Come Walk With Me

Day 356: As parks go, there's not much to Ashford County Park. It covers 80 acres, most of which is wetland and inaccessible to the public, but the perimeter trail and central link provides a pleasant 1.2 miles over mostly paved paths with a steep enough gradient (8%) to let you know you're getting some small cardiovascular benefit. That's what I needed, so I left home 20 minutes early for another errand to allow time to make the loop. Autumn was very evident, which is to say there was a substantial "fall" of alder leaves blanketing the asphalt most of the way around. I had it to myself, as is my preference when enjoying nature. I did not expect to find rare plants or new fungi, did not search for insects, spiders or frogs, did not particularly listen for bird calls, although I'm sure my ears would have perked up if I'd heard something out of the ordinary. I just...went for a walk. Sometimes, that's all you need to settle your soul.

Big Bridge On A Frosty Morning

Day 120: Let's step away from the loom for a bit to take a walk up to Big Bridge. It spans Sahara Creek where the Lower Elk Spur Trail crosses it and then begins to climb into Elbe Hills to connect with Upper Elk Spur and a maze of logging roads. It might not be the most pleasant hike in the world because this trail system was designed for people who enjoy the backcountry from horseback, but if I can break away from watching where I step to look at the surroundings, it'll do in a pinch for a brief moment of "forest bathing." It's fairly close to home, so close that I decided to walk to the trailhead (a distance of three miles one way), conserving gas for more important outings and giving myself a little more exercise in the process. Perhaps I bit off slightly more than I could conveniently chew after months of inactivity. Perhaps I should have turned around short of my goal, but such is not my nature. I pushed on to Big Bridge even when I knew the bottoms of my feet were beginning to blister. Upon returning to pavement an hour later, I began to regret my decision despite the magnificent ice-encrusted mushrooms I'd discovered along the path. As I hobbled back home on three miles of unforgiving asphalt, I told myself I should have known better. This is what happens when you stretch "halfway" to "three-fifths."

Forest Bathing

Day 86: Between traffic and weather, my freedom to take walks locally was severely curtailed in early June. After being nearly struck by a careless driver on three separate occasions, I was unwilling to test my luck any further. For a while, I shifted to the exercise bike to stay in shape, but when wildfire smoke made even that impossible, I pretty much just crawled into the cave-like confines of my house and only ventured out into the yard. Traffic was at record levels through the summer and only backed off slightly as cooler temperatures set in. Rain kept people home, but it also kept me inside. Now whether or not it had anything to do with the political unrest yesterday, when I woke this morning, one of the first things I noticed was silence. Even at 4:30 AM or earlier, the road has been busy every day. Five minutes went by before I heard the first car. "Maybe," I said to myself, "maybe I can take a walk today."

A short but little-known trail near my home has felt the tread of my boots over the years I've lived here, whether I was participating in the Park's fitness challenge, walking just for the sake of walking, or on a botanical mission of one form or another. Of course, I don't always stick to the path when I'm botanizing, but today, I found enough treasures for a week's post material. Equally important, the experience of "forest bathing" was sorely needed by a stressed-out Crow. I feel green again.

A Walk In The Woods

Day 192: They say timing is everything. Not many people know about this little loop trail, but those who do use it frequently during certain hours of the day. By hitting it between reasonably predictable surges, I was able to negotiate it without seeing a single human, although I did have to walk along the highway during busier hours to reach it. My feet have trod the path so many times that I feel I could almost navigate it blindfolded but for the occasional newly fallen branch or pile of deer droppings. Some days during former years of the Park's "fitness challenge," I looped around it three or four times to add mileage to my total. I will find no new lichens, no new vascular plants here; I already know them all on a first-name basis. That said, there are still things to discover among the ferns and mosses: bird's-nest fungi, turkey-tail in a rainbow of colours, bryophytes I have no hope of ever identifying. Nor will I find silence here, a commodity I crave. The road is too close by, although the whish and rumble of traffic fails to drown the call of the Varied Thrush or the liquid melody of Pacific Wren. If these woods hold no discoveries nor a fully immersive forest experience, they still allow me some peace in spirit and occasion for observation of minutae, and for a moment, however brief, my mind can be entirely distracted from the goings-on of the external world. It's not a perfect solution, but it's the best I have for now.

Connected At Last!

