T’was a grey autumn day. The clouds hung low and heavy over the islands. Rain threatened but only a light mist fell like a veil over the forested shore. A cool breeze caught at my collar as I passed through the gate. The road was littered with twigs and dry leaves that cackled underfoot like the laugh of some old crone. The weathered rail fence stood solid and silent as a skeleton with trailing vines crawling over, under and through it, reaching toward the path. An old couple came and went, murmuring quietly as they passed. Hunched over, they kept moving with only a quick sideways glance in my direction. Then I was alone. No birds sang. No squirrels scolded. I crested a hill, golden with the leaves of autumn, framed by tall, dark firs. The sound of water drew me to a bench just off the road, turned toward the forest, with a view of swooping cedar branches like the arms of a sorcerer’s cloak. I sat to listen and imagined seeing a waterfall, as the sound was clear enough, but the cascade was invisible to the eye. There was a steep drop there, down through the branches still clinging to their whithered yellow leaves. I imagined the beach fifty feet below with wet rocks and sand where small fish swam feeding salmon, feeding heron, feeding otter in the shelter of the overhanging cliff. Then an eagle called so close it made me jump. Its surreal cry, like a squeaky door opening on rusty hinges, but again, it remained unseen. I walked on. At an opening between the trees, I found a small window framed by branches with a view out over the passage. An island in the distance seemed to rise out of the mist and hover, slate grey, above the water. No light shone there. No boats, no houses, only a dark forest rose above the silver shore. At the end of the road, a gate, with a sign that read, “We are watching you”. I looked around. There was no sign of anyone nearby, or the couple that had gone before. I turned back wondering. The grey had deepened and twilight approached. I noticed the trees around me, maple, cedar, alder and fir, were trapped in a web of vines, like a giant spider’s web, or the long fingers of some phantom reaching and holding its prey. Some trees, wounded by the fall of others, had distorted features, like open mouths, as if they would cry out if they could. The road led down where logs were inhabited by a cluster of fungus, looking like a village for the wee people that must dwell in this damp ravine. A full moon climbed the evergreens limb by limb. I turned and climbed the hill back toward the gate. Hearing voices behind me, I quickened my pace. The vines reached out toward me as the voices grew louder. Just as I reached my car, the couple emerged from the forest. Where they had disappeared to, I did not want to know. I was only glad to be going home before dark, to a warm fire and a mug of cider, and leave this wild wood behind. Happy Halloween! Maribeth Directions: From Highway 525 on South Whidbey, next to Ken's Korner Shopping Plaza, turn north and drive down Surface Road for a mile. At the T turn left and go around the corner to the entrance to the Waterman Shoreline Preserve. From the Clinton Ferry, drive up the hill about a half mile. At the Dairy Queen turn north on Bob Galbreath Road. Continue for 2.2 miles .
By Bus and Bike: Island Transit Route 1 bus will take you to the Dairy Queen or Ken's Korner near Clinton. From there it's a short bike ride or a good walk to the Preserve. See the bus schedule here. Two bikes fit on a bus bike rack. The road to the Preserve is quiet but there is not much shoulder. Wear something bright and use lights when riding a bike or walking along the road, especially this time of year. Leaves on the Preserve trail can make it slippery for cyclists. Mobility: The Waterman Preserve trail is on an old, paved road, though it is covered with leaves in the fall and can be slippery when wet. There are some steep hills, but the road is less than a mile long. There are gates at either end to prevent vehicles from entering but should allow for wheelchairs to pass.
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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
May 2024
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