Bowman Bay is in Deception Pass State Park, a favorite place of mine. Straddling Fidalgo and Whidbey Islands, the park comprises over 4,000 acres (1619 ha) of marine habitat, fresh and saltwater shoreline, old-growth forest, rocky headlands, wetlands, and more. The protected waters of crescent-shaped Bowman Bay, on the Fidalgo Island side of the park, attract campers and kayakers from spring to fall. When the weather is nice Washington’s busiest state park is usually too busy for my taste but on a winter weekday it can be almost deserted.
There’s a rocky promontory that requires careful footing and a little exertion to get up and over. If the tide is very low you can walk right around it, on the beach. The tide doesn’t recede that far very often – during normal low tides the water is still at least a foot deep at the bottom of the promontory. But sometimes there are REALLY low tides. During “minus tides” walking around the rocks on the sandy beach always reveals something new (and yes, it’s nice to walk around the steep part of the trail instead of over it!). Once there was a colorful jellyfish the size of a dinner plate floating in the water; several times I’ve found tiny snail egg clusters in rock crevices which are normally submerged.
Last week there were minus tides during daylight hours so I went to Bowman Bay to wander the sandy beach and explore muddy Lottie Bay behind it. It was a clear, beautiful spring day so I wasn’t alone but I found pockets of peace, especially when I focused intently on, well, you’ll see…
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5. Looking up, I saw a group of kayakers paddling across the bay.
6. At my feet, fragments of seaweed floated on gentle waves.
7. A sandy beach on one side, rocky headlands on another – this is what makes Bowman Bay so interesting.
8. Poking around the rocks, I found a snail the color of a creamsickle.
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10. Snail eggs on the left and Rockweed (a seaweed that attaches to rocks) on the right.
11. High among the rocks, a small colony of Menzies’ larkspur was nestled into a safe spot where no one could pick them. I was excited to see these beauties! I had only one lens with me and it doesn’t reach very far but that was OK – I was happy enough just to see the larkspurs.
12. The rocks are always worth investigating.
13. At my feet, more beauty.
14. The biggest driftwood pieces, those that have been here a long, long time, have intricate swirls of lichens painted across their surfaces.
15. Swirls in the driftwood, swirls in the sand.
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17. Muddy-bottomed Lottie Bay faces the pass between Fidalgo and Whidbey Islands, where the water is deep and the current runs fast. The low tide revealed a tangle of snail tracks is revealed in the mud. Or maybe they’re hermit crab tracks. Or?
18. I heard the high-pitched, frantic call of a Pileated woodpecker and spotted him hard at work, gouging a half-dead Redcedar tree. There must be ants and insects in there. Again I regretted not having a longer lens but you get the idea. Pileated woodpeckers are big birds – 16″ – 19″ (40-49cm) long with a 26″ – 29″ (66-75cm) wingspan. They’re found in the American northeast, the southeast, much of the Midwest, across southern Canada and down the American west coast to central California. This fellow flew past me at a close distance and disappeared behind a thicket. Then I heard a hummingbird, searched, and spotted it at the top of a dead tree. Before I could lift the camera, it flew straight at my head, missing me at the last minute. They are aggressive in breeding season! Like the Pileated woodpecker, the tiny hummingbird sports a flash of red, but on its throat. It was probably a male Rufous hummingbird, a tiny bundle of energy only about 3″ (8cm) long, weighing a tenth of an ounce (3gr). It was a privilege to experience the contrast between the mighty forest-dweller and the diminutive nectar-sipper.
19. A pair of walkers relaxed in the sun on quiet Lottie Bay. When the warm sun hits the cool water, clouds of mist rise and blow across the beach. The mist swirled around my legs that day. Two remnants hover over the forest in this picture and slowly burn away.
20. I focused on wind-blown detritus. The wind can cut hard into Lottie bay, blowing strands of eelgrass into trees that lean out over the water’s edge. This tangle must have happened during intense winter storms coinciding with unusually high tides because what you see was at eye-level. One has to wonder about the power of the wind, wrapping and tangling everything up like messy package, so high off the ground.
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22. The same scene, a moment later, with different processing.
23. A little human intervention keeps this piece of Bullwhip kelp in place.
24. The muddy bottom of Lottie Bay at minus tide. The sensuous, sinewy curves of this giant driftwood log seem to be breathing a sigh and relaxing into the mud. It reminds me of sculptures of the reclining Buddha.
