 Bold. Grand. Wild. Wide open. A world away. Spacious. High. Remote. Quiet. Free. Powerful. Distant views. Room to wander. Big. Big sky, big waters, big beach, big bluffs. These words come to mind when walking between West Beach and Hastie Lake county park trailheads. We walked there this past Sunday, on a clearing, warm-ish, sunny afternoon when parks like Deception Pass, Fort Casey, and Ebey’s Bluff are teaming with crowds. We saw a total of eight people walking the length of this beach, other than an additional handful at or near the trailheads. Whidbey certainly has wonderful places to hike, places that get into guidebooks and travel magazines, and air time on ‘places to visit’ TV shows. You won’t find that here. No, all you will find is two and a half miles of uninterrupted beach, walled away from our everyday world by majestic bluffs two hundred feet high and two miles long. It’s just you and the Strait of Juan de Fuca feeding the Pacific Ocean directly to your feet. It took me about fifteen minutes after we started walking south from the West Beach parking area before I felt my busy swirling mind fade out and I began to hear the gentle swishing of the waves singing a peaceful song, a background rhythm to a new harmony within me. My words will be few. This hike is not one to be described but experienced. And not experienced as a hike, a trail to conquer, getting from one place to another, but as a place to be savored, a world separate from daily life, where wild and free are living beings to meet and get to know. Go, experience the wild heart of life, explore the tidepools if you can, watch for eagles feeding, otters playing, dunlins banking, the sun and clouds dancing, waters sparkling, or whatever the daylight or shadows bring you when you are there. The tides are in our veins, and we still mirror the stars. Go. jack Directions: From Highway 20, 4.4 miles south of Oak Harbor or 6.4 miles north of Coupeville, turn onto Hastie Lake Road and drive to Hastie Lake Beach Park. Or, like we did, park at West Beach County Park a mile south of Joseph Whidbey State Park on West Beach Road, accessible via Fort Nugent Road near the south end of Oak Harbor.
By Bus: Take Route 6 between Coupeville and Oak Harbor. It follows West Beach Road. By bike: See the driving directions above. The roads are mostly narrow, rolling, and relatively little traffic. Mobility: the beach is sandy, gravelly, and rocky. Tides: Make sure you don't go when the tide is high or rising to be high soon.
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 “There’s no glory in climbing a mountain if all you want to do is to get to the top. It’s experiencing the climb itself – in all its moments of revelation, heartbreak, and fatigue – that has to be the goal.” -- Karyn Kasuma We don’t conquer mountains when we climb them, of course. But we conquer something within ourselves, and the mountains help by being there. It’s the climb that rewards us; the view at the top is like a pat on the back, a ‘welcome home’ when you walk in the door after a long journey from far away. The mountains were calling. Kath and I had just finished some big assignments, so we looked for an adventure to celebrate our accomplishments and challenge our bodies. But mountains are in short supply on our islands. Mt. Erie is the tallest on Fidalgo. What about Whidbey? Well, the honor of the highest point on Whidbey goes to a non-descript mound near Strawberry Point. A mound is not a mountain. Goose Rock, closer at hand, has a real peak, and a view. Great. That’s where we would climb. It’s just a little over 400 feet above sea level, so I guess it’s not exactly a climb. Our real goal was just to be outside, to be in the forest, to feel our heart beating and know that we are alive, to smell the scents of life returning as winter fades, to get the good tidings of life, to be one with the earth.  "Today is your day! Your mountain is waiting, so get on your way!” -- Dr. Seuss It was late afternoon. We had less than two hours of daylight. The sun hung low in the southwest, its light already muted by the woodlands. I had forgotten my Discover Pass at home (me, of all people…) so we parked on the shoulder of Cornet Bay Road. The trail there drops down to a small wetland, which we crossed on log bridges that feel like a part of the water and woods. This trail heads to Cornet Bay, at the foot of Goose Rock. The summit looked high from here! Daylight was burning; it was time to get going, straight up the southern trail. We ascended slowly, easily, catching my breath when I needed to, pretending I was taking a picture or studying the beauty of a tree or listening to a bird song. A hiker passed us going down, remarking that we were taking the hard way up. Indeed. Step by step, rock by rock, tree by tree, we climbed higher, and higher, and soon we were on the last switchback, the trees fewer and smaller. And then we were going through an alley of fences at the summit. Some of you may personally know the beauty of a bald head. The top here is bald too, sporting rocks slickened by the glaciers of just a few thousand years ago. On one slick and sloping rock, Kath took a seat rather quickly, skinning her arm as she landed. We had removed our first aid kit a few days earlier for some reason; so we used a towelette wipe and an unused doggie bag to create a bandage of sorts… use what you have, right? Then we strolled over to the highest point on the rock as the sun gave its last light above the Olympics. We were at the summit! We were above the rest of the local world. All our other plans, accomplishments, worries and dreams fell away into the emptiness of light and space around us. Others were here too, enjoying being at the peak, being together, being alive. The time always comes to go back down. We took the northwest trail down to the Discovery Trail, then through the woods and back to Cornet Bay Road. We both felt drained and yet deeply refilled. jack Directions: The trails to Goose Rock begin at the Deception Pass Bridge parking area at the north end of Whidbey Island, or at the Deception Pass State Park office, or along Cornet Bay Road west of the Retreat Center.