Day 131: I don't really enjoy walking on paved bike trails, but I was willing to make an exception for the new section of the Foothills Trail which runs from South Prairie north to connect with a formerly isolated portion which then takes you into Buckley. This particular stretch, roughly three miles long, has been held up in negotiation with adjacent private property owners for at least thirty years. Last year, the final permissions were granted and the trail was at long last completed. Since I was in the area today, I decided to assault it on foot. There was nothing botanically remarkable alongside the path, good or bad (I always have an eye out for invasives), except a few half-open Indian Plum flowers, but multiple bridged river crossings made for a refreshing and scenic walk. I wasn't quite sure where I was when I decided to turn around, so I marked it by GPS and mapped it when I got home. Yep, I'd stopped right where it connected with the old trail down from Buckley. I'd linked up, just as I'd hoped.

Bridge Over Rainey Creek

Day 14: Rainey Creek is not a place you want to visit during mosquito season, but during early spring or mid-autumn, the walk to the bridge can be a delightful diversion. However, if you go during hunting season, you should be advised to wear orange. The brush is thick in places, and you wouldn't want your movement to be mistaken for that of an elk or pheasant. The first half-mile follows an old road, but once you've crossed the bridge, muddy trails take you in various directions. Today, I explored a branch I'd never followed and as enticing as it was to think about continuing on when the path began to climb after a short ways, I had other things on my agenda and decided to leave it for another visit when I can make botany a priority. That said, I was pleased to find the Usnea Tree doing well...but that's for tomorrow's post.

Black-Capped Chickadee, Poecile Atricapillus

Day 141: I do envy the people who say, "Oh, the Chickadees are so tame here! They'll come right down and sit on your hand." Any Chickadee I've met during my ramblings in field and forest has been flighty, jumpy, and impossible to photograph, and I've spent hours trying to get a decent shot of one. Today, I had three in a group at Warbler Bridge (Foothills Trail). As soon as my eye fell on this elusive avian quarry among the tangle of limbs, the birds would leap to another branch or disappear into a thicket altogether. They also seem to know how to use the sun to good advantage. As I would maneuver myself into position so that they weren't in silhouette, they'd hop ahead of me again, always keeping the sun in my eyes as I searched for them. I did finally manage a few shots, although they're certainly not field-guide quality. One of these days, you little stinkers...one of these days, I'll catch you when you're not looking!

Foothills Trail Highlights

Day 126: While friends in the eastern states are experiencing bitterly cold temperatures and snowdrifts threaten to cover their houses, the Pacific Northwest is basking in unseasonably warm weather. I took advantage of it again today to put in a little over ten miles walking the Foothills Trail in Orting. I thought I would share a few of my favourite spots with my readers.

If you park near the fire station and walk east a little over two miles, you may find yourself confronting the Attack Emu. Even though he's behind a sturdy fence decorated with "Not responsible for any accidents" signs, be careful not to approach too closely if you want to take a picture. His beak fits between the wires, and I have no doubt that it would be strong enough to break a lens. He's fast, too. He can sprint across the field in the time it takes you to change ISO settings, and he resents the fact that no one asks him to sign a model release.

At about 3.25 miles, you will reach a bridge over a small bog. Right now, the trees are bare, but as soon as they leaf out, the warblers will come. These fast-moving little birds are hard to spot amongst the foliage, so you may want to study up on "birding by ear" before heading this way. You may also find eagles in the general area, as well as other accipiters.

Four miles in, you'll come to a larger swamp created by a beaver dam at the southwest end. It is always dark and cool here. There are many lichen-covered, broken trees standing in the water, giving the area an air of mystery and foreboding. I call the trees the "Swamp Witches."

The best attraction on the trail as far as I am concerned is the wetland interpretive area. In summer, it is possible to find Blue Herons, Red-Winged Blackbirds and a wide variety of other avian life here. You will also see native and non-native frogs, and of course some of the insects which are the staples of their diet. Recently, many of the young alders east of the picnic table have been cut down by beavers. You'll find the interpretive area 4.5 trail miles east of Orting.

If you'd like, you can continue on to the town of South Prairie, but I generally turn around at the interpretive area or where the trail crosses the next paved road. Ten miles of pavement-pounding is about all I care to do. I'll come back this summer and ride the entire trail on my bike.

Logger Toyz

Day 121: Hikers who are coming in to Pack Forest for the first time are advised by a sign in the parking area to pick up a map at the office. What the sign neglects to say is that the map is hand-drawn, not to scale and out of date by a couple of years. During my walk today, I encountered half a dozen people who had no idea where they were. I offered what help I could, giving them mileages between points and explaining the road system verbally. To add to the difficulty, there are logging operations in place at various points currently. These necessitate trail and road closures, and in many cases, the closures are poorly signed. In fact, eight miles into my walk, I came up against a closed trail with no alternate route indicated. Familiar with Pack's road system, I knew that the branch to the right was a dead end, but also that the left option led down into an area of active logging. The only thing which saved me from having to turn around and go back the way I had come was the fact that the crew was working in another area. From the looks of things, Pack Forest may lose its "nice place to walk" status by the time the logging is done.

