 You know that old fable of the wind and sun vying to find out which was stronger. They challenged each other to see who could strip a traveler of his coat. The wind sent a cold howling blast, but the man just gripped his coat tighter. For her turn, the sun simply warmed the land. The man soon took off his coat. The Aesop moral, of course -- gentleness and kind persuasion win where force and bluster fail. Up until today, our winds and rains have had full force and reign over our land, succeeding only in getting me to reach for my coat and several other layers for the past six months before I even opened our front door. The wind’s strength has been exceeded only by its wearying overstay. It continued this past week, as rain threatened, and the wind blew with gale force. This day was our only chance to explore a local trail this week, so off we went. We parked at the south end of the Padilla Bay Shore Path. There were only two cars in the parking lot. Brave people, Kath said. Insane, like us, I said, trying to hold the car door open against the wind long enough to get out. The dike trail is at least well drained regardless of the weather. But it is truly fully exposed to any breeze, with miles of flat, treeless farmland and seashore in every direction. As we began walking west, a couple passed us, having gone only a short way. Good luck, they said. And then they laughed. Uh-oh, I thought to myself. We wore layers of warm clothes, puffies, hoodies, hats, and gloves. It was almost enough. The wind penetrated any gap, any seam. Fortunately we were now heading northward, the wind at our backs. Then Kath reminded me that eventually we would have to turn around. She’s right. Uh-oh. The tide was out, the mud flats bleak and lifeless. A handful of birds took to the wind in flight, with sandpipers flitting the flats, a harrier hanging above the freshly-furrowed farmland, and a turkey vulture hovering, waiting for us to collapse, maybe. Then we saw the tree, the large cedar that once stood proudly alongside the trail, for centuries perhaps. It lay on its side, freshly fallen, roots rising belly up. The wind had won that battle.  “The wind is a racer, a wild stallion running.” - John Denver, Windsong At the halfway point, we were feeling battered. I suggested to Kath that she and Murphy continue the rest of the way, and I turn back and meet them in Bay View with the car. She said no, she will go back for the car so that I can finish the hike and share the story of the second half of the trail. I know her voice well enough to know that objecting would be fruitless. She faced the gale winds to go back while I rode with them the rest of the way. The north half of the dike trail has been built up with rocks to slow down the rise of the tides. Good luck with that, I thought to myself. I took pictures of emerging apple flowers, tracks in the mud, and the sky lowering, threatening us even more. Three animated walkers passed me, heading south. Our greetings were blown away in the breeze, but the smiles said it all. It was crazy wild but a joy to be out here, regardless of the hurricane. I arrived at the northern trailhead a couple minutes after Kath arrived with the car. Rain began to fall. We turned on the heat, removed our coats, and savored the stormy experience. And now, as you read this, the sun should have returned, our coats retired to the closet, our puffies forgotten. The Padilla path will fill with walkers, joggers, bikers, sun-seekers, sundresses and shorts. It’s all about timing. jack Directions: On Highway 20 at the La Conner - Whitney intersection ("The Farmhouse"), go north on Bay View Road about a mile to the parking area on the west side of the road. There is room for about 10 cars. Or park at the north end of the 2.1 mile trail in Bay View, a couple hundred yards northwest of the actual trailhead.
By Bus: there is no transit service here. By Bike: the roads in this area are nearly all flat; avoid Highway 20 if you can by taking parallel roadways, as the amount of traffic is horrendous; however, the shoulder is generous on Highway 20, not so much on other roads. Mobility: the trail is readily accessible with a firm gravel pathway, level the entire way except for a short angled approach at each end.
