Book Club

The Messy Business of Reclamation

This month we hiked along a river reclaimed. Just a few decades ago, the Middle Fork Snoqualmie River was a dumping ground for all things expensive to dispose of: old campers, cars, trucks, construction materials, appliances, tires, etc. That changed when a community-wide effort launched to clean up the area and restore it to its natural state in the late 1990’s. A coalition of volunteers spent years cleaning up the valley and looking out into the crystal clear water today, you would have no idea of its storied past.

It’s hard to argue that these extraordinary efforts were not worthwhile. But, as we learned in our March book selection, Reclaimers, reclamation is not always so black and white as good or bad, beneficial or detrimental. Even the definition of the word is not entirely clear and seemingly contradictory.

Reclaim:

1. to recall from wrong or improper conduct

2. to rescue from an undesirable state; also: to restore to a previous natural state <reclaim mining sites> b: to make available for human use by changing natural conditions <reclaim swampland>

How can reclamation mean both restoring to a natural state and to make available for human use at the same time? And what does improper conduct and undesirable state really mean? Ana Maria Spagna went looking for these answers by traveling back and forth, up and down the west coast from Seattle to northern California in her aging Buick. She met some incredible people (mostly women) who were fighting long, hard battles to reclaim just a little bit of land that nourished their people for thousands of years. These were the Timbisha Shoshone whose ancestral land was in the middle of Death Valley National Park, and the Mountain Maidu who reclaimed the sacred Humbug Valley near Mt Shasta from a large energy company.

Where is the moral high ground? And who decides? Judgments cycle. Fire is bad, fire is good. Predators are bad, predators are good. And with the judgments, so go our actions: Put out fires, start prescribed fires. Eliminate predators, reintroduce predators. Like Sisyphus on a hamster wheel.

Much of the book is also focused on rivers and dams. Recently, there has been much effort taken to remove dams that are not useful or are harmful to fish, such as on the White Salmon river and the Elwha River. But is it always best to remove the dams? My gut reaction is to say yes, but as I learned from this book, the best solution is far from clear. Ana describes this dilemma as hammering a nail into a tree and then pulling it out. The hole is still there. With dam removal comes careful monitoring to get the right amount of sediment and the proper reintroduction of fish. There is so much focus and energy spent on how to perfect the conditions to return to some original state. Is it possible to think we could just make the dams better for fish?

…the lesson I kept relearning about reclaiming is that it’s not about what we’ve lost, how to retrieve or re-create it, but how best to move forward.

It’s not about what we’ve lost, but how best to move forward. This quote is what will stick with me most from the book. We must get away from the ideals of “returning” land to untouched, pristine wilderness. These romantic notions are naive and it devalues the contributions and knowledge of the Native American people. Rather, we should learn from them and take note of their traditional land management practices that sustained people for thousands of years without depleting or destroying natural resources. And then, with much debate and thought, maybe we can work together to find better solutions.

I would love to hear your thoughts about the book and the idea of reclamation. Have you, like me, struggled to find a balanced opinion regarding these issues? Do you agree with Ana’s conclusions in the book?

 

Reclaimers by Ana Maria Spagna

 

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Road Trip

Eastern Oregon: Part 3

Day 5: Kimberly to Maupin

From Kimberly, we headed south following the John Day River. It was early in the morning and cold and cloudy. Light precipitation saturated the rainbow-colored hills: red, yellow, blue. As if in an effort to stifle the color, snow dusted the tops of the hills. We pulled into the small, deserted Blue Basin parking area in the John Day Fossil Beds National Monument and got out to take a look around. My husband carried Evie and I skipped ahead to snap photos. I crossed a little bridge and my jaw dropped. I couldn’t believe my eyes. A tiny ribbon of water meandered below. The water was the most brilliant milky turquoise blue.

I was blown away years ago when I visited the nearby Painted Hills and I was most excited to see more of the John Day Fossil Bed area on this trip. I didn’t think it could get much better than those striped hills, but Blue Basin after the rain exceeded all of my expectations.  As we walked farther, you could see where the earth had eroded down into the namesake’s blue bowl. The jagged edges seemed to calve with the messiness and brilliant blue of glaciers. It was so quiet, no sign of life in any direction. We just stood and stared and wondered how we got to this alternate universe.

As we drove a little farther, we found a sign of civilization. The enormous white house and barn spread out on lush green grass seemed out of place against the arid backdrop of sagebrush and pine. We found that we had stumbled upon the Cant Ranch, established in the early 1900’s by James and Elizabeth Cant. They had come from Scotland and acquired the land through the Homestead Act. They raised cattle and sheep to supply the nearby mining villages and grew crops to sustain them and the animals thanks to the John Day River that ran wide and lazy through the property. After the Cants died in the 1970’s, the building became the National Park Headquarters and an interpretive center. It was closed while we were there, but a sign invited us to walk along a short trail to see the grounds and the towering Sheep Rock across the river.

