“The snow has not yet left the earth, but spring is already asking to enter your heart.” -- Anton Chekhov Punxsutawney Phil emerged yesterday from his home on Gobbler’s Knob in Pennsylvania and saw his shadow, so winter continues there for six more weeks. Here on Fidalgo, Groundhog Day was cloudy, so our winter is now giving way to spring. At least that’s what I predict; our marmots are still safely sleeping in their dens and unwilling to comment. Kath and I explored our local Gobbler’s Knob, Goose Rock, on the north end of Whidbey Island. The sun was out, the day calm and kind of warm, almost like spring. As we walked the trail east from the park office, our cares sloughed off our shoulders and a joy returned to our steps. We saw dozens of trees fallen from the winter storms. And we saw the new growth of spring, subtle but unmistakable throughout the forest and meadows. Buds were expanding, this spring’s leaves growing within and ready to burst forth to herald a new season. Green growth carpeted the sides of the trail, a salad of plant life celebrating the coming spring. Some mosses underfoot had created a canopy of green a half inch above the dark soil; we looked up and saw a canopy of green a hundred feet above us. It’s all relative. The intimate, close-up details mirror the larger world we live in. We saw huge tree trunks scarred by fire yet still alive and sharing life. They reflect the stories of sorrows from days past, yet a determination to carry on and continue growing upward. We continued upward, climbing the south slope of Goose Rock. The path is steep, a steady climb; our breathing was labored, but the ever-expanding views encouraged us to carry on. At the top, 484 feet above the sea, we caught our breath and soaked up the scenery of Deception Pass and North Whidbey. Beyond we could see the Cascades and Olympics draped in gray, and the Straits below a pageant of blue, with whitecaps riding the waves. An eagle drifted along below us. The bare rocks invited us to sit a spell and savor this special day. Shore pines gloried in the warm afternoon. We gloried in the sunshine and beauty. The madrones, meadows, and rocky balds of the hilltop gave way to deep wet soil, tall firs, salal and sword ferns as we took the northeast trail back down, through the shadows and coolness hidden from the sun, past old growth trees still here centuries after their first spring. Walking along the perimeter trail we got a peek-a-boo view of the bridge, and looked over to the cliffs of Fidalgo Island, then Strawberry Island, then Ben Ure Island. Heading south, the ferns gave way to grasses and sprouts of new flowers. Big billowing puffball clouds reflected sunshine back onto the woods and trail. Soon madrones again filled the forests; buds expanded on huckleberry branches, ready to sprout. The warmth of the sun filled the trail and our hearts. We followed the trail along Cornet Bay and then back to the park office. It’s the halfway point, Imbolc, the middle of winter. We know that winter is just another step in the cycle of life. But sharing here with you, the readers of our hiking blog, and basking in the warmth of our hearths and hearts, I can't imagine a better fate than the remainder of this long and lustrous winter. jack In the midst of hate, I found there was, within me, an invincible love. In the midst of tears, I found there was, within me, an invincible smile. In the midst of chaos, I found there was, within me, an invincible calm. I realized, through it all, that in the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer.” -- Albert Camus Directions: From the Deception Pass Bridge, drive south three quarters of a mile. The park office is on the left, or east side of Highway 20. The trail starts in the turnaround of the parking lot.
By Bike: Highway 20 is narrow in this area, but the shoulders have enough room to ride single file. The bridge has no shoulder at all; plan accordingly. By Bus: Island Transit 411W northbound stops at Seabolts, just below the park office. Southbound it stops near Cornet Bay Road on the west side of Highway 20, a couple hundred yards below the park office. Mobility: The trail is inaccessible for wheelchairs and other mobile devices. The Goose Rock trail is steep and rocky from the south side, a little less steep and mostly packed dirt going up the northwest trail, and steep and filled with roots going up the northeast trail. The Perimeter Trail goes around Goose Rock, but does have some steep sections, with a trail base that is rocky, root-filled, and/or hard-packed dirt.
