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“From Space Needles to Lava Fields” is both a travel narrative and a character study. It celebrates the unpredictability of travel and the joy of imperfection, framed by a keen sense of place and self-awareness. It invites the reader not merely to see Seattle and its surroundings, but to feel the rhythm of wonder and laughter that defines meaningful journeys.

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From Space Needles to Lava Fields

(From Space Needles to Lava Fields)

By Harry Arabian

We arrived in Seattle on a crisp morning, caffeine-deprived and ready to conquer the city. First stop: the Space Needle. The elevator shot us up like a rocket, and I swear I saw my life flash before my eyes when the floor creaked. At the top, the views were breathtaking—Puget Sound sparkling, Mount Rainier peeking through clouds, and the skyline glittering like it had just been Photoshopped. I tried to take a selfie, but the wind nearly stole my hat—and my dignity—in one gust.

Next, we wandered to Pike Place Market, home of the world-famous fish toss. A fishmonger hurled a salmon through the air, and I instinctively ducked, drawing a laugh from a small child. I didn’t catch the fish, but I did score a perfect clam chowder at Pike Place Chowder and a flaky pastry from Piroshky Piroshky. My taste buds rejoiced; my stomach quietly filed a complaint.

As afternoon melted into evening, we drove to Kerry Park. Sunset painted Mount Rainier in fiery golds and pinks, a masterpiece no camera could fully capture. I tried another selfie—this time without wind interference—but my companion photobombed every shot with a dramatically fake faint. We laughed so hard, I’m pretty sure the mountain blushed.

The next morning, we hit the road for a day trip to Mount Rainier. The drive wound through forests so green they looked painted, with mist curling between the trees like slow breath. We stopped for photos every few miles, surrendering to beauty and poor time management. Cliff Dropp awaited with burgers and craft beer. I proudly ordered the “volcano burger” and nearly erupted when it arrived piled high with toppings. Delicious chaos.

That night, we checked into the Cowlitz River Lodge, a cozy cabin that smelled faintly of pine—and mystery. We debated whether the “Do Not Feed the Bears” sign was serious or just a local prank. Spoiler: no bears were fed, but we did roast marshmallows over a tiny fireplace like seasoned professionals.

The next day, we went full adventurer mode at Mount St. Helens National Volcanic Monument. At the Visitor Center and Johnston Ridge Observatory, I tried to look serious reading about the eruption but couldn’t help imagining the volcano quietly smoldering with pride. The crater view was jaw-dropping—an immense, silent reminder of nature’s power to both destroy and renew. Down at Coldwater Lake, the serene waters mirrored the clouds so perfectly it felt like the sky had dropped for a rest. I wanted to kayak, but knowing my balance, I stuck to taking photos while nearly falling in.

By the end of the trip, our car smelled faintly of fish chowder, campfire, and adventure, and our hearts were full. Seattle had dazzled us, the mountains humbled us, and my selfie game…well, it remained hilariously inconsistent. But we agreed: any place that can make you laugh, awe-struck, and a little braver all in one weekend is worth returning to.