Waking up to the sounds of loons, digging clams for dinner, getting lost among giants, feeling the ebb and flow of the tides.
This is how we found Long Island, a stretch of land in Willapa Bay National Wildlife Refuge, accessible only by boat at high tide.
Our canoe was loaded when we took off from the dock, a big part of the load being firewood, which proved to be worth the effort. It was pretty wet out there, and dry wood was not to be found!
Oysters and clams scatter the beach in our new home. Shore birds search the mudflats for their dinner while raptors hunt from overhead. The coastal weather throws a lot of wind and rain at us, and also gives us clear nights and sun breaks. I begin to settle in, to feel the spell cast by the island, embrace the aloneness.
A trail from our campsite leads into the island’s belly, spongy green forests that you don’t so much as go through as get absorbed into. Tall stands of Western Red Cedars zoom to the sky, blocking the sun except where she finds small openings in the tightly knit trees to squeeze her light beams through. On logs far below, Rough-skinned newts catch the sun on the forest floor. The waist high grass soaks our legs and keep us on the lookout for fat slugs. This island had been logged in the past, but once protected, nature comes roaring back. You can cut down but you can’t kill a mother cedar tree. She makes new trees from her roots and shares her resources underground with her neighbors.
Near the center of the island are The Ancient Cedars, a grove of trees over 900 years old that have survived the islands past exploitation. It felt like an honor to be in the quiet presence of these greats.
The only other humans we saw were a couple of day trippers. Otherwise, we were alone among the island’s busy flora and fauna. There are also bears and elk on the island. We didn’t see any but did encounter evidence of at least a bear’s presence in our campsite. The potatoes and squash we roasted the night before disappeared from the fire pit while we were in the tent nearby, escaping a rainstorm.
After 5 days in this place I was starting to grow roots and knew it would be hard to leave. I love being lost. I love aloneness. Charlie supports and shares this part of me, the need for wild places. Together we so wisely listened to the call to go get lost on Long Island.