We lingered for a bit and then headed across the road to the Paleontology Center. The center was full of fossils found in the area and renditions of the kind of life that lived in this bizarre locale millions of years ago. My favorites were perfectly preserved ferns and leaves. It was comforting to recognize them, to know they have flourished so long in this world. In the lobby, we watched video monitors of scientists studying fossils in real time. I picked up a National Parks passport for Evie and a bright futuristic postcard beckoning visitors back in August 2017 to watch the total solar eclipse. I thought what an ideally strange place to watch an equally strange phenomena.

Next, we headed to the old mining town of Mitchell to see if we could find something to eat. We found a promising cafe on the way to town but as we pulled into the parking lot, we noticed something seemed a little off. A woman with gray hair and an apron fussed with the cash register as I asked her if they were open. She said, sure, honey, we’re open. We just don’t have any electricity at the moment. I asked her how long they’ve been without power and she said all morning. I broke the news to my husband and we continued driving through town to see if there were any other options. In less than two minutes, we were through town and it appeared that the entire place was without power. People were standing outside just looking around like the sky may have answers. This place is weird, I told my husband. He gave me an mmm hmmm in agreement. We snacked on what we had in the car and moved on.

Our next stop was my beloved Painted Hills. I couldn’t wait to show my husband and Evie this place and enjoy it without the stifling heat that accompanied Nali and I on our first visit. We drove the long dirt road through ranch land as I kept repeating, just wait, it gets better! over and over. We parked among the dusty vans with plates from all over the country and I smiled with glee. I love it here so much! became my new mantra. My even-keeled husband seemed to enjoy it despite the impossibility of the place living up to all my accolades. He was used to my drama by now. Evie’s sharp little eyes surveyed with laser focus, but she too seemed to be becoming immune to my enthusiasm as she didn’t mutter a peep. It was ok, I was in my happy place.

We headed to the Painted Cove trail with its mounds of sculpted red clay. Here, the water ran orange as it braided itself to lower ground. The cloud ceiling was beginning to break and the deep blue sky emerged along with some sunshine. I lingered, I absorbed, I soaked it all up, not wanting the short trail, the trip, the sunshine to end.

We drove on. We took a back road through a gorgeous canyon that we couldn’t believe wasn’t a famous National Park or something. Tiny homesteads crumbled next to modern cabins and houses and we wondered if the originals had been there since the Homestead Act and the land passed down through generations. Occasionally a ghost town would appear out of nowhere and I’d check the map. Antelope, Shaniko, Bakeoven. We stopped to get some beef jerky and popcorn and I picked a homemade magnet that says, I’ve been to Fossil, Oregon with a picture of a triceratops.

We drove all the way to Maupin, a small town (which seemed like a sprawling city to us at this point) at the bottom of a steep canyon and snuggled into a bend of the Deschutes River. We found a city park jam packed with RV’s but it had a strip of grass they let us tent campers have for the night. We found a decent restaurant that catered to the tourists coming to raft the river and had a table outside that we could sit at with Nali and a messy baby. As the day turned to evening, we watched a rafting crew get ready for a trip down the river.

Day 6: Maupin to Seattle

We had been on the road for 5 days and it seemed like a lifetime, and I mean that in the best way. We had developed a routine and it seemed Evie was loving, or at least tolerating, all the travel. But alas, it was time to return to Seattle. It was a beautiful bluebird day, the warmth and sun finally arrived just as we were leaving. We decided to take advantage of it and drove up to Mount Hood. We showed Evie the Timberline Lodge and I scribbled one last postcard and dropped it in the mailbox in the lobby. I gave Evie a kiss and told her we would return when she was older.

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Road Trip

Eastern Oregon: Part 2

Day 3: Joseph to Hells Canyon

Our next destination was Hells Canyon along the Snake River on the Oregon – Idaho border. We were hoping to drive through the Wallowa Mountains to get there, but the rangers in Joseph told us that the snow was lingering longer than usual on the high altitude roads, so we would have to drive around. So we headed back the way we came and then went south to La Grande and took the back roads to Halfway. This tiny western town was named so because it is located halfway between Cornucopia and Pine, in other words, halfway between nowhere and nowhere. We found some information about Cornucopia, a ghost town in the foothills of the Wallowas, and decided to go check it out.