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First impressions can be important. But sometimes what we first perceive is only the shell of what lies beneath. True meaning and beauty might be hidden by outward appearances, or by what doesn’t fit our preconceived expectations and experiences. Maybe it takes a change of perspective, a meditative prelude, or an open mind that has no expectations at all other than to be open to surprise, to wonder, to beauty, however it may appear. That can happen with trails. We expect a certain kind of experience or view or environment or destination, but encounter something different, something unexpected. First impressions are not always accurate. This can happen at the Beach View Farm Trail. It’s different. It’s not forested at all; there are hardly even any shrubs. It’s all meadow and farm field. You can see the end from the beginning, whichever end you park at, so at all times you know exactly where you are in your explorations. It does not wend or wind, it goes property-line straight from one end to the other. And yet I find the trail to be an absolute joy every time I hike here. I brought a friend of mine along with me this week, someone who had never been here before. We started at the west end, at West Beach, on a bitingly cold but sunny day. The sunshine warmed our spirits after another stretch of steady rain. I pointed out the eastern end of the trail as we stood at the western trailhead, and we could see the entire route right there in front of us. As we walked through the prairie meadow along the lakeshore, the open meadows and long-distance views welcomed us, so different from being among sight-obscuring trees and shrubs. Waterfowl swam in the lake, pintails and widgeons and mallards and more. A couple eagles soared high above. A northern harrier hovered a few feet above the grasses, looking for an easy meal, floating easily, lazily. Kath looked at me and said “I like this, it’s so open, a meadow environment so different from the usual deep woods of these islands.” The stresses of our day and the season fell away as we followed the trail, watching geese flying above us, seeing the Olympics rising behind us, and the nearby farmlands around us resting for the coming spring. At the footbridge, half a mile in, the terrain changes from meadows to farmland. Dozens of chickens foraged the pasture, protected by a movable fence, so they could add their fertilizer over the entire farm through the course of the year. Cattle grazed on the hill beyond, also rotated across the farm as needed. In 2015 a new generation of Fakkema family farmers began focusing on regenerative agriculture here with pasture cropping, grazing rotation, composting and mobile animal shelters. This replenishes the soil, retains water, and reduces climate impacts, while providing healthier livestock, improved yield, and sustainable food production. Eventually the trail arrives at Wieldraayer Road, which leads to the eastern trailhead. We turned around and headed back down the trail toward the beach, past the farm, across the bridge to the tall grasses and wildlife of the meadow and lakeshore. From here we saw open fields framed by distant forests, open views of the farms, the Strait to the west, the lake to the north, and the sun above. Back at the beach, waves crashed ashore. The Olympics posed for us, modestly draped in coverings of clouds. We took one last look at this trail of farm and field, of sun and water, grass and wildlife. Of all the good gifts given this time of year, ours was the sky and wide-open wanderings. jack Our heartfelt thank you to the Whidbey Camano Land Trust, the Fakkema family, Island County Parks, and all the others who helped make this trail opportunity a reality. For a 9 ½ minute visual bath in beauty and gratitude, enjoy this Ted talk: https://www.ted.com/talks/louie_schwartzberg_nature_beauty_gratitude?language=en Directions: West end: park at West Beach Park on West Beach Road, about a mile south of Joseph Whidbey State Park. Walk south a hundred feet or so then east a hundred yards along an unnamed road to the trailhead. East end: From Highway 20 in Oak Harbor take Swantown Road about 1.4 miles west to Wieldraayer Road. Turn into the church parking lot and find signed spaces at the northwest corner reserved for hikers.
