It was Midsummer, and one of the hottest days of the year so far. Some people went swimming in local lakes, some boating on a lake or the sea. Some played in pools or splash parks. Me? I climbed a mountain that was drenched in burning sunlight and heat, drenching me in sweat. It seemed like a good plan in my head: ride our bikes down to the Guemes ferry, enjoy the wind-blown waters riding the ferry across the channel, leisurely bike the island backroads to the base, then hike the short trail through the firs and ferns to the top of Guemes Mountain. Somewhat new to the area, Kath had not yet been to the top. I was looking forward to being her guide and showing her the view. She questioned my timing: mid-afternoon? The hottest day of the year? Not to worry, I said, it’s in the shade. Well, mostly… And it started out so well. The wind in our faces as we rode through town and coasted down the hill to the ferry; the ferry ride across the channel with marine breezes keeping us cool; and lazily pedaling the gently rolling South Shore Road past farms and fields and forests. We locked our bikes at the trailhead, and that’s when the furnace blast of summer heat hit us full force. It was hot here! Wearing sunscreen and hats, we started up the mile-long trail. It’s just over a mile. Uphill. In full afternoon sun. Like through an oven. The sun was packing heat and aiming at us. Maple leaves and dark firs kept the direct sun off us, for a while. The forest was silent. Nothing stirred, not wind or leaf or bird. We took our time, resting often, drinking often. The small overlook halfway up gave us a chance to see the ever-growing view. We continued on. The trail continued too, uphill, always uphill, and soon the forest became only shrubs; the sun baked our sweaty skin, frying us like peanuts. At the summit, we saw Mt. Baker looking like an ice-cream cone, snow-covered and inviting but far away. The waters of the Salish Sea spread blue and cold to the north and west. Hardly a breath of wind stirred the tall grasses around us. We sat on a shaded bench facing north, drinking more water, eating an energy bar, admiring the view, and amazed at the quiet. And the heat. We looped around to the west where others photographed the views. Kath took it in then looked for shade. I paused to see our world below, the waters bustling with boats, people staying cool indoors or out, if they could. Here, nothing stirred, save a dozen flies circling us like electrons. The golden grass stood baked into place. Our native plants are adapted to summertime heat and drought, up to a point. Grasses go to seed and wait for fall rains. The wildlife knows to find shade and rest this time of day. But evergreen saplings are struggling. Cedars and hemlocks are stressed. Wild cherry leaves changed to golden brown, almost as we watched. Some like it hot, some don’t. Several sweaty hikers were coming up the trail as we turned to go down. Going down is always easier, of course. The trail rose to meet our feet. We could feel the cooling shade as we descended, and then back on our bikes we felt the breeze on our foreheads as we pedaled back to the ferry. The air felt cooler near the cold waters of the sea. We chatted with old and new friends on the ferry, sharing our different Guemes adventures. And then biking back to Skyline, the temperature dropped even lower, quite comfortable now. The blazing heat of the day had become pleasant memories of a quintessential northwest adventure.
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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
March 2024
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