The road to Cornucopia was unpaved, but in good shape. The name of the town eludes to the amount of gold found there. It was said that the area held the largest gold ore body in the Pacific Northwest, even possibly the United States. There was a bit more going on there than we expected. There were several small cabins and some old run-down larger structures, but the cabins seemed like they still got some use. We drove as far as we could until the road was covered in a winter’s worth of snow. The heavy mining activity was evidenced by heaping mounds of tailings along the shoulders of the creek. This was something we would see much more of on our trip in the coming days.

From there, we backtracked to Halfway and then headed northeast along the Snake River to Idaho. The highway hugged beautiful canyons as we approached the river. And then, in a tiny town called Oxbow, we unceremoniously crossed the Snake into Idaho. We knew this area to be one of the most remote places in the US. Only three roads even got close to the canyon and no other roads crossed the river. We saw only a handful of people on the 22 mile road to Hells Canyon Dam. We found a campground that appeared to just be some dirt tracks with a few flat areas for camping. They did have some nice toilets which I fully appreciated. There wasn’t any accessible water, though, so Evie and I set up camp while my husband drove back to get some water.

While he was gone I heard a truck come from another direction and stop below us. They turned up their music, it was Pink Floyd. I have to say it was a bit of a trip to be there with just Evie while hearing, hello, hello, hello? Is there anybody in there? With no other evidence of life around us whatsoever. It was like we were in a movie with a soundtrack. My husband returned and we made some dinner and read pamphlets about the Snake River dams to Evie before bedtime.  While she slept, we took our sleeping bags out and watched the sun set. The stars started to appear and I waited to see a spectacular show, but a haze moved in. I settled for a handful of shooting stars.

Day 4: Hells Canyon to Kimberly

The next morning we woke up to what sounded like turkeys. It was sprinkling rain. We had some oatmeal breakfast and then headed farther into the canyon toward the dam. We saw some turkeys on the road just after we left the campground which solved that mystery. The canyon was much more green than I expected, probably only because it was May. The walls of the canyon were tinted sage green, the color of lichen. They plunged into the depths of the river and we couldn’t fathom how you could get down into the canyon from the top. It seems impossible.

We reached the Hells Canyon Dam and drove across it, stopping to look over the edge as the water rushed to freedom. From here, the river regained some of its wildness and remoteness. We were now back in Oregon as we drove to the end of the road which terminates at a visitor center. It was closed and seemingly abandoned as there were no other cars or people. We walked down a little bit into the canyon, beads of mist gathered on our hair.

The chilly rain persuaded us to move along and hit the road again. We enjoyed one last drive back down through the canyon before we headed toward Baker City. Once there we stopped for a break and had lunch at the Lone Pine Café, where I had another incredible meal that has to be one of my favorites of all time. While we devoured our food we scoured the map to determine our route for the day. We planned a short side trip to the old mining town of Sumpter complete with saloon and abandoned dredge.

As we headed into the mountains from Sumpter, we encountered a snow storm again. We drove up over a pass through a forest of trees and then all of the sudden the road just flattened into straight nothingness. No trees or hills, just a few chilly cows. We were on some kind of plateau in the middle of nowhere. Eventually we reached the tiny town of Long Creek where we stopped for some gas and food. We walked into the one store in town and got some looks. I have a feeling this town does not have a booming tourist business.

Eventually things started looking normal again and the snow let up only to be replaced with pouring rain. The wind was howling too as we winded along the John Day river.  We found a tiny campground on BLM land outside of Kimberly and set up camp in the rain and wind. My husband set up the tent and then Evie and I took shelter and set up the inside. Our new tent was standing up well to the wind so far. Once we got everything set up and ate a cold supper, the rain stopped and the sky cleared to reveal the top of the mountain directly across the river from us.

 

 

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Road Trip

Eastern Oregon: Part 1

Day 1: Seattle to Not Quite Oregon

After driving all over Yakima looking for gas and a decent restaurant, we were finally sitting and eating at a crowded Bob’s Burgers. It was about two in the afternoon and we were not very far from Seattle. We were hoping to make it to Pendleton and find a campground, but as we looked at the map we decided we wouldn’t make it there for the night. Instead we frantically searched the web for campgrounds nearby, calling and getting news that they were full.

When my husband had the idea to go for a family road trip to eastern Oregon I thought it sounded great, but I didn’t want to do any planning. Evie was only 5 months old and neither of us really had the energy. So we decided to wing it. We came up with a general route and decided we would find campsites as we needed them. I’m not really a wing-it kind of gal and I have to admit I was a little worried sitting there at Bob’s.

We found a possible lead on a campsite farther south so we drove on. Stormy weather taunted us directly ahead. Close to the Washington – Oregon border we saw a sign along the road for a campground and decided to check it out. It was situated along the north bank of the Columbia River. It was really an RV park, but the nice lady at the booth offered us a spot on the open grass. We happily took it and were the only ones there with a tent.