By Bus or Bike: Island Transit does not serve this area directly from Oak Harbor. West Beach Road and Swantown Road are usually not very busy roadways, and have about three-foot shoulders in most places. Mobility: The trail is generally flat and even, graveled through the farm area, mown grass through the meadows. Currently there is standing water in places in the meadow area. Pets: Dogs are allowed on-leash in the meadow area. Dogs are not allowed at all on the farm portion of the trail. Murphy had to turn around at the bridge separating the two. What's Your Favorite Trail? Send a photo and a few lines describing which of our trails you like best and why, and we may include it in our top 10 list on New Year's eve! Deadline is Dec. 26th. Email: [email protected] Wintertime on Whidbey. It’s cold, damp, and I’m chilled to the bone. The noises of the city where I live echo off the buildings and clouds and memories. Cars, jets, sirens, construction, destruction, it fills the air this day. On a sunny Sunday this week, we drove to the east end of Sleeper Road, to Dugualla State Park. We parked among a handful of other cars already there. In the cacophony and noises of our lives, my goal was to hear the still small voices of winter life in the deep woods of Whidbey. It was a frozen dead-still day, frost still on the fallen trunks and leaves, with not a breath of wind. A young couple was heading out ahead of us, entering through the gate after sharing greetings and petting Murphy. We put on lots of layers and our packs and ventured out. Hiking up the first rise, it hit us – there wasn’t a sound to be heard here. No planes, no cars, no neighborhood noises, nothing. We stopped to really listen. High above us in the canopies of trees we could hear the little twinkle of kinglets flittering, as quiet as if they were just our imagination. There was no other sound. Trees stood silent, frozen in place. Shrubs were simply stage props, motionless. We took the north trail. Soon we saw a man walking toward us, his hand to his ear, and heard the distinctive sound of a conversation on a cell phone. It sounded so alien in this world of winter quiet. Where the former roadway becomes a smaller trail, the trees are larger, older, the woods more open, the terrain dropping quickly to the east. We walked along, mostly in silence ourselves too. Fallen leaves muffled our footsteps as we padded along the trail. My puffy scraped lightly with the swing of my arms; her skirt swished almost silently. We were in a forest cathedral, and the silence seemed almost sacred. We whispered if we talked at all. Where is the wildlife in winter? No insects hummed, no birds called out. We stopped to really listen, and heard a Pacific wren singing a solo far away. A song sparrow rustled through the underbrush. Near here we found a fir tree that had twisted, snapped, and fell violently in a recent storm. All was at rest now. At the big tree, we headed down to the beach. A motorboat engine hummed far off in the distance, faint, and then gone. Small waves caressed the shoreline, folding gently onto the shore. No other sounds reached our ears in the silence of the noontime. Soon we climbed back up from the beach. That’s a climb! I could feel my heart beating in my chest, and we breathed heavily. Stopping for refreshments, we again listened to silence – until a raven pierced the air with his plaintive calls and croaks. It echoed in the cathedral of gentle giants around us, then disappeared over the hill. Check out the video. The air was warming slightly as we took the south trail back. A few more birds graced the landscape with their chatter. Chickadees, more kinglets, sparrows and wrens darted and chirped. We passed a couple of other people heading the other way, enjoying their conversation, and a smiling young man lost in thought. Our pace became a steady hike, passing under the arches of bare alders, watching the sun and shadows. We stopped to really listen once again. Without the noise of me walking and the constant chatter in my own head, I could now hear robins chatting, a nuthatch jeering, a woodpecker hammering, and leaves dripping melted frost waters. In these days of busy lives and constant commotion, where can we hear nothing save the still, small voices of the natural world? Where in our neighborhoods, our parks, our places of business and our places of refuge can we still find the whispers of winter wildlife, a single leaf falling, trees breathing, or the silence of the stars? jack What's Your Favorite Trail? Send a photo and a few lines describing which of our trails you like best and why, and we may include it in our top 10 list on New Year's eve! Deadline is Dec. 26th. Email: [email protected] Directions: From Highway 20 north of Oak Harbor, take Sleeper Road east to the very end. There is a small parking area here, with room for maybe 10 cars or so.
