Anderson Island
The first warm weekend of spring always makes me glad to be alive. The Indian plum is leafing out, the salmonberry is just starting to show a little color, and the birds are all thinking about pairing off, even if they’re still mostly in their flocks.
One Sunday early in spring, I headed down to the Nisqually River delta in south Puget Sound to enjoy the new season on perfectly still water.
Route map. A discover pass is required to launch at Luhr.
I was originally planning to wend my way through the islands of the delta at high tide. Timing would be crucial. Nisqually is notorious for its vast mudflat that dries out on low tide surprisingly far from shore, leaving acres of sucking mud that cannot be traversed on foot unless you’re a heron. I myself have gotten stranded out there, with no choice but to climb out of my kayak, sit down on the coaming, and eat my lunch while the water slowly returned.
I was planning to work my way through the maze of mud islands and then turn up the Nisqually River for a bit, but my plans were thwarted when I rounded a corner and encountered a small flock of swans. Not wanting to disturb these beautiful visitors, who must soon face the long flight to the tundra and who have few enough peaceful resting places remaining to them in the face of the endless onslaught of development, I turned back out into the bay.
You’re never far from somewhere beautiful in the south sound, so I headed over to Carlson Bay on Anderson Island, one of my favorite campsites in Washington. I’d walked the interpretive trail through Andy’s Marine Park many times, but this time, I wandered farther afield into Andy’s Wildlife Park, a 180-acre forest and bog in the heart of the island.
Pacific wrens were singing, kinglets and chestnut-backed chickadees formed flocks with nuthatches, and I saw my two favorite woodpeckers: a pileated and a red-breasted sapsucker. The sapsucker was calling like a maniac and eventually attracted a return call from a prospective mate.
Launch at Luhr Boat Ramp. Anderson Island in the background, Olympic mountains in the distant background.
Kayaking Nisqually River delta. The gazebo marks the end of the boardwalk, as close to the salt marsh as landlubbers can get. We kayakers can get considerably closer.
Kayaking past Luhr’s Landing. The white building on the pier houses the Nisqually Reach Nature Center, but it is almost always closed.
Small mud islands in the delta. On these bright, sunny days, you just feel lucky to be alive.
A hungry dunlin scours the mud. Soon, this one will don its breeding plumage and head north.
Success! The dunlin finds a tasty treat in the mud. One gulp and it’s down the hatch.
Mount Rainier, the king of Washington, master of all it surveys.
On the way back, I encountered a trio of red-throated loons, sticking their noses in the air like they’re too good for the rest of us. Beyond them, big flocks of common goldeneyes and buffleheads were stealing baby oysters from a commercial shellfish operation. I hope you get them all, fellas!
I paddled fast and hiked far this afternoon. After a long winter, it felt good to stretch my muscles under the bright, blue sky.
—Alex Sidles