We set up our brand new (!) luxurious four-person tent and spread out everything inside. It easily fit our two sleeping bags, a blanket for Nali to sleep on, Evie’s carseat, multiple bags of stuff, and even a little diaper changing station. Evie sat happily in her bumbo watching as we set up camp. As the sun began to set, it was clear that the storms had missed us and it was all blue skies. The springtime light filtered through the trees and lit up the white puffs of dandelions. Things were looking up.

Day 2: Not Quite Oregon to Joseph

Just a few minutes after leaving the campsite we were across the bridge and officially in Oregon. Pendleton was our next stop and the Woolen Mill was first on our list. We browsed the colorful flannels and blankets in what seemed like a museum of cabin coziness. We bought WAY too many blankets, but like I always say, there’s no such thing as too many blankets. Next, we headed downtown to the historic Hamley’s & Co, makers of world-famous saddles since 1883. From the outside, it looked like a tourist trap, but as soon as we walked in, it was obvious that this place is legit. The brick interior two-story store was packed with every kind of fine leather good and adorned with massive bronze statues of bucking broncos. To top it off, they had an entire room full of saddles and gear. It was quite impressive.

For lunch, we stumbled upon the Main Street Diner, complete with checkered floor and fantastic food. I had a club sandwich (my diner go-to) and a strawberry shake and I think they were both the best I’ve ever had. I took half of my sandwich to go and this made a wonderful road snack later. On the way out of town we stopped by the post office to mail home a postcard I picked up in Hamley’s. I wanted to send Evie a postcard from the road each day recounting the highlights.

Our next destination was Joseph, a small town nestled in the Wallowa Mountains. Instead of taking the most direct route, we headed northeast through the Blue Mountains. The name is a bit misleading because these mountains are full of green- ponderosa, juniper and larch dominated the landscape. As we climbed higher and higher into the Blues, we watched the temperature drop. We saw some rain clouds hovering over the peaks as we approached the mountains from Pendleton, and now we were in them. But it wasn’t raining, it was snowing, hard.

Giant snowflakes filled the sky and covered the ground. It was mid-May, in eastern Oregon. It was supposed to be warm, not snowing! We embraced the unexpected weather and stopped and got out of the car. I immediately stuck my tongue out to catch snowflakes and yelled at Evie to look! look! I don’t think she fully appreciated the impromptu blizzard. We continued on. Once through the Blues, the landscape flattened to rolling green hills. Soon enough the Wallowas were in view and we arrived in Joseph.

Joseph and Lake Wallowa was originally home to Chief Joseph and the Nez Perce tribe. The land was promised to them in an 1855 treaty until gold was discovered. The miners and Native Americans clashed until there were negotiations for a new treaty to shrink the boundaries of the reservation. The Nez Perce refused to sign and this eventually turned into war. In the end, Chief Joseph moved his people away from the area instead of living in the confines of the reservation. After his surrender, the government took the land and allowed it to be settled. Chief Joseph and the Nez Perce were banished from their homeland. The town was later named after Chief Joseph and we visited a memorial in his honor on the north side of the lake. This serves as a reminder of the injustices many Native Americans faced.

We had intended to camp, but it was much colder than we anticipated and it was forecasted to get down into the 20’s at night. We opted instead to rent a room at the south end of Wallowa Lake. We settled in and then bundled Evie up and walked to Wallowa Lake State Park. As we walked, deer appeared around us, seemingly following us. We walked out onto the shoreline and watched the sun set until we could no longer stand the cold. Later, I woke up in the middle of the night and walked outside to get some air. I swear I could see every single star in the sky.

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Outdoor Life

Orcas Island Camping

Around the time Evie turned 5 months old, I was getting antsy. The weather was cool and drizzly and we hadn’t been getting out as much I’d like. My husband was out of town and there were just a few days when the weather would be nice. I thought it would be fun to take Evie on the ferry and camp on Orcas Island. And then I thought about how much effort that would require and it made me very tired. I took a nap instead.

The next morning I woke up feeling energized. I thought maybe I could pack everything and make it to Anacortes in time for the afternoon ferry. I went into turbo mode and ran around the house packing stuff like a madwoman. I put everything outside next to the car and then puzzled it all into the back of my little VW Golf. It was so much more than I’ve ever needed on a camping trip, but it all fit perfectly with no room to spare. Nali got the backseat next to Evie and we were off.

Leaving on a Sunday afternoon, we basically had the ferry to ourselves. I played it cool among the locals heading back to the island from Seattle. Evie watched out the big window to see islands floating by. We went outside to feel the rush of the wind from the upper deck. First ferry ride: check.

