![]() The sun was out, as was the tide. It’s been cold, but clear, so why not take a walk on the beach? Abandoning my indoor projects, I drove to Clinton and parked at Possession Sound Preserve. As I followed the rustic rail fence, I remembered that this property was slated for development until 2019 when, through dogged efforts, it was acquired by the Whidbey Camano Land Trust to protect, preserve and provide public access by both land and sea. I walked down the old road bed listening for birds, watching for whales and wondering what might lay ahead. The trail turned this way and that as it descended toward the water. Volunteers had been hard at work, clearing blackberries and opening up the view. A retaining wall held part of the bank in place while newly planted native shrubs and saplings dug their roots into the unstable slope. One last turn and the honking of sea lions welcomed me to the beach. Gulls, grebes and a gaggle of Golden-eyes greeted me. These striking black and white diving ducks are always eye-catching, but I’d not noticed this behavior before. I took out my binoculars and camera and watched. A half dozen, close to shore, were making unusual vocalizations. A couple of males, closely following a female, were literally bending over backwards to get her attention. They stretched out their necks and called out to her, or maybe to each other, “She’s mine!” They seemed to say. “No mine!” The other answered. The female stayed just a little out of reach. Courtship. It’s that time of year. Hearing a fog horn, I climbed over the driftwood to stand by the water and saw the ferry coming from Clinton to cross Possession Sound. The other sailed from Mukilteo, and behind them the crystal mountains shone with fresh snow above their azure blue capes. Hearing voices I turned to meet a group of visitors coming to Whidbey to celebrate a birthday. Their dogs played at their feet as they skipped rocks and laughed together. Continuing down the shoreline, I noticed ribbons of eelgrass in the surf and the layers of sand and gravel in the feeder bluff, so important to forage fish, salmon and other wildlife. The ferry wake eventually caught up with a rhythmic rush. I love that sound. And then the sound of a stream that gurgled from the bluff, over rocks, under logs and spread to nothingness through the sand. Investigating, I found a congregation of otter tracks where the stream erupts from the woods. My face in the sun I walked south toward distant beach homes and heard eagles screech. Looking up I saw two lock talons and spin recklessly toward the water parting at the very last second to fly off in opposite directions. Not what I’d call safe sex. A seal poked its marbled head up and looked this way and that. Then cast its gaze directly at me with some interest. The supersonic sound of a hummingbird drew my attention to the shore. I saw it rocket straight up, pause, and then shot straight down, to impress a mate. A couple walked by holding hands and talking warmly. I smiled. Courtship. It’s nearly Valentine’s Day and also the month of Random Acts of Kindness. These are tumultuous times and listening to the news can cause distress. But spending time in nature is healing. It eases the mind, and offering kindness to others is therapeutic to all. As I climbed the hill back toward my car, I noticed how volunteers had planted ferns and shrubs along the rustic fence. Stopping for one last look at the water, I was surrounded by tiny birds. They darted back and forth across the trail, dark eyed juncos, Bewick’s wren and chestnut backed chickadees! I aimed my camera but before I could focus, they were off to the next branch. “Catch me if you can!” They teased and laughed their tinkling laughs. They made me laugh, too. All the ducks, dogs, otters, seals, sea lions, eagles, wrens, juncos, hummingbirds and chickadees. They warm my heart. And I offer it to you, my community, those that appreciate our amazing natural wonders and help to preserve and protect them. My heartfelt thanks. “The greatest gift we can leave this world is the forest and the sea as we found it.” Kim Heacox, from Jimmy Bluefeather Maribeth And thanks to those that volunteer and contribute to the Whidbey Camano Land Trust who manage 11,500 acres of land on Whidbey and Camano Islands. They worked for four years to secure this site. Read more about their long range plans here. Watch this cool golden-eye courtship video. Directions: From Highway 525 in Clinton, turn south on Humphrey Road at Simmon’s Garage. Drive 2 miles and look for the sign on the left.
Bus or Bike: The Route 1 or Route 60 Island Transit bus stops two miles away at the Clinton Park and Ride or the Ferry Terminal. Two bikes fit on a bus bike rack. Humphrey Road is a lightly traveled road. Please wear something bright and carry a light while riding a bike or walking on the roadside. Mobility: The trail is a half mile through the woods down to the beach. It’s smooth gravel, and steep in places. At the beach there’s a large grassy lawn ringed by large driftwood logs and then the undeveloped beach for another half mile south before it reaches private property.
