At Rainey Creek, the road terminates abruptly and becomes a footpath crossing a sturdy metal bridge. Beyond the bridge, the way opens out into an acre of grassland, the trail following the edge until it reaches forest on the opposite side. It passes over another smaller creek there, debouches into grassland again for a few hundred yards and then climbs into timber for the remainder of its transit through the Cowlitz Wildlife Area. A gate on the opposite end likewise prevents vehicles from entering from the paved haul road. I seldom see anyone on this little-known nature walk, and today it was apparent that no foot had disturbed the carpet of leaves for quite some time. A chill was in the air, so I turned back shortly beyond little Rainey Creek, scuffing through a precipitation of alder leaves with joyous abandon.
365Caws is now in its 14th year of publication, and was originally intended to end after 365 days. It has sometimes been difficult for me to find new material, particularly during the winter months, but now as I enter my own twilight years, I cannot guarantee that I will be able to provide daily posts. It is my hope that along the way I may have inspired someone to a greater curiosity about the natural world. If so, I can rest, content in the knowledge that my work here has been done.
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Rainey Creek Nature Walk
At Rainey Creek, the road terminates abruptly and becomes a footpath crossing a sturdy metal bridge. Beyond the bridge, the way opens out into an acre of grassland, the trail following the edge until it reaches forest on the opposite side. It passes over another smaller creek there, debouches into grassland again for a few hundred yards and then climbs into timber for the remainder of its transit through the Cowlitz Wildlife Area. A gate on the opposite end likewise prevents vehicles from entering from the paved haul road. I seldom see anyone on this little-known nature walk, and today it was apparent that no foot had disturbed the carpet of leaves for quite some time. A chill was in the air, so I turned back shortly beyond little Rainey Creek, scuffing through a precipitation of alder leaves with joyous abandon.
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