Once we got to Orcas I found a lovely and lonely campsite on Cascade Lake. I set up camp and put Evie in the bumbo which she loves. I sang head, shoulders, knees and toes to get her to smile as I reheated some leftovers for dinner. I have to say I was pretty proud of myself for thinking of bringing leftovers to eat while camping. Gotta celebrate the small victories.


Later, as the sun was beginning to go down, I packed up baby and dog and headed up the long windy road to the top of Mount Constitution. There was just one couple that pulled in ahead of me and a single deer. I exchanged pleasantries with the couple and the deer, and we watched the sun setting on the nearby islands.


It was a long night full of feeding Evie, making sure Evie was still alive, and wondering if Evie was warm enough. It was so calm outside with not even the faintest rustle of a breeze. So I was surprised when I heard a long vrooooom sound like a stealth airplane and then a minute later I heard a splash and a little screeching cry. Then dead silence. Literally. I sat straight up, eyes wide, and didn’t move for a long time. I was listening for a clue to what just happened and I thought to myself, dude, something just got murdered.


I racked my brain to think of what predators might live on the island. It had to be an owl right? Yeah, owl sounds right. But could it have been a bear? Definitely not a bear. A cougar? Maybe… No, cougars don’t live on the island. Do they? Was it a raccoon or a possum? I don’t think they are predators. It was definitely an owl. It had to be. Or could it have been a cougar? This cycle continued on until dawn.


Needless to say, Evie, Nali and I slept in that morning. When we (I) mustered up the energy, we headed to Turtleback Mountain for a hike. The trail starts on an old logging road through the forest. It felt good to be out, Evie in the carrier and Nali at my feet. Evie didn’t make a sound, she just looked up at the tall cedars and Douglas firs. It made me think of when I moved to Seattle and couldn’t believe that there were so many tall trees along the highway. I had never seen trees so tall in my life. This will be Evie’s normal.


The trail left the road and continued through a hardwood forest carpeted in green. It felt like we were in a fairy tale. We lingered at the summit watching hawks glide back and forth in front of us. It felt like we had the whole island to ourselves. After the hike I drove into town and we visited the Brown Bear Bakery for lunch and then browsed the books at the charming Darvill’s bookstore. I picked out a picture book about a girl and a whale for Evie to read when she gets older.

 


I wanted to take Evie to a beach so I drove out to Obstruction Pass. The tide was high and there was a small amount of rocky beach to explore. The sun was just beginning to get lower in the sky. The blue water sparkled and the madrona trees glowed orange in the sunlight. It was a beautiful day. When we got back to the campsite we watched the sunset on the lake while Evie sat in her bumbo smiling away while I sang. I slept good that night.

Hikes Featured in this Post:
Turtleback Mountain
Obstruction Pass

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Outdoor Life

Dog Mountain

One of my favorite trails to visit in the spring is Dog Mountain in the Columbia River Gorge. Situated on the north side of the river, its flanks are fully exposed to the south and all the sunshine. In the spring, the hillsides explode with the most brilliant yellows of arrowleaf balsomroot.

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This was the first summit I hiked on my own many years ago. The trail climbs, steeply at times, 2800 feet above the river below. But I hardly noticed the elevation as I was so distracted by the flowers. I knew that the trail was famous for its balsomroot blooms, but I didn’t know that it was also home to seemingly hundreds of other flower species. I was just starting to learn my PNW flowers so I stopped to take photos of all of them to identify later. Most were new to me at the time.

 

Near the summit is an old lookout site. The lookout was built in the 1930’s to watch for fires across the river. As airplanes took to the skies in search of fires, lookouts all over the west became obsolete, including this one, which was removed in 1967.

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It is said that the mountain got its name from a writer who described the steep and rough mountain as “that dogged mountain” or “that doggone mountain” and recommended sturdy boots for the ascent. There is also a legend that says some men got stranded on the mountain and had to resort to eating their dogs. I’m hoping this theory is not true.

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No matter the hardships endured to get to the top of this mountain, its hard not to have a smile on your face and hum “The Sound of Music” along with the infinite number of bees feasting away.

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But, with all the springtime beauty comes crowds. This trail, with its close proximity to Portland and Vancouver, is one of the most heavily trafficked in the Gorge. Parking is nearly impossible, so be sure to arrive very early or go on a weekday.

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Be prepared to share the trail with others and make the best of it. Some of my favorite hikes are crowded ones where I get to see the happy faces of other hikers enjoying the same beautiful space.

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Hikes Featured in this Post:
Dog Mountain

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Book Club

For the Time Being

“Live. For Now. For the time being.”

