Do you remember being in grade school in late September -- I know, that was a LONG time ago for most of us, but then again you might remember it as if it were the day before yesterday -- and having the bell ring shortly after 3, and that feeling of walking home with a couple hours of afternoon freedom to enjoy as the sun slants through the trees, the air warm and fragrant with just a hint of autumn. My friends and I would play under deep blue skies, riding bikes, or throwing a ball, or playing tag, or climbing trees with a canopy of leaves above us turning golden yellow, with some of the leaves having already fallen to the ground. Sometimes we would just lie in the tall dry grass, looking up at that sky, smelling the richness of the earth, dreaming of the days and years ahead. Conversation was light and full of laughter; our only work was making up games to play or finding places to explore while we had the time. This week, summer was lingering, holding its own against the fall season trying to take its place. Blue skies beckoned, warmth welcomed, and after a busy day completing chores, we now had time to find a trail and explore while we could. It was three in the afternoon. We had a couple hours before a five o’clock appointment. Let’s hike to Sharpe Park, we agreed. Now we had somewhere to go and no hurry to get there. The air was still, quiet, in no hurry to go anywhere either. The trail, as you know, starts out among trees large and small, young and old. It skirts the shore of Fox Pond, a menagerie of wildlife at times, but today just a field of green cattails and wetland plants, mostly mud where there used to be water. We took the direct route to Sares Head, on the trail with that name. You know the route; wandering through woodlands, dropping a little then climbing quickly as the waters of two straits silhouette a picket fence of firs. Then you get to the top, step through the gateway of the last trees, and … and the land just drops away, along with your breath, as you gaze at a dome of blue, blue sky above, blue water below, blue-green islands beyond, and nothing but silence, and peace, and astonishment. Sunshine sparkled on the flat calm waters, golden diamonds dancing along. A couple cabin cruisers motored quietly across, scattering the diamonds briefly as they passed. A young couple picnicked on the very edge of an overlook. Two ravens rose on the updraft, in no hurry, seemingly just enjoying the view too. Whidbey, the Olympics, the San Juans, all lay miles away and yet seemingly right at our fingertips. It never gets old. And like children of old, we scrambled over rocks, climbed trees, and just lay in the tall dry grass remembering the days and years behind us, and dreaming of the days and years ahead. But we had an appointment to keep. The tyranny of time brought our visit to an end. We headed back down, past trees living here for centuries, their offspring becoming the younger forest all around them. Back we walked, enjoying the ferns, spider webs, condos of woodpecker trees, the silent forest. This summer day was still warm though the sun was now lower, the light more subdued. It was time to go. The meaning of life is that it ends. Of course, we know that the day, the season, time itself, ends for each of us, as the flowers fade, the leaves turn brown, the sun lowers in the sky. But while we are alive, we live, and we revel in the joy and beauty of life while we can. That’s so easy to do at Sharpe Park. jack Directions: From Whidbey go north on the Deception Pass Bridge, turn left on Rosario Road, and follow it to the parking area for Sharpe Park, on your left in just over a mile and a half. From Anacortes go south from 12th Street on D Avenue, and follow its winding way 5.5 miles to the park on your right.
By Bus: there is no bus service along this road. By Bike: Rosario Road is hilly and windy with narrow shoulders but not heavy traffic. Mobility: The trail is wide, graveled and mostly level for the first quarter mile, then becomes hilly, narrow, and rougher. The last quarter mile is a little bit steep.
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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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