Bridges And Beavers

Day 120: Going 'round and 'round on the Tahoma Woods boundary trail is rather monotonous, but it is preferable to walking on the road. However, it's possible to change up the route a bit by taking another short path to the river. This trail is maintained by the students and staff of Columbia Crest School for the most part, although occasional anonymous Parkies will help out by clearing away easily moveable storm debris. It is one of a very few access points to the Nisqually along SR 706 and is not widely known. This bridge crosses a small boggy area fairly close to the end of the trail. Frogs can be found here occasionally, and today marked my first sighting of larger wildlife.

I'd gone to the river and was just climbing back up a staircase of roots when I heard something crashing through the brush. I checked up short, and a good thing I did, or an enormous beaver would have run me down. I am tempted to say that it was the largest beaver I've seen, but my estimate of its size might have been affected by proximity. We stood for a few seconds no more than six feet apart, equally surprised and making eye contact. I fumbled for the camera but was not quick enough on the draw. Beaver slid down a six-foot bank and with a few noisy slaps of its broad tail, submerged in a cloudy pool and was lost to sight.

Bud Blancher Cladonias

Day 93: Whenever I walk a new trail, I am always alert for wildflowers, birds, fungi and lichens. Occasionally, I am rewarded with something I've not seen before, but for the most part, my only discoveries will be common species. While walking the Bud Blancher trail yesterday, I was delighted to find one short section (about a tenth of a mile) where Cladonia macilenta was in abundant evidence. That said, I had to wonder if the density will be reduced now that the trail is open to the light. I will be monitoring the progress of these colonies and taking photographs at various times to document their development.

Muscle Now

Day 285: I'm not exactly sure how I wound up walking four hours on an asphalt track in 90-degree temperatures today. It had something to do with running into a Park acquaintance who happened to be a team captain in the Relay For Life, and a sad story about a lack of team members. The next thing I knew, I'd laid down $10 to register, had been given an official t-shirt which I'd stashed in the car, and was lining up behind the Survivors who took the first lap as a group. Then I started walking. No, "walking" is a poor word to use for what I was doing. They had a DJ and some lively music, and every time I went 'round, I danced the hundred feet in front of the stage. I won a hula hoop for the energy I put into the routine, and it was promptly decorated with purple ribbons by the team captain. From that point on, I did my laps with the hoop in constant motion around my wrist, over my head, or dancing with it as I passed the stage.

As the day went on, several of the Relay's committee members came up to me and expressed concern over whether I was getting enough water and food. "I'm fine," I said. "I took five minutes to have a salad and I just downed a pint of juice. I'm sweating and my skin's not clammy. I'm staying hydrated. Don't worry!" In fact, it felt better to be walking than sitting. I took a five-minute break at the team's booth and wished I'd kept moving.

Most (maybe all) of the teams managed vendors' booths selling anything from elastic bracelets and "neck coolers" to 15-minute massage sessions and reduced-rate memberships in a local fitness center. The headless jock in this photo cracked me up.

Snow Queens, Synthyris Reniformis

Day 171: Early emergers, the dainty and delicate Snow Queen favours the margins of lowland forest, its bell-shaped lavender flowers often paling to nearly white, bearing a pair of dark purple stamens. Its leaves (not shown in this image) are heart-shaped with lightly scalloped edges.

While walking the Yelm-Tenino Trail today, I discovered a streak (for lack of a better word) of Synthyris extending about twenty feet long by five feet wide between a narrow band of evergreens and a horse pasture. A patrol of ten yards beyond either end of the patch yielded up no other specimens of the plant, and I did not observe them anywhere else along the trail. I suspect the availability of natural fertilizer may have played a role in encouraging their growth in this area.

Morning At Tucker's Ford

Day 165: There's something foot traffic should remember about Nicholson Horse Trails, and that's the middle word of the name. Although the trails are often rough and dotted with "road apples" in the summer months, at this time of year, you risk sliding and sinking in deep mud if the equestrians have been about. Last week when I walked Lower Elk Spur, I was able to dodge puddles fairly easily. Today, travel was downright hazardous, especially on the steeper sections due to a combination of rain and recent horse usage. That said, I'd got it in my craw to go up to Tucker's Ford. By the time I got home, I was caked to mid-thigh with the greasy, clayey type of mud all hikers dread. To my credit, I managed to stay upright, something I can't claim for all prior trips, but I found myself saying, "I hate horses" time and again; an unfair assertion in light of the fact that I was using trails set aside specifically for them.