Time. It seems to be both elusive and abundant these days. Hours pass by like minutes as I play with Evie. We babble back and forth and I endlessly dance and sing and make silly faces just to make her laugh. When she cries, time slows and it feels like hours before she calms. The nights go on for days as I wake every few hours to feed her. When she falls asleep on me I cling to every nanosecond.

When Laura chose A Tale for the Time Being for April’s book club pick, I was excited to revisit one of my all-time favorite books. The timing was perfect. I was ready to jump back into the club and get out for a hike with my book club friends. We headed to Goose Rock at Deception Pass. It was a rare sunny day in this epic winter / spring of rain. Our spirits were high as we climbed and crossed under the famous bridge.

We continued through the forest sprinkled with the rusty brown of Madrone trees and took a detour out onto the open meadows to see what flowers we would find. There weren’t as many as there would normally be this time of year, but we did find some red paintbrush, spring gold, a few camas, and a checker lily. My favorite part of the meadows, though, is the glow of the sage-colored reindeer lichen.

The trail dips a bit and then climbs to our destination, Goose Rock. We had the rock all to ourselves and we made ourselves at home as we spread out and chatted about the book. Laura thoughtfully brought a thermos of genmaicha, a lovely Japanese rice tea to go along with the theme of the book, and some delicious chocolate chip cookies. I was in heaven as I enjoyed these treats. Evie was content and enjoying her dose of Vitamin D and we lingered for a while. We discussed our theories about the book and read some of our favorite quotes. We all enjoyed the character Jiko, the main character’s zen Buddhist grandmother who talked of “supapowas!” and offers prayers of gratitude to the toilet: “As I go for a dump / I pray with all beings / That we can remove all filth and destroy / The poisons of greed, anger and foolishness.”

The “supapowa!” Jiko was trying to instill in her granddaughter was the ability to be in the now, to wake up to her life in the present moment and to stop living in the past. As we sat on the Rock and looked out to the Puget Sound with the sun shining on us, I did my very best to be as present as possible in that happy moment. In a time where it is so easy to escape the present by spending time on our phones and devises, I am determined to be a Time Being, in the here and now. As a mother, I hope to ever stride toward harnessing this supapowa! and passing it on to Evie.

When you beat a drum, you create NOW, when silence becomes a sound so enormous and alive it feels like you’re breathing in the clouds and the sky, and your heart is the rain and the thunder.

 

I am very aware of the privilege I have that allows me to spend time with my baby in the outdoors and I am eternally grateful for all of it. I must remember gratitude. Thank you book club friends, thank you Goose Rock. Thank you tea and chocolate chip cookie. Thank you book, thank you Ruth Ozeki. Thank you trail and those who built this trail. Thank you tree and flower and Baby Bjorn carrier and car and roads and…

 

A Tale For the Time Being by Ruth Ozeki

 

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Outdoor Life

10 Best Seattle Parks

Lately I’ve been spending a lot of my time in the urban parks of Seattle. My baby is a mover, so on days when there is more crying than napping I pack her up and head to a nearby park to walk her calm. Lately, though, she has been sleeping in the car and been more awake on the walks, but she is at least calm and content. It makes me happy to know that she’s looking at the trees and birds and hearing all the sounds. Eventually she will doze off a bit and it will be enough to say we made it through another day. I thought I would share a list of my favorites to visit on these early spring days, with or without an overtired baby.

Discovery Park
Discovery Park is the largest park in Seattle with 534 acres and 12 miles of hiking trails. It is located on the former site of Fort Lawton on a bluff overlooking Puget Sound. Open meadows invite you to spread a picnic blanket and take in the views. In the summer, tall golden grass glows in the sunset. Head down to the beach to wander the shoreline and visit the lighthouse. To get the full experience, hike this 3 mile loop that highlights the best of the park.

3801 Discovery Park Blvd //  Trail map

 

Carkeek Park
A lesser known park boasting gorgeous Puget Sound views, beaches, and miles of trails is Carkeek Park. The forested 220 acres is home to an important watershed, Pipers Creek, where salmon are released and return to spawn. In the spring, visit the small salmon fishery where little fry are bulking up for their journey. Hike for miles in the lush forest or head across the walking bridge over the railroad tracks to explore the beach. Take this 3.5 mile loop that spans the length of Pipers Creek and even leads to a secret orchard. Afterward, warm up with some tea and a treat at Preserve and Gather.

