“A winter’s day, in a deep and dark December.” Paul Simon, I am a Rock The day dawned with darkness, a heavy fog over the landscape. This whole year, too, has been a foggy darkness as we faced a virus, biases within us of systemic racism, a world on fire and filled with smoke, leadership focused on self rather than the whole, and health and economic challenges for millions, all of which will be remembered even as we strive to put this all behind us and forget. We stayed separate to stay alive, masking up to be with others but avoiding being close. And we discovered that close to home are trails and beaches that offer us respite and refreshment from the staleness of indoor life, and a chance to safely interact with those close to us and keep the spark of hope alive. “Slow down, you move too fast…” Paul Simon, Feelin’ Groovy I walked onto Similk Beach as the cold morning fog began to fade. I intended to hike quickly down to the south end and move on with my day. The tide was rising, but much of the beach was still exposed. As I strode along the strand, seagulls and crows called out incessantly, clamoring for my attention. A heron stood in the shallows, further arresting my thoughts, slowing my pace as I watched its graceful patience. The sun played peek-a-boo with the fog above Kiket, and I came to a full stop to watch it all play out. Seeing this living shoreline, hearing the cacophony of birds, smelling low tide, beneath the surreal dance of fog and sun, it hit me then, as I became a part of the scene, that the wonderment of this morning was far too engaging to hurry through it all. I relaxed, I watched, and I sought to linger here and learn instead. “You’ve got to make the morning last…” I found a heart cockle shell, my favorite clam for last name reasons, and a bent-nose clam, another favorite because of my nose, and mud clams, macomas, little necks, butter clams, and other shells, oh my. Lugworms filled the gravelly beach with scat volcanoes. “Just kicking down the cobblestones…” Several small but tall snails had attached themselves to a cobblestone conclave for a diverse neighborhood of life. I perused shoreline boulders to observe communities gripping their sides. I found barnacles, chitons, and limpets under a fucus forest. Mussels made massive condos, herded together for mutual strength. Sitka snails did social distancing like ants on a log. Oyster shells high on the beach indicated successful clusters living lower down. Trees overhanging the intertidal zone create a healthy environment for forage fish to lay eggs, and baby salmon to feast on detritus from the trees. Tree limbs filled the mudflats here down to the rising tide line. Broken eelgrass strands hung in the lower limbs where high tide had deposited them. This was an active slide zone; it appeared that these trees had toppled in recent storms. Still living trees leaned out almost horizontally over the shoreline, clinging tenaciously with their roots. “Looking for fun, and feelin’ groovy!” Then the sun broke through with full power and joy. I rejoiced to be alive this day, and danced beneath the sky, with one hand waving free, silhouetted by the sea, but that’s a different songwriter. As I headed back, a dog and his man were walking along the beach, a walk to stretch legs and not necessarily linger with intertidal life, or watch someone dancing at the shoreline. When Chekhov saw the long winter, he saw a winter bleak and dark and bereft of hope. Yet we know that winter is just another step in the cycle of life. Seeds grow in the darkness, then blossom in the future light. Solstice is here! And a new year is on the horizon. Life, I love you, all is groovy! jack This hike is in the new 2021 Edition of Hiking Close to Home, available under the Books tab of this website. Happy Holidays! Directions: A half-mile east of Sharpe's Corner Roundabout on Highway 20, take Christianson Road south about one mile to where it meets Satterlee Road. The Similk Beach parking area and trailhead is about 100 yards to your right on Satterlee Road.
Accessibility is moderate to the top of the berm at the beach; the beach itself is mud and cobblestone, with uneven and slippery rocks and logs throughout. Pay close attention to the instructions on the sign at the trailhead. The beach is owned by the Swinomish Indian Tribal Community, and access to the lower tide zone of the beach is prohibited, as it is a commercial shellfish bed. Stay as close as you can to the driftwood at the top of the beach. The beach stretches only a hundred yards east of the entrance rules sign. You can walk this way near the driftwood and return on a grassy lawn trail. At the west end of the uplands, a modern midden of oyster shells grows from recent tribal harvests, ready to be returned to the beach with new spats of baby oysters. The accessible tribal property extends about a half-mile to the west and south at the base of the bluff. Take your time here. Absorb all you can.
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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
April 2024
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