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 On the first Earth Day I walked to school with a friend picking up trash alongside the road. Our bags grew heavy. The hour grew late. We called mom for a ride. The school secretary didn’t believe our excuse. She looked at us sternly and sent us to class. Since then I’ve helped orchestrate many Earth Day events. Once I arranged to have a couple of wolves brought in to meet a crowd at a park in Bellevue. At Lake Crescent children crawled through a giant salmon sculpture to see the watershed mural inside. April is Whidbey Earth and Ocean Month with dozens of organizations offering guided walks, talks and restoration projects. On April 29th in Freeland, we’ll have Whidbey 101 with everything you need to know about living on the island. I’ll be there with info on how to reduce your carbon footprint by taking the bus. You can learn how to grow organic veggies, manage a pasture, or how to treat your septic system. You could volunteer to build trails, survey shorelines, or help provide programs for kids. Learn how to prepare for the next wind storm or king tide. This year? Honestly, I wasn’t even thinking about Earth Day. They say Earth Day is every day and that’s what it has become for many of us. On any given day I might be hiking, picking up litter, or teaching people how to use the bus. I think Edward Abbey said something like when we’re all out there working to save the environment, don’t forget to spend time enjoying it, too. So last Saturday I went for a hike at South Whidbey State Park, and afterwards, joined a group to eradicate aliens. I went early and walked down the hill through the old campground where paved roads provide wheelchair access to the magnificent forest. Turning down a side trail, I was struck by the mighty maples and their gnarly trunks. Bees were buzzing between salmonberry blossoms. Kinglets flitted about in the canopy. Douglas squirrels scolded and scampered across the trail. Towhee peered through the shrubs. I heard a woodpecker high up in a snag and a nuthatch tooting in the distance. A Pacific wren sang with delight. A Swainson’s thrush called its spiraling song. As the trail twisted and turned down toward the water I heard the most mystical call of all, a loon. At the end of the trail, the bluff has worn away and the stairs tilt sideways. A rope offered assistance in climbing the last 20 feet to the beach. Nearby a flock of mergansers dipped and disappeared, only to reappear a moment later. Two gulls stood on a driftwood branch just above the water like lifeguards at the pool. I walked the beach and took it all in, the grey morning, the steady breeze, the distant mountains. Then climbing back up the bank, I thanked whoever had secured the rope, and moved briskly up the trail to join the work party by the ranger’s house. Margie Parker had circled her group by then. Friends of Whidbey State Parks were there to help remove non-native plants, or aliens. We introduced ourselves, got tools and directions, then set to work. Lach took the holly and spurge laurel (a rhododendron look-alike) while the other 6 of us began digging up a carpet of Archangel, an invasive ground cover that chokes out the native vegetation. Some of us had worked together before, installing stairs or cleaning campgrounds. After a while Margie called for a cookie break. She conferred with the Ranger about the projects that need work in the state parks between Joseph Whidbey and Possession Point. By noon we’d cleared a wide area with 5 garbage bags of Archangel and a pile of holly and spurge laurel. Just before I pulled my last plant, I discovered a salamander, still as a stick, but much cuter. Margie marveled at it, too, and then tucked it under a fern. Maribeth Click here to become a Friend of Whidbey State Parks. (Deception Pass State Park has a separate Friends Foundation.) Check out what’s happening during Whidbey Earth and Ocean Month here. Find out more about Whidbey 101 here: Directions: From Highway 525 at the light in Freeland, drive north a half mile, then turn left at Bush Point Road. Follow it for 5 miles to the park. From Greenbank take Smuggler’s Cove Road 4.5 miles south to the park. (Bush Point Road turns into Smuggler’s Cove Road.)