950 NW Carkeek Park Rd //  Trail map

 

Washington Arboretum
One of the best places to see cherry blossoms in bloom in Seattle is the Arboretum. Park at the Graham Visitor Center and head to Azalea Way. I like to find my way there by sneaking around all the windy trails until I spot some pink in the distance. The park is really a massive botanical garden, each tree, plant, and flower meticulously placed and cared for. You will find some native species, but mostly this is a place to see unique species from around the world. One of my favorites is a little grove of redwood trees. To make an afternoon of it, grab a vegetarian lunch at Cafe Flora or stock up some macarons (the best in Seattle, in my opinion) at Belle Epicurean. In autumn, the Japanese Garden can’t be missed.

2300 Arboretum Dr E //  Trail map

 

Volunteer Park
What this park lacks in acreage and trails, it makes up for in charm. Volunteer Park, perched atop Capital Hill, boasts an impressive collection of trees. This map shows the walking paths and identifies each tree in the park. The park is also full of little hidden gems like perfectly circular ponds full of ducks, a water tower (that you can climb up) and stunning dahlia gardens in the summer. There is a playground and a wading pool for the kiddos too. It is also home to the Seattle Asian Art Museum (currently closed for renovations) and my favorite part, the Conservatory. Visit the nearby Volunteer Park Cafe for the full experience.

1247 15th Ave E // Trail map

 

Seward Park
Nestled on a peninsula in Lake Washington is the little oasis of Seward Park. This park has some of my favorite forested trails in the city lined with towering douglas fir. But its the birds that rule this park. All kinds of local species including bald eagles, woodpeckers, and owls make their home here. Visit the Seward Park Audubon Center to learn about this important bird habitat or to join in on a guided nature walk or nighttime owl prowl. A 2.4 mile paved trail follows the outside perimeter of the park along the water, but to really enjoy all that this park has to offer, wander into the interior trails. There is a playground for the littles and even Toddler Trails and Tales with storytime and trail exploration. After a peaceful morning here, head to Third Place Books and grab lunch at Raconteur.

5900 Lake Washington Blvd S //  Trail map

 

Golden Gardens
If campfires and sunsets are more your jam, head to Golden Gardens. Watch sailboats cruise with the Olympic Mountains as a backdrop at this stunning beachfront park. Dip your toes in the sandy beach and bring firewood for the first-come, first serve fire pits. If you are looking to get some miles in though, there is a little know trail system in the park. Here is a 2.5 mile loop to get you started, or if you are looking for more exercise there are plenty of stairs to keep you in shape. Dogs are not allowed on the beaches in Seattle, but they are allowed on the trails and there is even an off-leash area of the park. Kids will love the jungle gym playground at the bathhouse. Walk down to Little Coney for an ice cream or chowder depending on the weather.

8498 Seaview Pl NW //  Trail map

 

Green Lake
By far the most popular park on this list, Green Lake is seemingly the place that the entire city flocks to when the sun comes out. And for good reason. The paved trail around the glacier-formed lake is 2.8 miles, making it the perfect distance for a morning run or a coffee walk with a good friend. It is the meeting place of any and all and the best place for people watching. You’ll see tightrope walkers, bird watchers, painters, dog meet-up groups, and even skateboard mushers. Rent a boat to experience the lake from a different perspective, let the dog run off-leash at the dog park, or even visit the Woodland Park Zoo. Fuel your walk with a coffee at Fix Coffeehouse.

7201 E Greenlake Dr N

 

Alki Beach
Alki Beach became the birthplace of Seattle when the Denny party landed there in 1851. Today it is as close to a beach town as it gets around here. Burger joints and breweries line the street and the sandy beach begs for sand castles and bonfires in the summer. But this park is built for walking and riding as a wide paved trail and bike path follow the beach for 2.5 miles. Head south to the Alki Point Lighthouse or north for views of the city skyline. And don’t forget to grab a donut and coffee at Top Pot.

1702 Alki Ave SW

 

Lincoln Park
If you are looking for a less busy and less crowded alternative to Alki Beach, head to Lincoln Park, also in West Seattle. Trails wander through impressive forest and switchback down to the beach. A wide trail follows the beach making it great for biking or running or just walking along in quiet contemplation. On the beach, the driftwood begs for sitting and the rocks for skipping. In the summer, come for a swim at the outdoor Colman Pool. While in West Seattle, it is always worth a stop on California Ave at Bakery Nouveau for a killer croissant.

8011 Fauntleroy Way SW // Trail Map

 

Matthews Beach
This little known tiny park, eclipsed by nearby Magnuson Park, is all charm on a sunny day. The grassy knoll on the banks of Lake Washington, dotted with little white flowers, is hard to resist. In the summer, brave the chilly waters for a dip in the lake. Head away from the water to find a playground and an entrance to the Burke Gilman Trail. This is where the trail finds its way to the shore of Lake Washington. Head north on the trail and walk or for as long as you like or, if you are feeling ambitious, bike all the way to Woodenville for a sip of wine and lunch at The Commons.