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In 1977, DNR proposed to lease 450 acres of land that it owned around Heart Lake for a condominium development. It was near Anacortes, unused except by forests, fish, wildlife, and a few hikers and fisherfolks. The bow-tied Commissioner of Public Lands at the time, Bert Cole, said yes to the proposal. But residents on Fidalgo Island were outraged, coming together to fight against the transfer. Bob Rose and Gerry Wallrath were two of the leaders of the fight, organized by the local conservation group Evergreen Islands. They not only stopped the development but helped push through a Heart Lake preservation bill that created Heart Lake State Park. A year before I arrived, the park was transferred to the city of Anacortes to become part of the ACFL. Today the lands continue to be a mosaic of woodlands including gigantic old-growth, and home to over a hundred species of birds. People come here each day to hike, run, bike, bird-watch, or dog-walk; to fish, swim, or paddle the lake, and to become entranced by this wilderness in our backyard. Today was our first snow of the year. Magical and mystical, Heart Lake transformed from a familiar green forest into a fairyland of white delights. The lake waters were steely gray, reflecting clouds still cascading snowflakes on the waters, on the trees, and on me. The forest lay still under an inch-thick crystalline blanket. Ringneck ducks convened a convoy swimming along the lakeshore. A serene swan couple swam just beyond the reeds, kissing gently as they passed each other, almost surreal in their graceful snow-white sweetness on this cold wintry day. I followed Trail 210, which became a tracker’s paradise to follow individual shoeprints, dog prints, and occasional bird or squirrel prints in places. All was quiet, other than the gentle swishing of snowflakes falling on my shoulders, on the shoulders of the firs and cedars, on the bare shoulders of maples, and on the stiff shoulders of salal and sword fern. A woodpecker’s hammering echoed through the silence. A varied thrush sang quietly, answered by another afar off. A raven’s cry sounded forlorn from across the lake. The trail twists and turns through the woods along the east, north, and west sides of the lake, leading to a cathedral of giants at the south end. That was my destination. I passed just one person as I crunched along the trail. At the wetlands at the southwest end, a chill wind blew onshore. A huge tree had snapped and fallen full across the trail. No creature stirred except a little Pac wren huddled deep in salal. I ascended into the cathedral of old growth. I stood still. Time stood still. Very little snow reached the ground in this sanctuary. No sounds disturbed the holy silence. Where would the condominiums have stood? I said a prayer of thanks that these woods, that these living communities, that this lake and its shoreline remain as they have been for centuries. As I returned the way I came, the dark gray sky lightened and brightened. The dark greens glistened greener in their new white coats. Some of the branches shook off their coats as if to say they were done with the snow, time to get back to gathering sunlight. A lone cormorant stood on a snag in the lake to warm itself in the sun’s filtered glow. The swans were gone; the ringnecks continued their hunt for food. The lake and forests had worked their magic. We all get to call this place home. jack For a video of Bob Rose as he chats about the giant trees at the south end of Heart Lake, click below, then scroll down through his Loving Legacy page to the video entitled “Heart Lake in Anacortes” https://lovinglegacyvideo.com/bob-rose-a-career-in-land-preservation-and-conservation/ Trail Conditions: It varies day to day in weather like this! I found the inch of snow to be easy to hike on, but slippery roots were hidden below. And mud patches are found throughout, some with no option other than getting muddy. It's part of the winter experience, right?
Directions: From H Avenue in Anacortes, go south where it becomes Heart Lake Road to the parking area when you get to the lake. From Whidbey Island, take Highway 20 north from the Deception Pass Bridge, go four miles and turn left on Campbell Lake Road, then right onto Heart Lake Road in a couple miles. Heart Lake is a couple miles up this road. By Bike: These roads mentioned above are narrow, winding and hilly. Highway 20 is also high speed. Mobility: The trail is narrow, muddy in places, with many roots, rocks, and elevation changes. Chickens. horses and cows? Fence lines, hedgerows and barns? Not your typical walk in the woods, or stroll on the beach. The Walking Ebey Trail is not the Ebey’s Bluff trail, nor is it at Fort Ebey State Park. This trail is a critical link connecting Keystone Spit, Fort Casey, Camp Casey, and the Admiralty Inlet Preserve to the Rhododendron County Park, Rhododendron and Kettles bike paths, the Spur Trail, Pratt Loop and Ebey’s Bluff trail, all within a few miles of Coupeville. (See the map at the end,) Directions: From Highway 20 in Coupeville, take Main Street south toward the ferry for 3 miles. Just around the bend at the top of the hill there’s a small gravel parking area on the left. This parking lot serves the Walking Ebey Trail and the Admiralty Inlet Preserve. OR park at Rhododendron County Park 2 miles south of Coupeville on Highway 20.
