Touchstone: (noun) a fundamental or quintessential part or feature. We all have them: moments, places, and actions in our lives that become the essence of who we are and the directions we take. They may be events that happen to us, choices we make, or the heritage we are raised in that indelibly stamps us and sets the course of our lives; or that creates a turning point, a new awareness, a new venture, a new us. Think about yours for a few minutes. And I invite you to read on about some of mine, and for others, residing along one of my favorite trails close to home. The afternoon had sunshine breaking through the clouds after a dreary wet morning. Kath and I parked at the southern parking lot of Bowman Bay to hike out to Rosario. It’s a meaningful place and week for us. To begin with, this is where we first met, this very same hike. The parking lot sits on land that used to be an alder wetland, the backshore to the beaches of Bowman Bay, once home to a diversity of wildlife. During the Forties the Department of Fisheries filled it in to raise salmon and other marine fishes -- an ironic twist, right? Do the wildlife remember their ancestral home? We walked north past the CCC museum, shelter, and campground. In the Thirties the CCC harvested local trees and gathered rocks to build the shelter, ranger house, and parking areas. Their intent was to build facilities that complemented the landscape, that blended in naturally. They succeeded with quintessential features of the park. I glanced over at the campground. One of my life touchstones sits there. It’s the campsite where my family tented when I was three, where I looked at fish tanks during the day, listened to stories around a campfire in the evening, and slept to the lullaby of lapping waves at night -- fundamentals indelibly stamped upon me. Kath and I hiked up the steep hill toward Rosario. People streamed by. One group of women stopped Kath and said, “We need you”! They were on a scavenger hunt, and needed a stranger, a blue coat, and a dog. Kath provided all three! Sunlight glistened on the water and a blue kayak; madrone trees glowed as hikers passed by; oyster catchers chattered as they landed on a tiny rock island below us. On that first hike together, we had heard oyster catchers here; I had asked Kath then if she knew what they were just from the sound. She did! Today we hiked on, finding a middle-aged couple sitting on the bench not far from Rosario. A family had donated the bench years ago. Their daughter had loved this place; she died from cancer at the age of 18. Their gift became one of their touchstones. We dropped down to the promontory jutting out into Bowman Bay just east of Rosario. It was here that I proposed to Kath a year ago this week. She said yes! -- after some deliberation on her part, and for me a few missed heartbeats! This point will always be one of our touchstones, of course. Coming in to Rosario, gaggles of people wandered everywhere on this holiday weekend. This was once home for local tribes. Home -- the beaches and marine waters at their doorstep, the uplands with cedar shelters and homefires burning, where families gathered, children played, and where their ancestors still reside. It still is their home, with KoKwalAlWoot a reminder to us all as she stands firmly planted in the earth, sharing her story to any who will listen. After a potty break, it was time to head back, having unwrapped some of the stories we carry, and celebrating others we find along the trail, where countless touchstones reside on sacred ground. Directions: From Highway 20 just north of the Deception Pass bridge, turn onto Rosario Road and take an immediate left onto Bowman Bay Road. Park in either of the parking lots available and follow the trail north (to the right).
By bus: There is no nearby bus service to this area. By bike: Rosario Road is narrow and hilly, but with far less traffic than Highway 20. Mobility: The trail is graveled, flat and wide at Bowman Bay, but becomes steep and rough as it heads to Rosario.
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Friends are in Hawaii, Arizona and Mexico. Here this week, we’ve had snow flurries, wind advisories, and then, an absolute gift from above, a sun break! After slipping on icy roads at dawn, the sun came out, temperatures climbed and I left my office for a quick walk, a little vitamin D, a mid-winter break. When we think of trails most of us think of parks or wilderness areas. I read about the nature pyramid, like the old food pyramid that illustrates what to eat to maintain good nutrition. At the top of the nature pyramid are wilderness emersion experiences we try to get once or twice a year, a week in a National Park or a kayak trip somewhere. Just below that on the pyramid is the weekend campout somewhere nearby where we can roast s’mores around the fire. At the base of the pyramid is the neighborhood stroll, walking the dog or pushing a baby stroller. A daily walk is a recommended for good health and peace of mind. When I worked in downtown Coupeville I’d take my lunch break and walk the half hour loop on the Krueger Trails. It was enough to get the blood circulating and I could stop in at the library or the post office on the way. I walked that loop almost daily for years. On this sunny day, I took the bus into Coupeville after work and stepped off at the hospital. Turning west on First Street I walked the sidewalk down the hill as a woman walked up with a dog in a stroller and another on a leash barking wildly as if this was the most fun they’d ever had! The woman said the dog in the stroller was paralyzed, but both seemed to enjoy their outing immensely! At Wilkes Street I turned north and walked by a row of colorful town homes. An orange cat scrutinized me while balancing effortlessly on a stair rail. Across the street in a vacant lot, two deer grazed undisturbed. The path led by a little free library and then by a kiosk where another trail led through the woods. I was enjoying the sun, so kept walking by homes and gardens to where the sidewalk ends at the village green. I stopped briefly at the library before cutting