 At a trailhead the other day I met some young people among the parked cars. One asked me, “What is your favorite song?” “Goodness.” I said ”That’s a hard question. There are so many.” I have a song in my head almost all of the time. Usually, I’m not even aware, so I paused to listen closer. Caledonia, I told her, a Scottish folk song of longing for loved ones and a well-loved place. It’s like being asked, “What’s your favorite trail?” There are so many, and they’re each like songs that come to mind and linger, replaying fond memories from years gone by. They say you can never step twice into the same river. It's the same for trails. Ever changing, season to season, morning or night, in thick fog or bold sunshine, alone or with friends, the time we saw otters, or the bay filled with kayakers. Today I had an errand that took me across Deception Pass, so I made a stop, to visit a well-loved place, with a favorite song in my head. From Rosario I walked among tall trees making my way between the old log and stone structures, by the rocky shore. Turning away from the Maiden, I passed the Discovery Center and took the trail as it climbed the bluff and hugged the shoreline of Bowman Bay. Madronas seem to dance in their red leotards stretching out over the water. Sturdy Douglas fir, sculpted by wind and weather, looked like bonsai trees on the bluff. A steady stream of boats plowed the waters of Deception Pass, their wakes rhythmically washing the beach. I climbed the hill stopping often to view the bay, looking for otters or seals. A kingfisher sounded. A raven croaked. A flicker flashed its white rump as it swooped along the shore. Chickadees and cedar waxwings called from the same tree, the same branch, singing in harmony. The quiet peace, seeped in with the soft drizzle. Rocky cliffs, adorned with sedum and licorice ferns, rose to one side, a drop to the blue grey water on the other. A red octopus madrona twisted around a dark spire of fir on the bank as if to quietly capture it. A soft cloud layer muffled the sounds of rolling waves below. Entranced I walked until voices from the campground woke me from the spell. I smelled food cooking, caught a glimpse of bikes and campers, and a rainbow flag aloft. Coming out into expansive lawns I admired the CCC shelter built a century ago. Then I climbed the rocky bluff to return. This walk holds a special place in my heart. Just a half hour before or after work, a welcome break in a busy day, a relaxed walk on a weekend with friends. This short trail is a world apart and yet, at the center of it all. A quintessential northwest experience, water, islands, boats, forest, headlands, log and stone shelters, a carved maiden standing guard over the sacred home of her ancestors. Like a favorite song, Caledonia, a song of longing for loved ones and a well-loved place. Let me tell you that I love you and I think about you all the time. Caledonia, you’re calling me, now I’m going home. If I should become a stranger, you know that it would make me more than sad. Calendonia you’re everything I’ve ever had. Listen to Dougie McClean sing it with friends. Maribeth Directions: From Highway 20 at Deception Pass bridge, go north and take the first left onto Rosario Road. In about a mile, turn left onto Cougar Gap Road, and left to the park entrance. Bring your Discovery Pass to park inside the gate.
Bus and Bike: The nearest bus stop is about 3 miles away at the store on the south side of the bridge. This is a busy, winding road with no shoulder so not recommended for bikes. Mobility: The areas at either end of this trail are gentle and open. The trail between has rocky, hilly sections with steep drops on one side.
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 A is for asters, alliums, astilbe and alligators. The four of us were having a fine time on our way down Guemes Mountain. We’d overheard a family playing an alphabet game on their way up the trail. I often do that to entertain myself on a walk, kayak or a long drive. We called out flowers in alphabetical order (with the occasional non-flower variations). When we finished with flowers, we started listing birds as we rode our bikes back toward the ferry. It was a perfect day for a Northwest Sampler, a short little ferry ride, a two mile bike ride, a one mile hike to a beautiful view, and then back to the General Store for lunch. We met Jack and Kath at the Guemes Ferry and after gazing at Elsie the elephant seal on the beach, we walked our bikes onto the boat. It’s a small boat and a tight squeeze as the deck filled with cars, trucks and bikes. Guemes Channel was busy, too. We passed pleasure yachts, kayaks and a tanker with two tugs guiding it back to sea. After a pit stop at the store, we mounted our two wheelers and pedaled along the shoreline road for two miles. At the trailhead, we locked up our bikes and began our hike up Guemes Mountain. The shade of tall trees was welcoming in the heat of the day. Kath picked up a walking stick from a selection left by the trailhead. Lush sword ferns covered the hillside. The gentle grade gave us a chance to visit on our way, stopping to listen for birds, or take a sip of water. Beautiful benches offered a place to rest. Bird song filtered from the canopy softly down and all around us. We climbed steadily to the overlook where we stopped to peer out across the valley toward Cypress Island. Suddenly, a friendly mutt ran up and greeted us. Was this Toto from the Wizard of Oz? The owner caught up and introduced us. We all agreed it was a fine day for a walk. We climbed higher, and talked less as our way grew steeper near the summit. Up ahead, a coyote stepped out onto the trail. We froze, but it turned away and went undercover. As we emerged from the forest, we found a group picnicking on the summit. They reported seeing a fox. No. A coyote pup. They showed us a picture on their phone. We found a shady spot to share a snack and enjoy the view. A turkey vulture swooped low just before us. Maybe we shouldn’t sit still too long. We circled the summit taking pictures of the San Juan ferry, Cypress Island, Samish Island and Mount Baker. What a clear day! Our walk down was brisk as we named wildflowers in alphabetical order. We met other hikers on their way up and down. Kath returned her walking stick at the trailhead and we returned to our bikes for the ride back naming birds this time. A is for Avocet, Auklet, Albatross and anchovies. B is for Blackbird, bittern, bunting and babaganoush. Kath came up with the most original answers. T is for Tanager, Towhee, and tater tots! I tried to picture a flying tater tot. We couldn’t think of a bird that starts with U. Kath offered unicorn. They fly, right? We enjoyed our lunch at the General Store with a view of the water. A little bird serenaded us until the ferry began coming our way. Then we sped down the hill to meet the boat and sail our way home. Maribeth Directions: Take Hwy 20 to Anacortes. At the roundabout on Commercial turn right-north. Drive to 6th Street and turn left-west, turn right on I-Avenue to catch the ferry. Or park in the parking lot at H and 6th. Take your bike on the ferry. On Guemes, turn right and ride 2 miles to the trailhead. Lock your bike.