By Bike and Bus: Bush Point Road, which turns into Smuggler’s Cove Road, has wide shoulders and usually not much traffic. Island Transit fare free Route 1 stops at the park entrance on Monday-Friday. There is no bus service to the park on weekends. You can put 2 bikes on the bus bike rack. Please wear bright clothes when walking, biking or catching the bus by the road. For a bus schedule click here. Mobility: The old campground loops are paved, closed to traffic and offer a good forest experience for those with mobility challenges. Enter by the restrooms. It’s a little hilly.  Remember those care-free days when you climbed trees, dodged waves on the beach, danced with the wind, or lay in a meadow and watched clouds drifting by? “If you never did you should. These things are fun and fun is good.” -- Dr. Seuss Remember when you didn't care about taxes, finances, health, or relationships, and the future consisted of whose house you would play at after school, and what you were having for dessert that night? Yes, I know, that was a long time ago, yet it can still feel like yesterday. That’s a little how we felt this weekend. We had just finished our taxes (the pain was now subsiding), we felt good, life was joyful, and the future was not our concern for the day. The wind howled. Whitecaps filled the bay, trees bent at the waist, but the rainshadow was holding back the showers. “Let’s-go-to-the-beach,” I suggested, and Kath added “... at Guemes Island!” We felt like adults in kids’ bodies. What a privilege to walk onto a ferry from downtown and head across the high seas to a remote island, just five minutes and two dollars away. We rocked and rolled on the boat, smiles and grins filling our faces. From the Guemes ferry dock it’s a half-mile beach walk west to Peaches Preserve, a favorite of ours. Murphy ran after the balls we threw along the beach, which was sandy and wide at low tide. He loves to play chase, finally pouncing on the ball amid an explosion of sand. The wind pushed our backs as we strolled along. Waves crashed ashore; ducks bobbed on the waves like seasoned kayakers; seagulls tacked into the wind then glided back with delight. Vultures hung like kites overhead, wings wide and steady as they rode the breezes. Do animals play? Watching these fellow animals convinced me. Today we could not only stretch our legs, but also stretch our wings, and play. I took that literally when I lifted my coat over my head like a sail, stood on a high piece of driftwood, and jumped into the wind. Let’s just say that I am fortunate that the sand is soft at Peaches. Being down now at Murphy’s level, I felt the sting of sand as it blew along the driftwood, building small dunes, tossing the leaves of grass. Kath helped me back to my feet. At the west end of the preserve a trail leads off the beach into the grassy meadow and along the shore of the cattail-filled wetland. Two orphaned gloves hung on logs to mark the beginning of the trail. Kath leashed up Murphy and we headed inland but soon found a magnificent bench overlooking Guemes Channel. We hung out there for a few minutes as sunlight sparkled offshore. Behind us, flowers bloomed in the warmth of spring. We got our noses up close and personal to the Oregon grape. Check out the movie link below to see who joined us there. These flowers are SO fragrant as they emerge! I lay on the ground between them, watching the clouds racing above us. Red-winged blackbirds, hummingbirds, and a white crowned sparrow graced our day with windswept songs and beauty. Trees waved their hands and joined the chorus with the breezes in their branches humming along. We entered the forest at the east end of the preserve, walked the forest trail with its bright green growth of spring, then returned to the beach. Here the full force of the wind was now in our faces. No matter. We zipped our coats up a little higher, laughed at the feeling of childish freedom we enjoyed this day, headed to the Guemes Store for a bio-break, and then caught the ferry for a wave-tossed trip back home. “Today was good. Today was fun. Tomorrow is another one.” – Dr. Seuss jack You gotta check out the video of the windy fun! One minute long... https://youtu.be/lZ_vhGJWQnk Directions: Bike or bus to the Guemes Ferry Terminal at 6th Street and I Avenue in Anacortes. Take the ferry to Guemes Island. Walk west on the beach a half mile to the Peach Preserve beach access, or take South Shore Road 1/2 mile west to the forest trailhead.