A Walk In The Snow

Day 145: Ten days ago, there wasn't enough snow in Longmire Campground to rise above the welts of your boots. Today, the path to the office was flanked by berms three feet high. I went out at lunchtime with intent to walk to the back gate, but when I reached the turnoff to the wastewater management plant and stepped out of the wheel ruts, I post-holed up to my knees. My walk was cut short by a mile, and perhaps that was for the best because the snow was melting quickly under a steady fall of rain. Nature gives, Nature takes away. It is the cycle of things.

Woozles

Day 130: Some of you...the ones who were fortunate enough to discover "Winnie the Pooh" before Disney destroyed it...will remember the chapter "In Which Pooh and Piglet Go Hunting and Nearly Catch a Woozle." I felt rather like I'd stepped into their circle today when I discovered that my walking route at T Woods had been retraced by a coyote. Not only had it followed my path through the housing area, but it had also patrolled both loops of trail, apparently following my scent. Well, Mr. Coyote, you'll have more to do tomorrow because I tracked you today! Around and around and around we go, hunting woozles, and on each circuit, new woozles join the pack.

Sahara Creek Morning

Day 129: I varied my walking route this morning so that I could hike in restricted territory, i.e., the horse trail system at Sahara Creek. Oh, it's open to the public with one significant proviso: vehicles are required to have an annual permit at a cost of $30. Access is free to walkers or bicyclists, so as a walker, I sauntered right on in and went a mile and a half up the Upper Elk Spur trail.

Now while $30 may not seem like much in today's world, the permit it buys only covers lands administered by the Dept. of Natural Resources. Forest Service lands require a different permit at a cost of $35 annually. Those two cover the lands to the north and south of me. To the east, visitors to the area will need a third pass if they want to enter the National Park.

Not long ago, I saw a bumper sticker reading, "You can't see the forest for the fees." I appreciate the sentiment. That said, I had a lovely walk in lightly falling snow this morning, thankful that I live close enough to these trails that I only need to walk a couple of miles to get to them.

Downy Purple People Eater

Day 128: By tomorrow night, I will have logged 400 miles in the Park's winter Fitness Challenge, and I'm not about to let 20° F. and snowy weather slow me down. I'm taking my exercise in two forms: walking and riding a stationary bicycle, and the time I've devoted to each is roughly equal.

In the Fitness Challenge, different forms of exercise have different aerobic values. Riding the exercycle for 16 minutes is the aerobic equivalent of one walking mile despite the fact that the bike's built-in odometer may show a total of 5 miles travelled in that time. My walking pace is approximately 15 minutes per mile...makes sense when you think of it that way. Of course, I prefer walking outdoors to riding indoors, but lately, it's been a bit brisk. These last few days, I've dipped into my old climbing gear for a silk balaclava to protect my face from the cold and two layers of long johns (wool and polypro) which I wear underneath a down-filled shell. If you see the Purple People Eater marching down the road, don't bother offering me a ride!

Out For My Morning Walk

Day 126: Last week, I was saying, "I think I'll wait for it to get up to 40° before I head out on my walk." This morning, it was, "Dammit, if it'd just hit 20° I'd go for a walk." Yeah, I'm committed to the Park's fitness challenge...or maybe I should BE committed. As soon as the round number rolled up on my weather station, I kitted up in my woollies, drew a silk balaclava over my face, put the earphones on over that and pulled my wool Alpine Topper over the foam "earmuffs," a combination which left me looking rather square and blockheaded. The wind was strong out of the east, but the woods offered protection from it even if the temperature felt lower among the firs and ferns. Eight miles and two hours later, I was back at my front door. It had warmed up to a glorious 24°. Eh, I'm leading the pack. Can't let a little thing like weather cramp my style.

Boundary Trail, Tahoma Woods

Day 118: When the forecast rain hadn't materialized by 10:30 AM, I decided to seize the day and go for a walk. In so doing, I discovered a trail I hadn't known existed on the north and east sides of Park Headquarters at Tahoma Woods. The forest floor was lush with some type of step moss (bryology is a sea in which I do not swim at all well) and my poor little point-and-shoot camera, carried instead of the SX30 IS, recorded the melange of winter greens and browns with a warm wash, warping the photographic temperature toward an unnatural yellow hue. But it was not the color I wanted to capture. It was the complexity of the environment I hoped to portray, and I found that tone-mapping and converting the image to "box camera" served my purpose best. Here, you can see each scale of bark, each ferny frond of moss without the distraction of color. It makes me wonder if perhaps color vision isn't inferior after all.