across the green to the west. The city parking lot, the post office and rows of businesses stood between me and the water, but I could see Penn Cove over the rooftops. At the far end of the parking lot there’s an historic barn, now converted to restrooms. A bike rested against the weathered wall. A few picnic tables stood on the grass. Come April this would be the site of the Saturday farmer’s market. The trail on the far side is hedged by rosehips with storm water ponds on each side. I spoke with a woman out walking with a deer just behind her. She pointed to a heron just behind me. I zigzagged south on Krueger Street and then west on 7th climbing the hill to Broadway. A man and a woman passed me, each pushing a baby stroller. Turning south on the gravel Broadway Trail with a row of mailboxes between me and the paved street, the trail climbed gradually and left the houses behind. Red madronas caught the afternoon sun as I passed a bench where a trail cuts through the woods toward the kiosk on Wilkes Street. I kept walking and passed the church to the wide lawn. Just before reaching the highway I turned east to complete my loop. I passed the community gardens and winter pond before entering the woods and making my way back toward Main Street. A flock of teens passed on their way home from school. I chatted with hospital staff before we caught the bus home. A walk such as this is part of the daily recommended requirements. We all need a little sun, a bit of vitamin D, a winter break. Maribeth Directions: Take Highway 20 to the stop light in Coupeville and turn north. Drive to 8th Street and turn left. Go one block and cross Alexander Street to enter the town parking lot. Pick up the trail on the west side of the village green and go counterclockwise.
By Bike and Bus: Island Transit Routes 1 and 6 will take you to Coupeville. Get off at the Coveland Street stop just north of the town parking lot, or at the hospital. Coupeville is bike friendly except for the steep hill on North Main Street coming up from the water. The speed limit is 25 through town. The trail is bike-able if you are careful to accommodate the pedestrians and their pets. Wear something bright while riding. Two bikes fit on the bus bike rack. Mobility: The trail is sometimes on a sidewalk, sometimes on gravel, and sometimes crosses a wide lawn. It is an easy grade without roots or rocks, but it tips a little to one side along Broadway. What a treat! The sky was blue, the sun was out, and pie was in the forecast. It was a great day to be at Greenbank Farm! Even if I don’t have a dog, I walked with a friend who does! Her border collie-Ausie mix was excited before they picked me up, suspecting we were going to the fields on the hill with 500 acres of room to run. We parked at the big red barns and put the dog on a leash, temporarily. “If we’re lucky, she’ll poop before we reach the kiosk.” And right on cue... There was a can for such deposits at the kiosk where we paused to take the dog off her leash. From there on up the hill is an off-leash dog park and a favorite gathering place for dogs and their human companions. As we climbed the hill, we met three big, friendly, golden retrievers and stopped to say hello. When their owner reached into her pocket, they knew something good was coming and sat perfectly erect with eyes glued to that generous hand. Further along we paused at the colorful interpretive panel of birds we might see there. It’s a popular place for birds and birdwatchers, with such varied habitats all around the field. On the north side is a large forest. On the east is a wetland. To the west is a lake. Not far off are saltwater shorelines to the east and west. And the wide-open fields offer habitat for songbirds in the brambles and hawks on the wing. I’ve become accustomed to glancing at the single cedar that stands near the highway where bare branches at the top provide a resting place for large birds. Early in the morning I have seen coyotes cross the fields. But by mid-day, dogs rule! It’s like going to a big community event for them. So many dogs meeting and greeting each other. The locals walk their dogs here daily. The people and the dogs all know each other. I met a couple who come from Seattle every couple of weeks with their vezslas. And another couple walked by speaking German with some hefty Labrador retrievers. One group at the top of the hill had three golden retrievers and three dachshunds romping around with a ball they’d found. Big and little, having a great time together. Hunting season had ended so we took a stroll through the woods following the trail signs in a big loop. We only met a few other people there and only one black lab among them. In spots the trail was muddy. Tree rounds had been placed like stepping stones but they were slick on this frosty morning. There was evidence of recent windstorms that had torn and twisted trees. A trail crew had cleared the way which always makes me so grateful. I was amazed at how much sunlight penetrates a winter wood before the leaves emerge in spring. As we emerged from the forest into a tree tunnel that borders the field, a man walked by carrying a small plastic bag tied shut which he dropped into a can at the top of the hill. Then he turned back and forth, whistling and calling, whistling and calling. We stood near the bottom of the tree tunnel where a huge bernese mountain dog ran up, sat down, alert and listening, turning it’s head this way and that. “He’s down here!” I called to the man on the hill. He turned and whistled and the dog went bounding up the hill in a great, shaggy gallop. We walked back into the bright winter sun, meeting and greeting more friends and dogs, huskies and hounds, as we made our way back to the barns. The dog got a treat and a bowl of water at the car. We went inside for pie! Maribeth For a trail map click here. Directions: Take Highway 525 11 miles south of Coupeville or 7.8 miles north of Freeland to 756 Wonn Road just north of the Greenbank Store. Park at the big red barns and enter at the kiosk. Or park just north of Smuggler's Cove Road on Highway 525 and enter through a gate.