By bus or bike: Skagit 410 bus goes right to the ferry landing in Anacortes. Follow the directions above from there. Mobility: the beach is soft sand part way, and gravel for part of it too. The roadway is paved and gently rolling, but the narrow trail at the Preserve has roots, rocks, and uneven terrain.  A walk in the woods is inspiring. The moist mosses and ferns, the tall swaying trees, the textures and patterns of leaves, sticks, rocks on the trail, the shapes and size and color of plants and fungi, and the sound and movement of birds, deer and other animals. All of it stirs my senses, captures my heart and imagination. They say a walk outside gets the creative juices flowing. So sometimes I don’t appreciate the manmade elements we bring and leave behind that interrupt my experience on a forest walk. I say sometimes, because sometimes those manmade elements add to my natural experience. Take, for instance, a cairn on a rocky trail or a beach walk. I’ve seen cairns built as directional aids where they are sorely needed. And cairns of no practical use, but are organic works of art showing balance, patience and harmony. I can appreciate that. So, to be honest, a walk at the Price Sculpture Forest in Coupeville is mixed for me. I’m one of those dinosaurs that are slow to embrace all the technological trends currently available. I enjoy leaving them behind whenever possible. So when I arrived at Price Sculpture Forest early one Saturday morning, I was rolling my eyes at the signs at the entrance with their QR codes that link your smart phone with their website for a guided tour with videos of the artists. I didn’t link up. I turned and started walking… taking pictures with my smartphone. The first piece I saw was a sculpture called Water by an artist I’d met and seen in action in her studio. She works with a diamond bladed saw. I could picture her at work while I ran my hand over the smooth glossy stone. A figure looking like a discus thrower greeted me at the start of the trail. Soon after I came upon a wide, low, arrangement that seems to have erupted from the forest floor, like a fairy ring. I heard something moving through the salal and stood still waiting. Three deer moved closer and crossed the trail in front of me one by one. Kinglets chatted overhead. A woodpecker drilled nearby. Ravens called in the distance. I wondered what they thought of this gallery in their forest home. As I continued I found eagles soaring, horses galloping and salmon swimming through the trees. A colorful bouquet made of stop light lenses and garden tools tickled my fancy. Some large abstract metal sculptures I think would look more at home in a city square. One looks like an alien space ship that’s just landed looking… alien. I realized I generally like the pieces that are more organic, like my surroundings. My very favorite is an actual log that looks as if it fell across the trail and exploded into a burst of four inch square blocks. It’s on both sides of the trail with enough space to walk through it. Incredible! Imaginative! Inspirational! I like the T-rex, made of driftwood that waits with a toothy grin to excite the next one down the trail. It’s just the right height for kids to encounter. Once they stop screaming, they reach into that gaping maw and feel each pointy tooth, giggling all the while. Art is supposed to elicit a reaction, right? What I truly appreciate about Price Sculpture Forest is that it has something for everyone. It sounds like a cliché, but really. The trail is a figure eight and the upper loop is accessible for those with mobility challenges. Volunteers have been carefully building the trail a little wider and smoother each year. Benches provide a place to rest if you need a few minutes. Thank you. For those with little interest in “hiking” or “nature” there are the art pieces. I’d expect that every visitor finds several they like. And the QR code guided tour may be another way to pull some people in. They ask for your comments in a book at the end of the trail, or you can submit them online. Kids can leave a drawing which is another art piece for the growing forest gallery. I liked the pileated woodpecker on a post where you can leave a donation, or you can make a contribution with your digital wallet. Whatever you’re feelings toward technology, you can connect with the trail in your own way, plugged in or unplugged, however you wish. Maribeth Learn more here. Directions: From Highway 20 at the light in Coupeville, turn north on Main Street. Turn right on 9th (which changes to Parker Road) and drive or walk the pedestrian path 1.6 miles to Price Sculpture Forest.
By Bike or Bus: Take fare free Island Transit Route 1 or 6 to Coupeville. Two bikes fit on a bus bike rack. Step off the bus at 9th Street and walk or bike east. There’s a steep hill at the edge of town. A gravel path parallels the road for safe walking. If riding a bike, the speed limit is low and traffic is light on this road. Wear something bright if traveling by bike. A bike rack is provided. Mobility: The upper loop of the trail is smooth and wide enough for wheelchairs. The lower loop is more steep but well maintained. |
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