It was a grey day. A wet road led to the trailhead. I parked between cedars and fir, the only car in sight. The woods greeted me like an old friend. We embraced. When was the last time I’d visited Whistle Lake? Last summer? Yes, swimming with a friend by a rocky outcrop on the west side. And the time before that it was covered in snow!

Many trails I seek in their best season, with wildflowers, or golden leaves. But the Anacortes Community Forest Lands are wonder filled year-round, each season offering its special gifts. All the lakes, wetlands, forest, and hills are linked together by miles of trail options and days, weeks, months of happy exploration. I came to walk to the lake, as I had many times before. After that I had no agenda.

The old forest road to the lake is wide with a gentle grade, an easy walk. It’s framed by huge cedars at the start then by a rock face on one side and a tree lined shore on the other. I reminisced as I walked, remembering when I’d lived nearby and walked my dog here. How I’d seen people of every age in summer swimsuits, toting an air mattress or rubber raft up this trail. In winter cross country ski tracks traced the route through the snow. On this January day, the lake was calm. I heard voices along the west side, so I turned east.

All the trails are marked and numbered, so if I’d brought a map, I’d be able to track my route with some accuracy. If I’d brought a map. But I’d walked these trails so many times, I felt confident without one. The trail followed the lakeshore around the east side until it reached a rocky shore. I took a seat, had a snack and a sip from my thermos. A row of cormorants were evenly spaced on a log suspended over the water, looking like clothes pins on a line. I gazed across the lake to the curving summit of Mount Erie rising in the distance. The south end of the lake has a rock face where teenagers jump in, screaming, but not today. Madronas leaned out over the rocks, stretching skyward at the water’s edge. One old tree that had shed its papery, red bark, revealed a puckered-up surface below. A long hollow gouge left only the outer shell still thriving.

I turned away from the water, the usual route I used to take with my dog, on to trail 29, which is more narrow with some twists and turns, ups and downs. I could have turned left on the first trail, or the next, but wanted to lengthen my walk so I kept going, a little beyond where I’d been before. I have a good sense of direction, a natural compass, but on a grey day, with no visual clues like mountain peaks or town spires, I wasn’t sure. This trail wasn’t familiar. Still, I kept walking. Whenever I thought the trail should wiggle to the left, it would inevitably wiggle to the right.

I came to an overlook and spied the Sharpes Corner round-about, Skagit Valley, and the North Cascades. I hoped this trail wasn’t leading me down to Highway 20.  Eventually, the wiggles started turning toward the west. Even with the ups and downs, switchbacks and rock faces, I felt I was finally moving in the right direction. Near the end of my hike, I met two women and asked how far I was from the main trail. They insisted on guiding me until I could see it and knew I was just a short stroll from the parking area.

I had to laugh. I love getting lost. It makes me more aware of my surroundings, working my mind as much as my muscles.  It was a longer walk than expected, but a better one. Aren’t we fortunate to have so many trails that we can get lost now and then?  I rewarded myself with tea and cookies at the corner store. 

Maribeth
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You may want to bring a map.

Directions: From the round-about on Commercial Avenue in Anacortes, go south to the top of the hill. Turn left at the T onto Fidalgo Ave. and left again on Hillcrest. Turn right on Whistle Lake Road and follow the signs. The road will turn left and then right onto a dirt road before it ends at the parking area. Please don't leave valuables in the car.

By Bus and Bike: The nearest bus stop is on R Avenue and 33rd, 3 miles away.  For a cyclist the hill from Commercial Ave. to Fidalgo Ave. could be daunting. There are no bike lanes, but the speeds are low. The road narrows as you approach the lake. 

Mobility: The main trail to the lake is wide and smooth with a gentle uphill grade. Other trails around Whistle Lake vary widely from rough and narrow to smooth with room for two people to walk side by side. 

Directions: The trails to Goose Rock begin at the Deception Pass Bridge parking area at the north end of Whidbey Island, or at the Deception Pass State Park office, or along Cornet Bay Road west of the Retreat Center.

“Because in the end, you won’t remember the time you spent working in the office or mowing your lawn. Climb that goddam mountain.”– Jack Kerouac

By Bus: Take Island Transit's 411W north from Oak Harbor, stopping near Cornet Bay Road, or 411W south from the March's Point Park and Ride near Anacortes.

