 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.
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 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.  Life is full of contrasts. Take this week’s weather for instance. One day is sunny and mild, while the next is foggy and chill. Or it’s pouring down rain in the morning, and then clears for a beautiful blue sky afternoon. I’m grateful for both, though I get a bit weary of the cold and damp of winter. It makes me appreciate the sun when the clouds finally part. As the fog was clearing on one of those beautiful blue sky days, I made my way to Possession Beach Waterfront Park where there’s a flat sandy beach, and, in contrast, a steep forested trail. A red tail hawk eyed me as I left my car and walked toward the waterfront. The view from its perch atop a fir tree must have been even better than mine from the hillside above the beach. I walked over a bridge spanning a cattail marsh. Song sparrows called from a wild rose hedge nearby. The beach looked like it had weathered some storms with flotsam and jetsam cast high up on shore, beyond the stunted trees. A logstical course lay between me and the water’s edge. After clamoring over the driftwood, I took a short stroll on the beach. The boat launch was quiet, no cars in the parking lot or boats on the water. A goldeneye paddled by, and farther out, a flock of cormorants cruised in the current, their long necks reminding me of periscopes. I closed my eyes and pointed my face toward the sun, a solar collector. Crossing the driveway I headed to the Dorothy Cleveland Trail. I like coming here in winter when branches are bare and sunlight reaches the forest floor. I crossed the bridge to the trailhead and stepped over a log, a recent casualty of winter winds. After kicking a few branches to one side, I continued on, crossing Franklin Road and climbing the steps on the other side. And I kept climbing. The trail winds this way and that between bare alders and stately cedars. Licorice ferns and mosses cling to the maples. Benches await at intervals, each green with moss. Coming around a bend in the trail, a symphony of bird song surrounded me. A chorus of kinglets called and chickadees answered as they flitted through the ocean spray. A flicker drilled on a snag up slope. A song sparrow pecked at a thick blanket of moss at the base of a maple. A nuthatch tooted its horn in the distance. I stood still by a huckleberry bush and waited. Soon a kinglet alighted within a few feet of me, flashed its golden crown and was gone. The trail coursed upward with a steep drop to one side looking over the road. Both twist sharply around curves. Midway up, the trail has some muddy spots. Branches were laid down for better traction. I stepped gingerly over and soon found my feet on firmer ground. Up and up I climbed and peered between the branches at peek-a-boo views of the water and mountains beyond. On the summit, tall evergreens cast their deep shade. A huge cedar with outstretched arms welcomed me. I sat down to have a snack hearing the call of a passing raven. Nearby, surprisingly, a small, green water fountain sits like a cherry on top. I took a trail between salal hedges to loop back down. With a view of the snow covered Cascades, and the sound of a train across the water. I met a small boy and his mother on their way up. He was eager, charging onward, as I made my way down. I smiled reflecting how I’d also started young in my outdoor pursuits and how many wonderful adventures I’ve experienced since then. On the beach I saw an eagle surveying the shore. Surrounded by beauty, I celebrated the sun, and the shadows. Maribeth Directions: From Highway 525 at Ken’s Corner near Clinton, take Cultus Bay Road 5 miles south until it makes a right hand turn. Then go straight on Possession Point Road for another 1.5 miles. Turn right at the sign for Possession Beach Waterfront Park. The Dorothy Cleveland Trail is across the driveway near the boat launch. Its 1.5 miles round trip.
By Bus or Bike: The fare free Island Transit bus route 58 offers on demand service to Bailey’s Corner, 8-5 Monday through Friday. The park is 2.1 miles from there. Call 360-678-7771 for details on how to arrange a ride. Two bikes can fit on a bus bike rack. Cultus Bay Road has a good shoulder for cyclists, but Possession Point Road has none and is winding and steep but with little traffic. Please wear something bright and use a light when walking or cycling along the road. Mobility: The waterfront park is easily accessible with picnic tables near the boat launch on the beach. The Dorothy Cleveland Trail is steep, narrow and muddy in places, but offers benches at intervals. I’d recommended a walking stick and a plastic bag to sit on as benches are wet this time of year.  “Adults follow paths. Children explore. Adults are content to walk the same way, hundreds of times, or thousands; perhaps it never occurs to adults to step off the paths, to creep beneath rhododendrons, to find the spaces between fences.” – Neil Gaiman We were looking for adventure, something different, a place to ‘step off the path’. We started at Starbucks – okay, not exactly different or off the beaten path. With our drinks in hand, we walked from the store to the trailhead leading into Freund Marsh. Another couple with a dog had parked at the trailhead and entered right after us. Murphy pooped as we started out, so I bagged it up, took it back to the garbage can behind us, turned around – and that dog-walking couple was gone. Impossible, I thought. I had turned my back for just twenty seconds. They didn’t go east or west on the gravel trail; where did they go? I saw a mowed opening in the brush leading to a huge grassy field. There they were, heading through the meadow to the beach beyond. Ah, a beach walk at the natural area! I had never been across that field or to that beach. “Let’s follow them!” I said. The mowed path parallels a wide drainage waterway. The other couple looped around the meadow back to the main trail where we had started, but we turned beachward. In a season when dreary clouds and dark, dank forests can make us feel shut in, it felt so liberating to be in this grassland under a full dome of sky and then to get to the seashore with expansive views in every direction. Kath leaned back and spread her arms wide. Waves lapped the shoreline. A huge swath of winter driftwood covered much of the sand as the tide ebbed. Seagulls hunted for anything they could find, but mostly just stood there, taking off as we approached and then dropping back behind us as we passed. We walked west along the trail above the beach as far as possible before “No Trespassing” signs marked the end of public property. We turned around and walked back along the beach itself. Our daily cares were carried away by the gentle breeze on this sunny day. Gulls kept playing their hopscotch with us. Sandpipers (“peeps”) took up the game too, skittering along the water’s edge, their legs a blur. Then a black turnstone caught our eye as it danced with the waves, flew to a small rock just above the surf, and posed there in the late afternoon light. A flotilla of greater scaups swam together just beyond. We walked back to the beach at Windjammer Park. A crow and a gull perched and posed on driftwood lookouts. Logs buried the entire beach here, forcing us to scramble across logs big and small to get to the paved trail just above the tides. The splash park and playground lay silent this time of year, but the walking path teemed with walkers, scooters, baby strollers, bubble blowers, joggers, families, and friends. Here we were, just a block from downtown Oak Harbor, but feeling lightyears away from the city and from winter, dancing under open skies at the beach. It was far more fun than we expected. What could be better? We crossed a street and there we were, full circle, back where we started. But now feeling refreshed and recharged. "In every walk with nature, one receives far more than he seeks." – John Muir jack Trail Conditions: one of the reasons we chose this hike was to avoid muddy trails and deep woods, to take a break from winter conditions. The graveled and paved walkways here are in great condition. The meadowland and beach were an unexpected surprise, and also great for hiking.
Directions: Located along the waterfront of Oak Harbor, you can start at the west end along Scenic Heights Road, or the entrance at Southwest Bayshore Drive, or the main entrance at South Bayshore Drive, or the eastern end near Harbor Station. By Bus: Get off the bus at Harbor Station and cross the street to the east end of the park, or walk two blocks south from the Walmart bus stop. By Bike: City streets are busy and mostly narrow for bikes but relatively flat in this part of town. Mobility: The Freund Marsh trail is firm gravel. The Windjammer Park trails are paved, wide and basically flat. The meadow trail in Freund Marsh is mowed grass, fairly firm. |
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