how to disappear into the woods
carkeek park, seattle
Do you ever have those weeks where you wish you could disappear into the woods? To lie down on the forest floor and be slowly absorbed by moss?
After days of fallout from what they are now calling the biggest IT outage in history, I needed a little nature to clear my head. I’m dog sitting a fun-loving Aussie named Nauga, and we decide to take to the trees! (And the beach!)
We head to Carkeek Park, which turns out to be a veritable choose your own adventure for hiking and beach access. I counted 4-5 separate parking areas, depending on your need for hiking or picnic tables, running trails or playgrounds.
The energy flows with the winding road in and out of the park, through dark shady woods and occasional sweeping views of the ocean and Olympic mountain range. After nine years, I still can’t believe I live here.
Nauga takes off into the woods, me her faithful sidekick. I am distracted, breathing in the magic, while she loses all patience with me stopping every few minutes for pictures.
We spend an uncanny amount of time looking at chum viewing spots, even though the salmon haven’t made it this far yet. We are haunted by phantom splashes and echoing gulps, some ornery squirrel plunking pine cones and skipping rocks from high above.
Sounds of train whistles and ferry horns fade softly into the distance. And now I’m nine years younger, just arriving to the Pacific Northwest. Alone. Missing friends and family, but excited for a new life and a world of possibilities.
The sunlit trees and fragrant flowers all meld together, creating a pleasantly sweet scent, cinnamon rolls rising in the oven.
Two dragonflies synchronize dancing through the air, dipping and soaring in unison, darting in and out of the shadows.
Nauga and I go off-roading a bit, searching earnestly for river access. Is it even a park day if you don’t get to jump in the water?
A deep gulch drops off steeply into a valley of ferns and pines. My companion doesn’t seem concerned at all. We hike along the ridge, over a hill, and into a clearing, a vast grassy picnic area spread out before us overlooking the ocean.
We see a tiny rabbit hopping up the hill climb trail. I can smell a campfire in the distance, mingling with the salty sea, the sun baked trees, the algae rocks on the beach, remnants of low tide.
The air is heavy with heat, releasing a brisk breeze here and there, a reminder that cooler temperatures are on their way.
The trail leads us to a shaded play area in the woods, glimpses of ocean sparkling in the distance. We nearly stumble into a gaping salmon mouth, forming a tunnel down its gullet to an opening at its tail. Children slide down the salmon over and over, shouting to hear their voices reverberating throughout its echoing belly chamber.
The crowd grows large, the rocky shore swells with beachcombers taking advantage of low tide. An extremely agitated crow lets us know how they feel about it.
We take it as a sign to part ways with Carkeek Park, thanking her for the short reprieve, for getting lost in a cool shady fortress, if only for a brief moment.
Hauntingly yours,
dreary dendrophile
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Beautiful. I can’t wait to visit the Pacific Northwest one day.
There is a very old apple orchard in Carkeek, if you know which trail to walk on. And right about now there should be quite a few apples to snack on during a hike.