By Bus: Dugualla State Park is several miles east of Highway 20. By Bike: Using back roads such as Jones Road and Taylor Road you can bypass the busyness of Highway 20. The terrain is rolling with some steep sections, narrow shoulders, but minimal traffic. Accessibility: Where the trail is a former roadbed, the slopes and condition are fairly gentle. The trails beyond become steeper, and there are occasional roots or rocks. The trail to the beach is steep in places. If one is planning a hike in November, the weather should always be a consideration. Choose wisely whether to go to the more protected east side, or the wild west (wet and windy). Whether to go on a rainy Saturday or a windy Sunday. Whether to try a woodland walk, or stay out from under potentially falling branches or toppling trees. Whether to wear fleece, Gortex, or both. I’ve heard it said, “There’s no such thing as bad weather, just inappropriate clothing.” Tell that to the driver of the semi-truck blown over on Deception Pass Bridge Monday. And then there are flooding rivers and extreme winter tides that spill over roadways and pitch driftwood in all directions. One should definitely make a plan… or two, or three. I went to the Skagit Valley Saturday to go bird watching with a friend on Padilla Bay, but just as we started out, the drizzle turned into a deluge. Abandoning that plan, I headed back to Whidbey warming to the idea of a good book by the fire. Yet, approaching Oak Harbor, and the rain shadow, the sky brightened and I reconsidered my options. I hadn’t been to Joseph Whidbey State Park for a while. As I parked by the water, I noticed the tide was high. Still there was a path just off the beach and more trails on higher ground. Armed with my wool socks and Gortex raincoat I set out to explore. Joseph Whidbey himself set out to explore this area back in 1792 as the Sailing Master on George Vancouver’s crew. He no doubt endured his share of storms on his four year journey sailing from England around the Horn and on to Alaska and Hawaii. He thoroughly explored the Pacific Northwest and circumnavigated the island that now bears his name. Later, as a Naval Engineer, he designed and supervised the construction of the breakwater in Plymouth, England, to protect the Navy fleet. Picture women in flowing gowns and gentlemen in long, dark coats walking the quay dampened by the spray of waves crashing against the sea wall. Though West Beach Road is famous for waves splashing over the road in winter storms, the adjacent beach at the State Park was surprisingly calm on Saturday. The forecast had warned of a storm that would bring high wind and rain. They said to batten down the hatches, so to speak. But as I ventured out, the day was mild. Flotillas of buffleheads and harlequin ducks bobbed between the waves. Gulls glided over the water and spun above the picnic shelter. Families frolicked on the little bit of sandy beach or climbed over driftwood logs. Clusters walked the trails with kids or dogs, both species requiring time outside every day, no matter the weather. Smith and Minor Islands Aquatic Reserve lay just to the west and the San Juan archipelago in shades of blue to the north. The Strait of Juan de Fuca, a wide channel from here to the Pacific, provides direct access for winter storms. I walked the beach first and then climbed the hill into the trees. Yellow leafed willows glowed among the dark spruce and fir. The trail spilled into an open meadow where I stopped to study the kinglets, chickadees, juncos and sparrows among the bare, barbed blackberries and red, round rosehips. Despite the cloud cover and threat of storms I found myself smiling. As I circled back and felt dampness seeping into my shoes, a song seeped into my head. Look for the silver lining whenever a cloud appears in the blue Remember somewhere the sun is shining And so the right thing to do is make it shine for you. A heart full of joy and gladness, Will always banish sadness and strife. So always look for the silver lining And try to find the sunny side of life. By Eric Coates/ J.Kern / B. g Desylva Hear it sung by Chet Baker Maribeth Click here for a park map Directions: From Highway 20 at the traffic light in south Oak Harbor take Swantown Road west to the park entrance. If the gate is open you may park inside with a Discover Pass. Restrooms and picnic tables are near the parking area. If you turn left and park at the bottom of the hill on West Beach Road or turn right and park around the corner on Crosby Road you won’t need a parking pass.
By Bus or Bike: The nearest Island Transit bus stop is at Swantown and Heller Road in Oak Harbor, 3 miles from the park. Each bus can carry 2-3 bikes. You may bike here from Oak Harbor on Swantown or Crosby Road. West Beach Road has a huge hill just south of the park. Some cyclists like going up the hill as a workout. Others prefer to ride it downhill. Please wear a helmet, bright clothes and lights. Mobility: There are wide, smooth trails at the upper and lower entrances to the park. Driftwood may block access for wheelchair users at the beach parking area, Trails can be soggy or muddy in places. |
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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
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