From my perch on a large log, the beach at Tolmie State Park was abuzz with activity – human and animal.
A sunny Saturday afternoon had attracted plenty of visitors to this small park on Puget Sound north of Lacey.
My wife suggested we make the trip, and I gladly put off any thoughts of attacking the jungle of blackberry branches on the side of our house. We quickly gathered up the kids and the dog and headed toward the park on Big Slough.
As our son and daughter roamed the beach, I surveyed the scene around us.
Two barefoot girls scampered across the beach looking for shells, shouting with excitement whenever they found the kind they were seeking. I never could figure out exactly what they sought, but it was fun to watch them run to and fro, only to stop in their tracks, bend over and inspect a shell.
“I don’t think anyone is as lucky as we are,” the younger one exclaimed when they discovered more of the shells they sought.
Gulls wheeled overhead in the blue sky, looking for a quick meal to be exposed by the falling tide. Crows hopped from one branch to another in the trees at the head of the beach, waiting for a child to drop something that would make for a perfect crow snack.
In the shallow water where a creek entered the Sound, a patient and stoic heron stuck to its fishing spot, even as kids, dogs and grown-ups played all around it. I never did see the heron thrust its long beak into the water, but also never saw it leave its spot.
Farther out in the water, small buffleheads popped to the surface after diving below in search of food. One moment, a handful would be paddling around, and then they would disappear, leaving only rings on the water’s surface. A moment later their black-and-white heads would pop up like a bath toy.
I then watched as a man rowed a small skiff toward shore from his small cabin cruiser moored to a buoy in the Sound. A medium-size brown dog sat patiently in the back of the skiff as his master manned the oars. When he got close to shore, the man stopped rowing and the dog bounded ashore. The man, however, had to take off his shoes and socks to make it the last few feet to the beach.
We left the beach after a while, prodded by our son’s pleas to explore the park more so he could use his GeoMate Jr. A gift from grandparents, the small GPS unit has him hooked on geocaching.
As we walked along the short Twin Creek Trail, I noticed how quickly the sounds of the parking lot were replaced by the twittering of songbirds, the rat-a-tat-tat of a woodpecker, and the chirps of a lone frog or toad somewhere in the forest.
We met only one other group on the trail, most folks opting to head for the beach and sunshine that’s unfiltered by cedars and fir trees. We spotted a squirrel hiding atop a rock, its dark body nearly entirely camouflaged by the shadows. We passed by skunk cabbage ready to unfold its large green leaves and expose its yellow hood. My wife chuckled when I asked for the camera, knowing I would soon be on my knees to get an up-close image of a budding wildflower.
The kids eventually found a cache – titled “Holiday Hide” for you geocachers – hidden trailside. That joy of discovery was a perfect description for an afternoon spent exploring a park new to us.
Jeffrey P. Mayor: 253-597-8640
jeff.mayor@thenewstribune.com
blog.thenewstribune.com/adventure
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