They say big dreams start with small steps, and this is mine.
At 31, I’ve set out on a personal adventure I call 50 Before 40 — a soulful mission to visit all 50 U.S. states before I turn 40. I want to stand beneath redwood giants and desert stars, hike mountain trails and coastal cliffs, chase waterfalls, explore national parks, and ride every ferris wheel I come across. But more than that, I want to collect stories, not just of places, but of people, moments, and versions of myself I meet along the way.
And so, my journey begins here in Washington State, where the forests speak in hushes and waterfalls echo like old truths. This is the first chapter of my 50-state story.
Day 1: June 11 – A Midnight Welcome to Seattle
I arrived in Seattle just past 9 pm, welcomed by the hum of a city cloaked in twilight. As the taxi pulled away from the airport and we headed north, I pressed my forehead to the window and watched as the lights blurred past, each one a flicker of possibility. There’s something magical about arriving in a place you’ve never been to before, especially under the quiet hush of night. Everything feels new and sacred.
By the time I reached the Courtyard Seattle North/Lynnwood Everett (booked through the Marriott Bonvoy app), the world had settled into stillness. The hotel room was warm and calm, a gentle space to rest. As I sank into bed, the weariness of travel began to dissolve. I was finally here. Tomorrow, the real journey would begin, not just into the heart of Washington, but inward too, into the pieces of myself I hadn’t visited in a while.
Day 2: June 12 – Waterfalls, Ancient Trees, and A City that Glows
Morning: Snoqualmie Falls and the Forest That Holds You
The morning sun greeted me with golden light and the scent of fresh pine lingering in the air. I joined the Snoqualmie Falls tour (booked via Klook) at 8 am, eager to trade cityscapes for evergreens. As we drove east, the roads curved into forested hills and quiet towns that seemed to whisper stories older than maps.
Snoqualmie Falls appeared like something out of legend, a powerful rush of water plunging over a cliff, crowned in mist. It wasn’t just beautiful; it was alive. The sound of the falls echoed in my chest like a heartbeat, ancient and wild. I stood there in silence, breathing deeply, letting the roar of water wash away the noise I didn’t know I was carrying. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I could breathe again, truly, fully.
Wandering along the trail, I entered the forest, a cathedral of green where light filtered through the trees like soft prayers. That’s where I met her: a tree over 1,300 years old, towering and majestic, her bark thick with the weight of time. I wrapped my arms around her massive trunk, pressed my cheek to her side, and simply stood there. I imagined all the storms she had endured, the snow she had cradled, the birds that had nested in her branches, and the travelers who had once stopped here like I had.
In that embrace, I felt a deep stillness. It was like hugging history, like touching something older than time. She didn’t say anything, but I swear she listened.
As the trail curved deeper into the woods, I found myself getting wonderfully lost, not just in direction but in thought. In the quiet of the forest, I met people from different corners of the world. We shared soft smiles and stories of where we were from and why we came here. And in those fleeting exchanges, I felt something unexpected: connection. To strangers, to the earth, and to forgotten pieces of myself.
Evening: Chihuly’s Fire and the Space Needle’s Stars
After a restful afternoon, I headed to the Chihuly Garden and Glass (booked via Klook Seattle City Pass) for my 6:45 pm entry. From the moment I walked in, I was entranced. Under the soaring glass ceilings, Dale Chihuly’s sculptures glowed with surreal beauty — glass tendrils swirling like sea creatures, blossoms blooming midair, colors pulsing with life.
The Glasshouse held a sculpture in hues of fire — red, amber, gold — suspended like the breath of a dragon. Every corner was a play between light and shadow, glass and air, stillness and movement. Outside, in the garden, glowing orbs floated beside real plants, and sapphire reeds reached skyward between lavender bushes. It was like walking through a dream where time was made of light.
Just a few steps away stood the Space Needle (booked via Klook Seattle City Pass), glowing softly under a deep blue sky. I’d seen it so many times in movies, a backdrop for romance, ambition, wonder. But to stand beneath it in real life was something else. It towered above me like a sentinel watching over the city.
At 9 pm, I took the elevator to the top. As the city revealed itself below — glittering highways, dancing ferries, and rooftops sparkling like stardust — I felt suspended between sky and earth. The air was cool and tasted of sea salt and possibility.
I ordered a cup of coffee from the café, wrapped my hands around it, and leaned into the rail. The lights of Seattle shimmered like fireflies, and somewhere in the distance, Mt. Rainier stood faint and regal, as if keeping quiet vigil over everything. I stood there for a long while, sipping slowly, thinking about how far I’d come, not just in miles, but in growth.
Reflections on Day 2: To Be Lost and Found
Today was about so much more than sightseeing. It was about remembering.
Remembering how it feels to breathe in the wild.
Remembering the quiet comfort of a stranger’s hello.
Remembering that sometimes we need to wander to find ourselves again.
From the thunder of the falls to the silence of ancient trees, from the color-soaked glass gardens to the city seen from above. Seattle didn’t just welcome me.
It held me.
And in that embrace, I found something I didn’t even know I had been looking for.
–W
Balé 
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