By Bike and Bus: There are wide shoulders from Coupeville on South Main Street which turns into Engle Road. Take this road 3 miles from Coupeville to the trailhead parking area at the top of the hill on the left. Traffic tends to come in waves with each ferry landing. No bikes are allowed on the trail. Please wear something bright while riding or walking next to the road. Fare free Island Transit Route 1 can stop at Jacobs Road, a short walk on a bike path from Rhododendron County Park on Highway 20. To take the bus toward Coupeville, use extreme caution to cross the road. Or, as I described in the story, on weekends, call ahead for an On-Demand ride from Coupeville to the trailhead on Engle Road. Or, on weekdays, catch the Route 6 bus to Camp Casey Inn (which is as close as the Route 6 bus comes to the trailhead) which is a short walk to the trailhead across from the Admiralty Inlet Preserve. For the fare free bus schedule and to arrange On-Demand service, call 360-678-7771 or visit www.islandtransit.org/ Mobility: This trail is mostly level but can be rough with grass, roots, and some muddy spots. Road crossings may require the ability to move quickly. There are stairs on the east side of Fort Casey Road. The main trail is 3.5 miles. Or from the trailhead to the Prairie Wayside is 1.5 one way. I started school a little early as a child, so I was always the youngest in my classes. Time passed. When I became a new ranger, I looked around at the elder rangers and felt like they were ancient relics. They looked at me and wondered if I should still be in high school. I didn’t even need to shave yet. Time passed (as it always does). I remember being in a park training session with sixty or eighty of us and realizing I was the oldest one there. I had become one of those ancient relics. It was time for me to retire before someone tried to put me in a museum. I had stayed in good shape all those working years, and I tried to do that in retirement too, staying active and involved. I would look in the mirror, and in my delusions, see a man in his late forties, maybe early fifties. Then I’d turn on the lights and gasp, “Who is this wrinkled old man?” Now I go shopping in town or attend a presentation and look around at all the people much younger than me. Well, that’s not true in Anacortes, where it seems half its citizens are older than me. Still, isn’t it amazing how young the store checkout people are, or my grandchild’s schoolteacher, or staff at a restaurant? They should still be in high school. When my doctor said there might be a problem in my heart, my illusions of youthfulness vanished. He needed to look inside. After the operation on Friday, he said my heart looked pretty good, all things considered. However, he said, for the next few days I should not do any vigorous activity, to let the surgery site heal. I could go hiking, but it had to be short, mostly level, with easy footing. I chose Hoypus Point, just a mile long, mostly level, mostly pavement or firm gravel. It’s a mellow place to meditate as you walk, surrounded by the immensity of ancient trees, ancient landscapes, and the ever-flowing tides and currents. This is the dead of winter. Maples and alders are bare. No birds greeted me; silence gripped the air. Frost coated the edges of the roadway. I walked slowly, partly out of obedience to my doctor, but mostly to revel in this natural landscape, to be grounded in the wisdom of the woods. The messages were clear and concise: "You're old, deal with it." Ancient cedars and firs towered high above, some with burned bark, some angled and broken from injuries and disease, but still standing strong, still casting seeds, creating life-giving oxygen, and protecting the younger generations. A handful of giants had fallen, opening a patch of sunlight that will quickly be claimed by the next generation. Looking closer in this deep dark of January, I saw that buds swelled on the branches of elderberry, salmonberry, spruce, and salal. The earth is awakening once again. The circle of life never ceases. As I walked, I passed and was passed by a dozen other hikers, joggers, and dogwalkers, all of them younger than me except for one, an older woman who strode quickly and deliberately. A young couple held hands the entire way as they strolled along, sharing time and intimacy. Eventually, I arrived at Hoypus Point, where a parking lot has been replaced with plantings, still infants but soon to be a forest, even mature elders someday. Tidal waters drifted lazily out toward the Pass, nourishing barnacles and limpets on the rocks at this low tide. Baker rose above the foothills, a young mountain rising above older Cascade formations. Youth and age are merely steps along the path. As long as my ticker keeps on ticking, I will enjoy this amazing planet and cherish the magical moments given each day to give and love, whatever our age, wherever we are, however we can. jack Trail Conditions: The road is wet but paved, so it’s great this time of year. Fallen trees have been removed to the side of the road. The shorter portion of trail that is gravel is firm and free of mud. The beach can be an alternative loop route, but long tree trunks lie across the beach in places, and some of the footing is composed of grapefruit-sized rocks, covered with seaweed and barnacles – not appropriate for me this week. Make sure you check the tides if you choose to take the beach route; there are few access routes up the bluff to the roadway if tidewaters cover the beach.
Directions: On Highway 20 a mile south of the Deception Pass bridge, go east on Cornet Bay Road to the very end of the road. The trail / roadway goes east beyond the closed gate. Parking permit required. By Bus: The nearest bus stop is about a mile and a half west at the intersection of Highway 20 and Cornet Bay Road. By Bike: Cornet Bay Road is a delight to ride along, with little traffic, though it has narrow shoulders. Highway 20 can be more of a challenge with high-speed heavy traffic at times, and narrow shoulders in places. Mobility: The Hoypus Point route is ideal for those with some mobility issues, such as I had this past week. The beach not so much. The road, almost always closed to traffic, is wide and fairly level. It is paved three-quarters of the way, then becomes a gravel trail the last quarter mile. |
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Maribeth Crandell has been a hiking guide in the Pacific NW for over 20 years. She's lived on Whidbey and Fidalgo Island for decades. As a frequent bus rider she easily makes connections between trails and transit. Archives by date
February 2025
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