Nature and History by the Bay
Finding remnants at English Boom
Despite our mild winter, habit and inertia have kept me indoors too much. I felt eager to get out for The Field Trip this week, even if I needed to make it short. I found a small local park that promised a new view of Skagit Bay. I found that and more—I found history and a personal connection. Read on!
Getting There
A streaky sky stretched overhead as I headed south. To the east, most of the Cascade Mountains reflected sunlight; by contrast, the Olympics absorbed the slate sky to the east. I passed familiar scenes: a dairy farm with its cows lined up for feeding, soggy fields threatening to sink back into the bay after the next storm, makeshift scarecrows—just yellow shirts staked out—to dissuade the migrating waterfowl from settling in.
I passed through the small town of Stanwood, crossed the bridge that links the mainland to Camano Island, and navigated across an open ridge and then down through thick trees to the bay and English Boom Trail County Park. It’s not an especially popular place, but because it only has room for maybe a dozen vehicles, it can field crowded with just a handful of visitors.
A Beach Walk
I regularly frequent small wildlife areas on the north edge of Skagit Bay, so going to south edge promised a different perspective. What it shared, though, was the blast of sea air that always assures me that I’m home. Although I did not grow up going to the beach often, something about the smell sank deep in me during my formative years. Now that I’ve returned to Western Washington, I realize how much I missed that primal sense during the two decades I lived 300 miles from the coast.
The park boasts a trail. It’s short (not even a mile round trip). I wandered among drift logs along a stream between the saltwater and the salt marsh that stretched beneath a bluff topped with expensive houses directed toward the bay and Mount Baker (when clouds part).
I saw a bald eagle high above, I watched a killdeer pop along the beach, I listened to the gulls out on the sand visible in the middle of the bay during low tide.
I have walked through scenes like this countless times, and each one brings forth gratitude.
Discovering History
Just offshore are remnant pilings. Some are mere nubs, barely noticeable. Others still stand tall, even though the sea has eroded their bases, giving them the appearance of long thin legs atop deteriorating ankles. Driven in a century ago, their longevity impresses.
Their purpose was to contain enormous log booms, floated here from a few miles away at Milltown, now just an intersection I passed through on my way. The English Logging Co. cut forests in the foothills and brought them to the bay and then to this site before transporting them to mills elsewhere in Puget Sound.
I am barely old enough to remember the expanse of log booms in Puget Sound and the many working mills along coastlines in my youth. But for more than a century, these signs of enterprise seemed natural.
Skagit Bay, as interpretive signs at the park show, is critical habitat for many creatures, including salmon. The bay is quite shallow, and it is almost impossible to fathom moving these large log booms around in a way that didn’t profoundly disrupt the ecology here.
Walking along the shore, my feet sinking slightly in the sand and pebbles, I considered how much of the Pacific Northwest economy was visible from this one spot. The sea supported the fishing and canning industry. The forests now regrown (and being re-cut) and the pilings reminiscent of the glory days of logging speak to when timber was king. The distant mountains held mines, too. In the foreground, and along my route to and from home, farms behind the dikes that keep the bay at bay remind of the significance of agriculture.
Nature and History—and More of Each
This is not unusual for me: I went to find some nature and uncovered history instead. Each layer I unearth, I find more of each. I move through the world like this and find it enriches my experience.
Once I returned home, I explored more to find out about the English Logging Co. It appears that it was the company that logged the hillside where our house sits, gazing out at Skagit Bay, no log booms in sight.
Some days, life circles.
Closing Words
Relevant Reruns
The interpretive signs placed at the park were partly funded by Island County’s Marine Resources Committee, which exists because of the Northwest Straits Initiative that I wrote about here. This older newsletter describes a place not too distant as the swans fly from English Boom that has a different (though related) history.
New Writing
Did you miss the interview I posted last week for paid subscribers? Now would be a good time to upgrade your subscription to learn about local farmer and poet Jessica Gigot.
Last week, I also published a news story in a local weekly about an annual meeting of local farmers, which is always a good way to get a pulse on things happening.
As always, you can find my books, and books where some of my work is included, at my Bookshop affiliate page (where, if you order, I get a small benefit).
Taking Bearings Next Week
I’m always glad when my newsletter cycles around to The Library because it means I get to read something. I haven’t chosen it yet, which means it won’t be a book next week because time is too short. Stay tuned!