I see bumper stickers in town that say, “Keep Little Cranberry Wild.”
Wild – there’s an interesting word. We talk about wildlife and wild lands (as opposed to tame, I guess). What does wild mean? The Wilderness Act defines it as lands “untrammeled by man,” without permanent improvements, where man is a visitor.
Is Little Cranberry Lake wild? Is it our intention to have it truly wild?
The Anacortes management plan for the ACFL states that the ACFL lands “… will be managed to conserve and enhance their unique environment and wildlife habitat while maintaining recreational opportunities for residents.”
Does Little Cranberry do that? With these guidelines, should a kayak launch be added? Should boats or trails be allowed at all, as some have suggested?
The lake is not wild or truly natural, as a large earthen dam at its northern end has changed the morphology and lakeshore considerably. But given this intrusion, the wild returns anyway.
Kath and I ventured to the north end of the lake after lunch this past Sunday to hike around the lake, as we do once a month or so, and to look for the wild at Cranberry . Open eyes were a challenge -- the day was cold, rain spitting at times, the wind roaring with power in the canopy, and whipping up waves on the lake. We tightened our hats and coats.
Springtime was fighting the cold with all the joy it could muster, with buds opening, osoberry blooming, mosses glistening, and wildlife returning. Golden-crowned kinglets flitted right beside us among the lakeshore bushes. A goldeneye hunted the lake’s depths. But little else moved.
We walked south on the west side of the lake, mostly in silence as I was getting over a sore throat. The trail had slippery rocks and muddy patches to dance around. The stream at the south end gurgled with intensity.
The trail along the south shore has been closed for some time now to give wildlife some breathing room in the wetlands. We left the lakeshore to climb through the woods along Trail 105 to Big Beaver Pond. Kath and I faced each other to talk about the wilderness emotion the lake evokes. I stared beyond to see a huge river otter shimmying clumsily over a log and then slipping back into the water near the beaver dam. The sight was magical, as was its timing! We both just stood in awe.
To emphasize the point, a male barred owl hooted an odd refrain, followed by a higher-pitched and clearer female response asking, “Who cooks for you-all?” They chatted several more times. This place is alive with wild! And this, a frigidly cold winter day.
The pond near the beaver dam lay covered with duckweed, a new trail cut through it by the otter. The dam was holding, the beavers doing their thing in diversifying the health of Big Beaver.
We returned along the eastern shore. The storm was keeping most people indoors on this March weekend, yet we met a woman sitting on a rock overlooking the lake, on holiday from England, visiting our town to go on weekly Orca cruises, and in these woods today to listen to music and see this amazing wilderness right in town. We shared about the gift of having the ACFL.
“Brilliant!" she said.
You know how Trail 102 goes: up and down on rocks and gravel, through the 2016 burn area, back into the large trees and wetlands at the northeast corner of the lake, then swinging back west toward the dam and parking area. We kept our eyes and ears open, marveling at the beauty and immensity of this lake and forest right here in our backyard, and grateful for all those who protect it for today and tomorrow.
Let’s keep it wild.