By Bus: Take Skagit Transit 40X from Mount Vernon, or Island Transit 411W from Oak Harbor to March Point. At March's Point Park and Ride switch to Skagit Transit 410 to Anacortes and then switch to bus 409 to the Guemes ferry. (This is a small county ferry, not the large State ferry that goes to the San Juan Islands.) There is no bus on Guemes Island. A bus can carry 2 bikes. Mobility: The bike ride is easy, nearly flat and only 2 miles. The trail is a narrow, gentle grade for 1 mile one way with rocks and roots along the trail.  Lee says this is her favorite trail with the wildflowers, the meadows, the old growth and views of the water. I like the split rail fence that makes such a nice backdrop for photos of birds and flowers. Of course, it’s there to protect the native prairies keeping people on the trail. Such a lovely way to guide us through the Admiralty Inlet Preserve. We had just finished the Pie Ride, a fundraiser for the Whidbey Camano Land Trust. Dozens of cyclists gathered at Keystone Spit for the start of the month long event. It was fun to see all the colorful cyclists circling Crockett Lake and pedaling up and down the nearby roads. This is one of the most popular places to ride bikes on the island. It’s almost flat and has stunning views of Ebey’s Prairie and Admiralty Inlet with the ferry going back and forth to Port Townsend. Our route passed by several properties preserved by the Land Trust, State Parks and National Parks. We chose the ten mile loop and then decided to stretch our legs with a nice walk afterwards. The new Central Whidbey Parks bus goes right by here seven days a week now, so we could call this a Bus, Bike and Boot Trail. But if you really need a car, there’s a recently improved parking lot across Engle Road from the trailhead which, incidentally, also serves as the trailhead for the new Walking Ebey Trail that connects this preserve with Rhododendron Park. Pockets of prairie on Whidbey are real treasures. I like to visit Admiralty Inlet Preserve in all seasons, but especially in spring and summer when the flowers are blooming. Colorful interpretive panels help us identify the plants we might see. In spring the chocolate lilies were blooming. This week we saw yarrow, Indian Paintbrush, foam flowers, purple asters, ocean spray and wild roses. Lee tested the native blackberries. I love Thimble berries but they weren’t quite ready yet. A deer raised her head in the meadow as we started our walk. White crowned sparrows, song sparrows, towhees, robins, chickadees, goldfinch and house finch, darted in and out of the shrubbery peeping cheerily. The Swainson’s thrush called its lonesome song. We heard high peeps near the edge of the bluff. Ahhh, Pigeon guillemots below. Douglas squirrels chirped at us as we passed. High singing from the tops of the trees got our attention. We stopped to look. Yes, Cedar Waxwings. Then we heard people! Across the meadow two hikers approached. A few minutes later they passed us and climbed the stairs near the old fort installation. We caught up with them near the huge Doug fir as they looked out over the water. Through the trees we saw the fenced in area where plants are kept for restoration work. We turned east and took the trail through the lush, green forest by deep red Elderberry bushes on out to the road. There’s a bike rack next to the kiosk at that trailhead. Three cyclists pedaled up the road as we turned back along the trail. This path borders Engle Road but a curtain of wild roses focused my attention on the trail, the meadows, birds, trees and flowers. The roses and willows screen the trail so well it’s hard to see it when you’re driving by. Look for the bright blue house across the street and then you’ll see the gravel parking area just to the west. When I’m on the bus, I ask the driver to stop at the top of the hill and point out the parking area. The Park bus comes by every 90 minutes daily through Labor Day, perfect timing for a walk at the preserve. For more about the Land Trust and the Preserve click here. Maribeth Directions: From Highway 20 in Coupeville, turn south on Main Street (which turns into Engle Road) and go for 3 miles. The gravel parking area is at the top of the hill next to a brown house. The trailhead is across the road.
