At 6:00 am when I take the dog outside it is pouring rain, and even though Sadie politely pees quickly, in two minutes my hair is soaked in the deluge. Hmm, I think. This would be a great morning to try out my new backpacking poncho.
I can see a rock cairn on top of the trail marker and I select a small flat stone and leave it on the top as I pass by, building on other people's previous work. To my right a Blue Heron swoops across Perego Lake, wings spread wide and skinny legs dangling behind and I shorten my stride and lean in to the hill as I ascend the first switchback. Below me I can see a jogger on the beach and I suspect that he will probably pass me somewhere on the hill. At the top of the second switchback I pause to allow him to pass. He is much grayer than I and now he will break the trail and that is as it should be.
At 7:30 it is just starting to get light and I load my pack, poncho and dog in the car and head to Sunnyside Cemetery to hike the Ebey Landing Bluff. The deluge has stopped and my windshield wipers are on intermittent speed and by the time I park it isn't even raining. Nevertheless, I put on my new rain poncho that I started making before Christmas and have been unable to finish because my sewing machine,which is older than I am and belonged to my mother originally, stopped cooperating. I still need to hem it and sew the pocket on the front. Thus far I have borrowed three other sewing machines, which have also all refused to cooperate with me. Now I wonder if perhaps I should try the poncho and see if there are any final adjustments I need to make. Maybe there is a reason I haven't been able to finish it.
We start hiking to the Jacob Ebey House and I like how I can snug the hood around my head, but I can see that where I planned to put the pocket will be too low and that I will need to move it up at least three inches. I also debate the wisdom of shortening the length as much as I had planned. Right now it is long enough that I wouldn't need my separate rain skirt. I decide that until I have hiked with it more that I will leave the length where it is. I can always shorten it later but it is harder to add length.
By now Sadie has done her business and I am carrying a bag of stinky dog poop. The skies are a light early morning blue and I realize that the rain is not going to happen and when I reach the ocean bluff and see the sandy beach below I decide to go left so I can drop the dog poop in the garbage can at the Ebey parking lot and then do the full beach and bluff loop.
Across the channel I can see the smoke of the Port Townsend paper mill and beyond that the early morning light catches the snow capped tops of the Olympic Mountains. I carefully maneuver down the rain slick wooden stairway that takes me to the parking lot, drop my bag in the garbage and head to the beach. Normally I don't like to walk the beach. I like to stay high for the views and I despise walking on soft sand. But today the sand is rain hardened and mine are the first footprints through it.
I stay on the beach the whole way, gazing in wonder at the glistening Olympics. Then I switch my view to rainwashed rocks littering the beach, enjoying the myriad colors and the gleam of white agates. Sadie pleads with me to let her explore the driftwood piles but we've played this game before and she remains firmly leashed, limited to the 12 foot extension that she runs back and forth on.
Up ahead a white seagull sits on the end of a jutting driftwood log and I snap a picture just before it bounds into flight. Twenty feet off the shore loons bob in the water. I have reached the end of the beach loop and now need to start the switchbacks up to the bluff trail. I pause to give Sadie and myself a drink, and I take off my poncho and coat and stuff them in my backpack.
I can see a rock cairn on top of the trail marker and I select a small flat stone and leave it on the top as I pass by, building on other people's previous work. To my right a Blue Heron swoops across Perego Lake, wings spread wide and skinny legs dangling behind and I shorten my stride and lean in to the hill as I ascend the first switchback. Below me I can see a jogger on the beach and I suspect that he will probably pass me somewhere on the hill. At the top of the second switchback I pause to allow him to pass. He is much grayer than I and now he will break the trail and that is as it should be.
The ocean spreads out before me, blue ocean meeting blue sky at a point of infinity. A large white ship travels through the shipping channel. Above, an eagle glides past. The sun is tucked tidily behind a cloud but even so, the reflection on the water causes me to squint. My sunglasses and cap are in the car. I was expecting rain.
I round a corner on the bluff trail and the sun breaks out from the cloud and I gasp as the entire hillside shimmers, each individual water drop reflecting the glory of the sun in an Edward Cullen like blaze of iridescence. I pause in wonder for a few moments before continuing on to ascend the final hill. Below to the left I see rows of cabbage growing.
Another eagle soars past me. It looks smaller than the other eagle. I descend back to the Jacob Ebey House trail and I hear the shrill shriek of the eagle and I search for it in the green fir tops as I walk past tilled fields. I think I see it and then I see that both eagles are sitting side by side on the same tree branch, their white heads shining in the sun. I snap some pictures with my phone.
I no longer have the trail to myself and I tell the people I meet to be sure to look for the eagles. I return to my car, my heart full of beauty.
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