mean Girls reference. How 2010 of me, I know). But to compare these majestic peaks to a 2004 Lindsay Lohan comedy is a disservice to them (no shade LiLo but also kinda shade). In all honesty, these mountains leave me speechless every time. Their sheer size, prominence, slope, and massive icefields are something so beautifully unique to this corner of the world. Where else can you be in the city and look out on a massive 14,000 foot tall technically active volcano? Maybe Mexico City? I mean literally, where else??
Recently I did some backcountry hiking in the Gifford Pinchot National Forest (south of Mt. Rainier National Park) and was treated to a corner of the state I’d never visited (or even heard of??) before. From Walupt Lake, trails snake deep into the ridges and valleys of the Goat Rocks wilderness. The rugged peaks of Mount Gilbert, the Goat Rocks and Old Snowy Mountain tower above the aforementioned verdant summer meadows. Massive groves of red cedar, Douglas firs, western hemlock and spruce carpet the steep mountain slopes while exposed patches of sheer rockfall are interspersed with low brush and flowering scrub. The hum of insects was constant- accompanied by the occasional squawk of an ornery magpie and the melodies of wrens. And suddenly- a loud CRACK. Something big was moving in the woods. Whipping my head to the sound I lock eyes with a black bear. An ACTUAL BEAR. This was literally my first time seeing bears in the wild (not counting the countless bears spotted at Folsom Street Fair, of course). And when I say bearS plural, I mean bearS plural. I saw two!! They were happy lil guys just scratching their backs on wood (honestly- so relatable). As cute as they may have been my ass was not going to be the idiot human who obliviously stands around snapping photos of large wildlife that is not having it. Respecting their space, I turned and walked away slowly- letting them continue to backscratch in peace. Beyond the amazing mammalian finds- there were also some awesome amphibian friends in these woods. At the end of Nannie Ridge lies the small, picturesque Sheep Lake. Along the shores of its calm waters were droves of juvenile Northwest salamanders!! These lil guys are SO CUTE. Still exhibiting the frilly gills of their not-fully-developed-awkward-middle-school form, these aquatic cuties drift lazily along, snatching bugs from the surface of the water and overall just VIBING HARD. I legitimately stood watching them for like 15 minutes just living their best life. I have never seen a salamander in the wild, and seeing so many in this lake was such a treat!! Amphibians are so misunderstood (so many people see them as gross, slimy weirdos….which hey I can relate) and unfortunately they are being decimated worldwide as they are very finely tuned to their niche habitats which climate change and water pollution are wreaking havoc on. Seeing so many in one place just happily living their lives was peak serotonin, and I’m so grateful I got to stumble across them (and in such a beautiful location too). Y’all- love on some amphibians. Find a frog in your neighborhood and hug it (please don’t actually, just metaphorically do so). Amphibians are really in danger right now and we all need to be looking out for our slimy brothers and sisters.
When I first moved to Seattle back in 2019, one of my reasons was wanting to explore the incredible natural wonders right outside of the city limits. Unfortunately for many years, I did that thing that people do where life starts lifing and I said “oh, there will be time to do all of that! I’ll do it later”. Well, flash forward 5 years later and I had done very little of that. When I took a step back from drag it opened up so many other pathways of self expression and discovery which included returning to my love of exploring the outdoors. Growing up I always hiked solo in the mountain ranges in Nevada behind my family home and would get lost in the groves of ponderosa pine, fragrant juniper and sagebrush (lowkey miss the desert too- so underrated and so beautiful). It has always been something so important to me that I unfortunately had fallen out of touch with in my 20’s. Since entering my 30’s and starting this new chapter of my life- it has been such a beautiful rediscovery of the things that make me happy. The late summer blooms. The feel of icy cold mountain stream water. The whistle of wind through the trees. I am going to miss these mountains something fierce. The Cascades have helped me find myself again, and for that I will always be so grateful to them. Oh and one last thing: PLEASE DO NOT DO POPPERS. They are truly not worth the damage they cause. Mentally, financially, emotionally, spiritually. Just don’t do it. This has been a Matt PSA.
Central Cascades – June & July 2025
La Vida Veeta 