“Because in the end, you won’t remember the time you spent working in the office or mowing your lawn. Climb that goddam mountain.”– Jack Kerouac By Bus: Take Island Transit's 411W north from Oak Harbor, stopping near Cornet Bay Road, or 411W south from the March's Point Park and Ride near Anacortes. By Bike: Highway 20 is a busy high-speed highway with narrow shoulders and rolling terrain. The bridge itself is particularly challenging to get across, with no shoulder and a narrow sidewalk with railings on both sides. Mobility: The trails up Goose Rock are challenging, with between 250 and 400 feet of elevation gain in less than half a mile on trails that are rocky, crossed with roots in places, and very uneven footing.  My work is loving the world. Here the sunflowers, there the hummingbird-- equal seekers of sweetness. Here the quickening yeast; there the blue plums. Here the clam deep in the speckled sand. Are my boots old? Is my coat torn? Am I no longer young, and still half-perfect? Let me keep my mind on what matters… which is mostly standing still and learning to be astonished. The robin, the rosehips. The sheep in the pasture, and the pasture. Which is mostly rejoicing, since all the ingredients are here, which is gratitude, to be given a mind and a heart and these body-clothes, a mouth with which to give shouts of joy to the moth and the wren, to the sleepy dug-up clam, telling them all, over and over, how it is that we live forever. --Mary Oliver Beach View Farm Trail -- it’s plain, straightforward, and mostly wide open. It’s a mile and a half walk one way in a straight line, and a mile and a half back. The west end is a natural meadow with a small copse of trees close to a lakeshore, but otherwise the trail is across open pastures and farmland. We began at the west end, near West Beach. We followed the shoreline of Swantown Lake, beneath willows and alders, then through meadow grasses and rosebush hedges. There was no breeze rustling the leaves of the trees, but as we stood beneath them, one leaf fell, then another, and another. As is my autumn habit, I got beneath a falling leaf to catch it, missed, waited for another, missed again, then finally caught one in my hand. I honored it and set it down on the ground to rest after its short lifetime of giving us oxygen and shade. The farm trail heads east from here, along the edge of Beach View Farm. At the farm, several dozen chickens and one rooster flocked around a portable chicken coop, mostly contained by a perimeter fence that had a small gap at one end. Some of them had discovered the opening and escaped through to join us along the trail. Unfortunately, it looked like an escapee from the day before had ended up as dinner for a coyote or other predator. These chickens didn’t seem to care as they stepped among their dearly-departed’s feathers and bones. As we walked further along the open trail, we compared the experience to forested walks in the ACFL, to beach walks such as Ebey’s Bluff or Lighthouse Point, to climbs to the top of Mt. Erie or Guemes Mountain, or nearly any other trail on Whidbey and Fidalgo. The Beach View Farm trail is … different. We were just voicing how plain the trail appears to be when a northern harrier floated on by, just a few feet off the ground, hovered around a potential meal we couldn’t see, then drifted upwards and onwards, soon followed by another flying in a different direction. We passed sheep grazing inside a fenced corral. A large, very large black bull wandered in the corral next door. Distant cows mooed for dinner. Cowpies lay alongside the trail. Plain, straightforward, and mostly wide open -- the way our hearts can be as we are thankful. I came to appreciate the wide-open landscape, the elemental beauty of a place that simply grows our food out of the earth. Walking across farmland seemed appropriate this week. We too are flesh and bones, made of earth. Thanksgiving reminds us to give thanks to our earth and the many lives that sustain us. And we are thankful for each one of you who joins us on our weekly hiking journeys. May your time with family and friends bless you with the joy of being together, hearts wide open, celebrating the cycles of life all around us. jack Directions: From Highway 20 at the south end of Oak Harbor, take Swantown Road 1.4 miles to Wieldraayer Road. Park at the northwest end of the church parking lot (the spots are marked with signs, next to the bulletin board). Or park at West Beach County Park on West Beach Road; walk south 200 feet, then east 300 feet on a gravel road to Island County's Swantown Lake Park.
