Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour…
Spring brings hope every year as we see seeds bringing forth miracles, buds bursting into flowers and leaves, the air warming after a cold winter’s nap, and the sun returning to rise higher and earlier each day.
Rising early myself, I wanted to welcome the new day and new life along the wide-open trails, beaches, seas, and skies at Ship Harbor.
No human walked the beach at this early hour. It was the realm of wildlife for now. A robin came right up to my feet to find its early worm. Wigeons feeding at the tideline ignored me as I strolled just a few feet away. Song sparrows sang their hearts out on branches right beside me, harmonizing with the rising of the light. Red-winged blackbirds chattered their way around the wetland, and a marsh wren wiggled along the depths of the reeds as it sounded a buzz song of spring fever. It took me a while, but I finally found it camouflaged in the stems.
Oregon-grape leaves and flowers dripped with the early morning dew and filled the air with sweet perfume. Salmon-colored salmonberry flowers opened for the first time; currants blazed in their fuchsia finest as hummingbirds filled themselves with their nectar.
I sat on a log, immersed in the peace of the wild in the quiet before the day. There were no waves on this calm morning, just a gentle lapping at my feet. The tide was high but heading out to sea. Life was rising, glowing, sweet, and full of hope.
The new day arrived. A ferry came in, glinting a golden reflection of the breaking sunrise. Travelers were now coming and going. The first human of the day strolled past me, walking her dog to pass the time waiting for her next ferry. I walked back along the trail, the trees golden in the morning glory, the air full of anticipation of what the new day would bring.
The sun cleared the treetops, and I was hungry for breakfast.
… Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
- Robert Frost
Kath and I returned at noon.
A bright sun blazed overhead, but a cold wind blew bitterly out of the north, and the sky was hazing over with the threat of rain later on. We stayed on the trail to stay out of the wind. No birds were singing; a few gulls flew high over the water, but the morning’s flurry of song and mischief was now gone, an emptiness, a vacuum of silence left in its place.
The beach thronged with people walking, dog-walking, playing, chatting, while waiting for their ferry, with locals like us mingled among them. There were no marsh wrens, no wigeons, no sparrows to fill the air with sounds and songs. Noon’s harsh light was not nearly as photogenic.
The magic of the morning, the life of the marsh and beach had now become the domain of people and their busyness. It was all good, but different. It was pleasant to be here in the brightness of midday. But I missed the beauty, the intimacy of the world now in hiding, lying in wait for the freshness of tomorrow’s dawn.
Directions
Trail conditions: Even after several days of rain, the trail remains mostly dry on the compact gravel. The beach is a joy to walk at all but the highest of tides, especially now as low tides dominate more during the day.
Directions: From Anacortes, take 12th Street west three miles or so to the roundabout. Turn right out of the roundabout onto Ship Harbor Boulevard, then left on Edwards Way which leads to the parking area at the beach.
By bus: Skagit Transit has a bus which will drop you off at the roundabout, leaving you a half mile walk to the beach.
By bike: Twelfth Street has a very narrow bike shoulder on a very busy roadway. Email me if you would like some alternative routes to bypass the busiest and narrowest section. .
Mobility: The trail is a sloped at the beginning, but flat the rest of the way, with boardwalks through the wetland. The ground is wide compacted gravel. Alternatively, going east from the parking area is a mile-long trail that is wide, flat, and fully paved.