Gibban

Canoeing recently toward Seattle's Salmon Bay in misty conditions, I began to experience an unsettling feeling of déjà vu. Not being able to define what was causing it, I was left with a sense of unease. Had I turned off the car lights before I left? Then quite suddenly it sprang to mind. I was transported to Deception Pass, then moments later to Sun-moon Lake in Taiwan. The se places, while far apart, were being pulled together in my mind by the mist in the air. Salmon Bay Seattle in fog  Our visit to Deception Pass had been to capture images for a magazine article. At Sun-moon Lake I was teaching a class on kayaking technique. Here in Ballard we had come out for fresh air and to see what interesting ships might have docked since our last visit. But despite the very different circumstances I felt  a very visceral connection between the three times and places. Ballard Bridge and Fisherman's Terminal  Yet the mist in the air was quite different in each case. Why should I s...

Several days of rain have left the clouds exhausted and they have settled to the ground and blanketed the big lake making it a world of its own. Paddling north I occasionally see common landmarks, but I stay far enough out from shore that the hillsides are dark gray-green shadows. Those shadows reference the great towering forest that once defined this land. A wind, a cold wind blows lightly out of the north. It is chilly. I scare up buffleheads every couple hundred yards, their whistling flight song reaching me before I can see them, and after a glimpse, they disappear. Turning the point into Union Bay I find calmer waters and a dense flock of mixed ducks without any coots. Some of them are the blockheaded ringnecks - blockhead is how I remember the identification of a ringneck. As I sit and warm my fingers, I drift slowly towards the largest beaver lodge. A heron flies into view and perches and a dozen ducks carefully maintain their distance from me. It is cold and I head off to t...

I'm not going through that bridge today.  The basin is brimful, short spartina grass awash with a high tide that turned a short hour back.  It won't be long until most of the Menunketesuck marsh is trying to run through that 20 foot gap.   If I go through, I won't be coming back for a few hours. It is grey and dark under a thick layer of clouds, one that not even a faint disc of sun will show through.  It sprinkles lightly with temperatures under 40F... nasty stuff if one isn't prepared.  But, it is calm for the first time in several days.  I will have the river to myself. I pass a dead horseshoe crab, upside down and still with all of its legs and bits.  Usually, you just find the outer shell.  It is impressive how little there is under the huge carapace.  It's a spider in a double garage. (I will find four of these today) dead horseshoe crab With the bridge being a self-imposed limit, I have time to explore the two long arms that drain...