By bus: Take the new Route 9 bus to the corner of Swantown and Monticello and walk 450 feet to Wieldraayer Road, turn left and walk 1/3 mile to the trailhead. Or take Route 6 stops at West Beach Road and Fort Nugent Road, about a mile from the West Beach trailhead. By bike: the roads in this area are narrow, and somewhat high speed, but with low traffic volume. Mobility: most of the trail is graveled and gently sloped. The Swantown Lake County Park portion is narrow, and only partially graveled.  We had planned to be at La Push for the weekend, along with nearly all my kids and their families. It’s a family tradition to gather there and connect with each other as we wade in the waves, eat, sit by the fire and listen to the rain and surf at night. Instead, I went to the ER, and then by ambulance to Kirkland for the weekend. Cardiac concerns. They get your attention. A heartbeat happens every second. Unless it doesn’t. Where should we hike, Kath asked, late Sunday afternoon. North Beach, I replied. It’s as close to being at La Push as I can get for now. We stepped onto the beach on this last sunny day, the last for a while anyway. Clouds were building, but patiently waiting to deliver their promised rain and the return of winter. The rocks of the North Beach headlands look like they are wrapped in elephant skin. They have lived here for millions of years, channeling the tides, and slowly, so slowly, becoming sand. More sand from the Cascades floats down the Skagit and out to this beach, where it now sifts between my toes. Behind me, massive firs and cedars, primeval and holy, stand on the shoulders of older, fallen brethren, waiting for their time to join them, breathing richly while they can. Trails wander beneath, first trodden by the first peoples here, whose campfires and ceremonies return here in the spirit world after dark, their stories still alive, whispered by the ancestors when a breeze stirs, an eagle flies, or a salmon swims by, if we listen carefully. Kath and I pause under a shelter built by the men of the CCC, the shelter nearly a hundred years old now, a part of the scenery, becoming a part of the forest in time. The view the men had of the Pass as they swung a hammer on the roof still remains, their memory written in the wood. Offshore, a loon lingers, that ancient-looking bird, looking for a meal. The loon is quiet for now as it hunts; it’s haunting call will wait for the dusk. Decaying pieces of driftwood, reposed in their final resting place on the beach, host salal and huckleberry, flowers and grasses, new life in old bones. We hike west to West Point and look back, the beach quiet but sprinkled with visitors strolling and beachcombing as we did, singles, couples, families, finding meaning in the book of time written in the beach and forest and waters. A young couple sit at the point watching the tide turn, lost in thought and meditation. Kath and I explore tidepools, reflecting on what we see in the pool of life before us, a reflection of the life hidden beneath the waters below. We skirt the always-busy parking lot at West Beach and return on the forest trail above the beach. Big maple leaves fall around us, going out in a blaze of glory, a gentle golden rain soft as the fall of moccasins. The trail wanders and rises and falls and rises again, passing spruce, cedar, hemlock, firs and alders, their roots like steps for our feet. We are back in the shadowed temple of trees, our elders. We pass beneath to pay our respect and learn of their ancient wisdom. And I asked them, as in a dream, I knelt down and asked them to make room for me someday. But not soon. Too soon the trail returns to our car. More visitors arrive to take our place. Soon the rains will finally come, and we will cozy up to a fire and dream of summer’s return. jack Directions: From Highway 20 one mile south of the Deception Pass Bridge, turn west at Cornet Bay Road to enter the park. Follow the signs to North Beach to start at the east end of the beach.
By bus: Island Transit stops a couple hundred feet north of the park entrance if northbound, and just south of the entrance if southbound. North Beach is about a mile from the park entrance. By bike: Highway 20 is narrow and fairly high speed through much of this area, with the bridge having no shoulder at all, other than the narrow sidewalk. Mobility: The trail to the beach at the east end is steep and difficult, though short. There is easy access to North Beach at the west end, near the amphitheater, with a level paved and then grassy trail about a hundred feet long. |
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