Bus and Bike: Island Transit's Route 1 bus stops at a gate on the north end of Smuggler's Cove Road. Be careful crossing the highway. Two bikes fit on a bus or ride the shoulder along the highway, or take Smuggler's Cove Road with less traffic. Wear bright clothes and use a light for visibility. Mobility: The fields have wide mowed paths that are hilly and mostly dry. The trails through the woods are narrow and can be muddy. Hollow In the wake of the once tall cedar groves we find their stumps, hollowed relics to explore, wonder and engage. For a moment we are suspended in this perpetual dance between growth, decay, and forest again
The trailhead was recently expanded to include additional parking (nearly full on this cold January Saturday) and a sharp-looking bulletin board. And a new stretch of trail has been added. Called Frog Forest, it completes a loop for more than two miles of blissful forest sauntering. Hikers and dogs were milling at the trailhead when we arrived; we chatted as Murphy sniffed with his counterparts. Kath and I took the newly-completed Frog Forest Trail to check it out. Scattered small ponds grace the sides of the trail for nearly a half mile. The trail tread is still rough and fresh, but alongside there is abundant wetland habitat for sedges, willows, birds, and of course the namesake amphibians. I can’t wait to hear the cacophony of song on a spring evening. This route soon joins up with more established trails, winding through more established forests. The wind sang deep songs in the firs and bare alders. Our pace became deliberate as we listened to the heartbeat of the land, to the stories of each of the trees as we walked among them, their lives and deaths and new births speaking to us in their ancient language. Some are telling stories as seedlings or sprouts, finding a place of their own. Some are gangly teenagers, and some are middle-aged trees, well established, with scars to prove it. Some are senior citizens, having lived here for centuries, watching the hours and days go by, and creatures like us who come and go like the passing breeze. All these trees stand as brothers, or as lovers, or as mothers and children, as old and as young, all mingling roots and lives together, a shared community. Some are dead though they still stand, giving homes and food to birds, insects, fungi, and much more. Some have now fallen, becoming soil, hosting abundant new life in their death. Growing, decaying, the forest continues... (below) The southern trail enters a sacred cedar grove. Our pace slows, our conversation ceases. We just listen instead, hearing whispers of holiness. One cedar fell decades ago, but still lives, its branches on one side now a row of full-grown trees too. Rare paper birch trees wave their branches in song as sap once again begins to swell their buds. A rocky pool of water below reflects their canopies. When I am among the trees, especially the willows and the red cedars, equally the birch, the firs and hemlock, they give off such hints of gladness. I would almost say that they save me, and daily. I am so distant from the hope of myself, in which I have goodness, and discernment, and never hurry through the world but walk slowly, and bow often. Around me the trees stir in their leaves and call out, “Stay awhile.” The light flows from their branches. And they call again, “It's simple,” they say, “and you too have come into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled with light, and to shine.”
We emerge back at the trailhead, finishing the circle of pathways. As we reflect on our time in the Dog Woods, we envision family and dear friends, loved ones with newborns, young adults, or aging seniors, all of us in our perpetual dance within the circle of life. Guemes Island is part of the ancestral homelands of the Coast Salish peoples and the Samish Indian Nation, who lived throughout the San Juan Islands from time immemorial. The Samish name for the island translates to “Lots of Dogs” Island, where the Samish raised the Salish Woolly Dog, whose long white hair was sheared and spun for weaving.
Dog Woods is intended to remind us of this Samish history, and the dogs and people who have wandered the beaches, meadows, and forests of the island. Directions: Take the Guemes Ferry from 6th and I in Anacortes to the island. If on foot, we enjoy walking the beach from there passed Peach's Preserve to Kelly’s Point and taking the stairs there to West Shore Road. Go north about a quarter mile to the trailhead. By Bus: Route 410 of Skagit Transit goes to the Guemes Ferry in Anacortes. By Bike: From downtown Anacortes take 6th Avenue westward to the ferry. Sixth Avenue is basically flat with little traffic. After landing on Guemes, bike on South Shore Road from the ferry about a mile west to West Shore Road and then north to Dog Woods. Mobility: The trails are mostly narrow and uneven. A dirt roadway bisecting the forest is wider, but with ruts and uneven terrain of varying firmness. |
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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
October 2024
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