5100 NE 93rd St // Trail Map

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Outdoor Life

A Rainy River Family Hike

This weekend we finally got out for our first family hike. The weather looked somewhat promising so we jumped at the chance to get out on the trails. We headed to the Middle Fork Snoqualmie River for a low key meander through some beautiful forest.

The trail begins by crossing the raging river on one of the coolest wilderness bridges I’ve ever seen. The suspension bridge was built in the 1990’s and before then it was a dangerous ford across the river any time of year. After lingering on the bridge we headed left along the turquoise river.

 

The trail soon climbs away from the river to higher ground with views of Garfield Mountain in the distance. Fresh snow dusted the top and clouds gathered around the cliffs giving it a majestic appearance.

Moss carpeted the ground as we continued through second growth forest and past the shear wall of Stegosaurus Butte looming hundreds of feet above.  Later the trail widens as it crosses many creek outlets on an old railroad bed. The route was once used to transport logs and you can even see some old rusted track along the trail.

Until this point it had been a mix of sun and clouds, but as we got about 3 miles in, it started to rain on us. We pulled out the little rain fly on the baby’s ergo carrier and found a place to sit and eat lunch. Evie got her first wilderness diaper change and nursing. I felt a bit like a wild animal while I nursed her on a rock covered in moss while the rain fell around us.

 

The rain wasn’t letting up so we headed back. We spotted what we thought was a dark colored deer and later when looking at the trailhead board, saw that elk lived in this area. We thought maybe it was a juvenile or female elk. This was a treat as we seem to rarely see wildlife on the trails.

As we packed Evie back up into the car, we decided that she is a true Northwest baby. She didn’t so much as fuss the entire time and the rain didn’t seem to bother her a bit. She babbled away in the car seat as we headed back home which is a new (and very fun) phase. I talked back and listed all the things we saw today: trees, river, rocks, bridge, ferns, moss, lichen, doggies, babies. How many trees do you think we saw? How many rocks? How many ferns… and on and on all the way home.

Hikes Featured in this Post:
Middle Fork Snoqualmie River

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Outdoor Life

Evie’s First Hike

Since the day I found out I was pregnant, I’ve been thinking about baby’s first hike. Of all the firsts that she will have in this life, I was most excited for this one. I wanted it to be special, but as three months passed with never ending rain and as the realities of parenthood setting in, I realized we would just have to go out and do it.

Drink in the beauty and wonder at the meaning of what you see.

So we did it. I packed her up and off we went on a beautiful Sunday afternoon to Twin Falls. This easy, often crowded, short hike was one of the first hikes my husband and I did in Seattle and I’ve been there many times since. Usually the crowds would keep me away on a sunny weekend but it didn’t bother me now. Evie and I were in our own little bliss bubble and I was actually quite happy to see a great diversity of hikers and lots and lots of families on the trail. 

We headed down the trail and I took it all in with new eyes. Not only was it Evie’s first hike, but it was also my first hike in a long time. I took a deep breath and soaked it up. Evie was awake and alert and doing what she loves to do in her ergo carrier- push her head back as far as she can so she can look at everything. She is the most curious baby and loves looking at new things.

I think about what it must look like to her, it is all just a blur of sky and shapes? Does she know that what she hears is a river rushing by? Will she recognize the smell of mud and skunk cabbage next time? There is something magical in knowing that this is the first time she has really looked at an old growth cedar and a sword fern and a waterfall. 

There is something infinitely healing in the repeated refrains of nature- the assurance that dawn comes after night, and spring after the winter.

I want to point out everything to her and tell her the names of the plants and trees. But as Rachel Carson writes in The Sense of Wonder, we should give up the impulse to teach and explain and let our children explore with feelings and emotions. This will be a challenge for me, I want to teach her everything I know as soon as possible! But I must remember to allow her to discover things on her own.

 

It is not half so important to know as to feel.

So instead I make up a song to sing on the way down the trail as I see her eyes getting drowsy. ‘What goes up, must come down. Down, down, down. Down, down, down. What goes up, must come down, down to the river.’

Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts.


 

The Sense of Wonder by Rachel Carson

The legendary environmentalist Rachel Carson wrote this essay in 1956 about spending time on the coast of Maine with her nephew. Her lessons hold up decades later as she gives advice on how to introduce children to nature and spark a sense of wonder. She says that we should rediscover our own sense of wonder and help them discover the joy, excitement and mystery of the world we live in. The edition we have that was gifted to us is a beautiful hardback full of lovely photographs to accompany Carson’s lyrical words.

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