By Bike: Highway 20 is a busy high-speed highway with narrow shoulders and rolling terrain. The bridge itself is particularly challenging to get across, with no shoulder and a narrow sidewalk with railings on both sides.

Mobility: The trails up Goose Rock are challenging, with between 250 and 400 feet of elevation gain in less than half a mile on trails that are rocky, crossed with roots in places, and very uneven footing.

​I had been through this before, this deep grief, this cutting hurt. I had lost loved ones and struggled to stand, to sleep, to breathe. So I knew what I needed to do. To get off the couch. To stop staring out the window. To go out!

The raging waves roared lifting logs and tossing them on the stony shore. Dark clouds settled on the distant mountains.  Columns of rain streaked the far shore.  I walked. I climbed. My heart pounded. The wind scoured my face, blew into me, swept through me. Climbing. Standing. Purging.

I noticed a little girl, in a pink coat, singing, playing, dancing by the water’s edge.  The smile on her face. The joy in her step. Her father nearby, her protector, her guide.

I lost my father on New Year’s Eve. It was time. He was ready. But what a cavernous hole in my heart! What a deep well of sorrow! The only thing to do was walk.

I walked through the forest where the old trees grow. I walked by lakes and ponds of mallards and mergansers. I walked over pastures and among trees with hooting owls overhead. And I went to the bluff. Only in wild beauty, strong wind, vast waters, could I find solace. A gaping wound such as this needed powerful healing, and that is what I found.

Steps lured me to the ridge. The path led me up the bluff. Twisted trees danced with the wind. A gull hovered steady as a kite looking me in the eye. It was a rare day, alone on the bluff. I walked watching the tiny figures on the beach below. At the very end I pushed past the rosehips and Oregon grape to where there used to be a sign. “End of the Trail” it had said, but the sign was gone.

So I turned and looked back. On came a man with a broad hat. On came another with a red shirt. One by one they went down the steep slope to the beach. I turned to retrace my steps along the ridge.

I felt better. Not so devastated. Eyes sore and limbs tired, but not completely undone. I could walk and stop and take in the view, a passing ship with an escort tug, a ferry crossing from Port Townsend to Whidbey, a faint hint of Mount Rainier on the horizon. Walking on I heard kinglets all around me and caught a glimpse of their shiny gold crowns. Eagles sailed high on the wind. People came and passed, smiling, as I stepped aside. The old log where I'd sat with friends on many previous bluff hikes had withered to skeletal remains. Nothing lasts forever.

And when I feel the loss acutely here is where I come for consolation, when times are hard and I am  suffering. We are truly blessed to have so many places of peace so near at hand. Beaches and bluffs, forests and fields, wetlands and lakes where we can go to release the ache and breathe again. Ebey’s Bluff is truly a treasure for us all to share, in times of sorrow, and in joy. It cleared my head and began to heal my aching heart. 

Maribeth

Directions: From Highway 20 just north of the Main Street stop light in Coupeville, turn left onto Ebey Road and drive to the beach. Or go a little farther north and turn left on Sherman Road and right on Cemetery Road. Park at the very end at the Ebey's Landing National Historical Reserve office.

By Bus or Bike: The Route 1 Island Transit bus stops at Sherman Road. Walk or bike a half mile south to the upper trailhead at the end of Cemetery Road. 

Mobility: The picnic area by the beach is accessible from Ebey Road. Parking inside the gate requires a State Park Discover Pass. The trail is narrow and climbs steeply in places and has a steep drop from the bluff to the beach below. 

Directions: Just north of the Deception Pass bridge, turn onto Rosario Road. In 0.7 miles angle left onto Cougar Gap Road. Turn left onto Rosario Beach Road and follow it to the parking lot at the end.

By bike: Rosario Road and Highway 20 are narrow, winding, and hilly in places. Rosario Road has lower speed limits and fewer cars.

Mobility: the trail from the parking area toward the Maiden is firmly graveled and gently sloped. Beyond there the trails onto the head are challenging; the one up the middle is the widest, but also very steep. The one up the south side is the most gently sloped of all the trails, but it is somewhat narrow.

If you go there, what are your thoughts as you wander the fields, beaches and trails?