Bus and Bike: Island Transit has a new Central Whidbey Parks Bus that runs right by the preserve every 90 minutes daily through Labor Day. The Route 6 bus also passes the preserve on weekdays. All Island Transit buses are free. You can stand by the road and flag it down for your return trip. Two bikes fit on a bus bike rack. Here's the bus schedule. This area south of Coupeville is a great place for a bike ride. It’s almost flat with scenic vistas. Just be aware of ferry traffic and wear something bright as you ride on the shoulder. Mobility: This trail is mostly flat except for a set of stairs on the water side of the loop and short steps on each end of the boardwalks. The surface is mowed grass and dirt and is a bit uneven.  Do you remember when you were in kindergarten or first grade, and you looked at the sixth graders down the hall and thought they were like giants, almost as big as adults? I was in awe of them. I felt very small. “I took a walk in the woods and came out taller than the trees.” -– Henry David Thoreau Sorry, Mr. Thoreau. I never feel that way about trees, ever. I walk among tall trees and come away feeling smaller, not only because they dwarf me with their size and grandeur, or that I’m passing through while they stay planted where they are, but also in seeing my short span of life compared to the centuries they have stood, witnessing people passing by, the ages passing by, and all the while replenishing each of us with air to breathe and continuing to give birth to new seedlings, knowing they will be nurturing future trees in their own death. I feel smaller. I felt small, humble, quiet, and awestruck as Kath and I went to Hoypus Hill one evening this holiday weekend. Cornet Bay was buzzing with cars, boaters, crabbers, kayakers, drinkers, honkers, and bursts of fireworks. We walked easterly away from the noise, then southerly up into the woodlands, into the quietude, alone with just us and the trees. We hiked up West Hoypus Point trail and the hubbub fell away. Sunlight slanted through the branches, although much of the forest was now darkened in shadows. The sizes of the trees, their breadth, their height, their majesty, instills reverence and awe, immediately. I can only share words and photos with you; you have to be here to be immersed in the cathedral holiness of this place. Smell the deep forest baking in the sun. Taste tartly sweet salmonberries. Hear … nothing at all from the human race. The noise has faded away; a Swainson’s might be the only sound. We heard a coyote sing a clear wavering note. A coyote! From somewhere behind us, deep in this forest, it called to others or to the full moon. Murphy hunkered closer to me. Then a few plaintive yips echoed among the trees. Murphy looked over his shoulder and clung to my heels. The light was fading. Back on the East Hoypus Point trail, we again passed among giants, anchored here for centuries, fire scars on some, some now lying where they fell, still rising taller than my six-foot frame. There was a reverent hush across the evening. We came out near Hoypus Point and walked back in silence, mostly, savoring these last moments of light in the woods, the sun golden on the trees, the forest at peace at the end of the day. As it always is. A deer startled us, standing just five feet off the path, motionless, watching us pass. The sun set over Fidalgo, and we were back at our car. No, I don’t feel taller. But I do feel that joy of peace, that kinship, that wisdom of ancient life shared with all who listen. “So the tree rustles in the evening, when we stand uneasy before our own childish thoughts. Trees have long thoughts, long-breathing and restful, just as they have longer lives than ours. They are wiser than we are, as long as we do not listen to them. But when we have learned how to listen to trees, then the brevity and the quickness and the childlike hastiness of our thoughts achieve an incomparable joy. Whoever has learned how to listen to trees no longer wants to be a tree. He wants to be nothing except what he is. That is home. That is happiness.” ― Herman Hesse Directions: From Highway 20 south of the Deception Pass bridge, take Cornet Bay Road east to the end. Hike past the Hoypus Point gate and head up into the hills at the first trail on the right, about a third of a mile.
By Bus: Island Transit has a stop at Highway 20 and Cornet Bay Road. By Bike: Highway 20 is a high-speed, narrow highway with many hills. Cornet Bay Road is slower paced, relatively gentle, but with no shoulder. Bikes are not allowed north of Fireside Trail and south of Hoypus Point Road. Mobility: The roadway is flat and paved for 3/4 of a mile. The trails into the hills, however, are variable in terrain, tread, and elevation gain or loss. A stretch with a plastic boardwalk over a wetland is narrow; some of the trail gets muddy in the off-season. You know, do the math. There may be ten thousand visitors to the park each weekend day, but they are only visitors. With maybe 300 trees per acre and 4000 acres in the park, there are well over a million trees living here, permanent residents. They live here. We visit THEIR home. Most of them outlive us. "The wise man is one who never sets himself apart from other living things, whether they have speech or not.” -- LeGuin |
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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
January 2025
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