25. On my way back to the parking lot a dandelion seed-head caught my eye. The cycles of life…
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In a few days I’ll be back on the east coast visiting friends and family in Massachusetts and New York. It feels very strange to be packing a suitcase and planning plane travel again after the long, COVID hiatus. I am out of practice.
I hope to return with interesting photographs. For me it’s all about paying attention, really looking, and finding interesting visual delights. Actually, that process describes my daily life. The part that can be challenging is translating what I notice into engaging photographs. We’ll see how it goes!
No exploding volcanoes here, no thundering waterfalls, no calving icebergs, no wild elephants or glimmering Northern lights. Just a potpourri of “scenes seen” around the island in the last few weeks, mostly around town, with a brief nature break in the middle.
1. What’s more quotidian than a sidewalk? But oh, what beauty here!
2. One day in April, a No Parking zone received a blessing from cherry blossom petals.
3. Rusty building supplies seen across from a ship-building and repair business in town. Ever since it arrived here last summer, we enjoyed seeing the RV Atlantis, a Woods Hole Research ship that was in for a major overhaul at Dakota Industries. Woods Hole, which is based in Massachusetts, is “the world’s leading, independent non-profit organization dedicated to ocean research, exploration, and education.” The RV Atlantis is a global class research vessel that carries a human-occupied submersible on board for exploring the world’s oceans. The submersible, called ‘Alvin’ has accomplished amazing things. Work on the Atlantis was finally completed this spring; the ship left Anacortes in early April. Video of the departure can be seen here. As I write, the ship has left the Strait of Juan de Fuca and is transiting over the deep underwater canyons off the northwest tip of Washington State.Here’s the tracker.
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7. Just a short stroll from the shipyard, Pelican Bay Books has an extensive maritime book section, excellent coffee, and always-freshly-baked pastries. I like a town where industry and culture get close to each other.
8. I wonder if this tree’s injury was caused by something human-made.
9. I found this noble Bigleaf maple tree one rainy day while driving down a dead-end road.
10. Standing on a dock in the rain, I watched the clouds descend on Mt. Erie.
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17. “B” Dock at Cap Sante Marina was full up with fishing and crabbing vessels the other day. A walk down the length of the dock offered glimpses into a world I know very little about.
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20. Under a moody Pacific northwest sky, I pointed the camera west one evening, toward the San Juan Islands. The knoIl where I stood wraps its rocky arm around Cap Sante Marina, making it a favorite haunt for locals to catch their breath and enjoy the view.
1. On an exhilarating April day cumulus clouds ornament the sky as receding waves lap gently against the shore.
2. Stepping onto the rocks, I find a rippled canvas of scrawled messages, like a Pollack drip painting in the making or the fine craquelure on an old piece of pottery.
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Like the waves at my feet, my mind’s eye shifts back and forth between sumptuous curves of basalt and the austere gray marks creeping across its surface. Even as I frame them, the abstract patterns are evaporating in the afternoon sun. Water shifts from one state to another as the mass of cold, sloshing liquid rolls through the strait, splashes smudgy films and wet pockets into cracks and depressions, then fizzles and morphs into humidity in the air.
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6. Mysterious circles are scattered about like thrown hoops. This one begs the question of time.
7. Turned this way or that way, messages take on different meanings.
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10. Back and forth, the tide continues, a pious servant of the sun, moon and earth.
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14. Even the barnacles, mussels and limpets leave messages on the rocks when the tide goes out.
15. Huddled
16. Scrunched.
17. A palette of warm hues bleeds into cool ones, the lot marked with cold, impatient scratches and dark, muddled crevices. To me, pure beauty.
18. I puzzle over the mysterious circles, some empty, some full. Evaporation must play a role here but exactly how the shapes appear and fade, I don’t know. That’s OK – not knowing keeps doors open.
***
Ten years ago today I followed a team of white horses and a caisson through Arlington National Cemetery to the final resting place of Sean Callahan, Sergeant, United States Marine Corps. I was there for his family, for friends whose sons deployed with Sean, for myself, and for my own son, who was still back in Afghanistan. It was a dangerous, stupid war but our sons cared deeply about what they were doing and about one another. Most of us were lucky; my son came home two months later. Sean’s family still mourns him. I know they’re remembering him today. Semper Fi.
bluebrightly 