Open Water Swimming in Puget Sound: Besotted by the Sea

Apologies to those of you who follow this blog for the lack of content this year. While I used to post about all the places I went, all the getaways, hikes, and such, I'm not inspired anymore to promote favorite places that are getting a bit much traffic for my taste. Our special corner of the world is definitely on the map now.

I've been hiking some, been out in my kayak a few times, and attended a great farm dinner this past summer. But somehow I didn't get around to blogging about those things. Mostly what has grabbed me this year is my healthy addiction (is that an oxymoron?) for plunging, dipping, bobbing, and swimming in Puget Sound, the southern portion of the inland Salish Sea.

Although I first plunged into the Sound in January 2020 (for probably less than 15 seconds) and blogged about "wild swimming" last year, this is the first year I've really truly become an open water swimmer. (Exhibit A, short video of me this past January...)

Open water swimming exploded in the region during the first couple years of the pandemic, but I didn't really get my groove until this year when I connected with a regular swimming partner who also lives near the Sound. The camaraderie is a motivator. Since last winter, my swimming pod has grown. And the more you go, the more you start to recognize the other regulars.

Last week I was interviewed on the beach by someone from KIRO radio about being an open water swimmer. [They didn't use my quotes, but here is the story.] She asked, why do you do it? What keeps you coming back?

I don't remember exactly what I said, something like, I start craving the cold water when I don't go for a couple days. It's clarifying, bracing, invigorating. There's always a bit of euphoria.

Plus I've witnessed many glorious sunsets this past summer and early fall while in the water or on the beach right after swimming. Sometimes we're lucky and a curious seal or two pops up close by to check us out. I've seen sea stars underwater as I've swam above them.

A highlight this past summer was the warm July evening we took a road trip north to Chuckanut Bay to swim in the bioluminescence, which is plankton that glows in dark water when it's disturbed. When it's fully dark, I put my head in the water and thrust my hands forward as I began my breast stroke, swimming into bursts of little plankton galaxies.  It was "effing magic," to quote an Irish gal from the Golden Gardens RAFT group of swimmers I join some times.

We've been spoiled this past summer with such warm and dry weather for so long. Now that fall has really arrived, it will take more fortitude to stick with it. Last Friday I did my first swim in a chilly rain. It was still awesome, but I was pretty chilled afterwards. A thermos of hot tea is a must now.

Today we went again in a steady rain. There was only one other solo woman out there.

"This is my favorite swimming weather," she told us. It was especially exhilarating being out there in the elements. It felt more wild.

I was initially inspired by a few YouTube wild swimming videos out of the United Kingdom. In an "it's a small world" twist, the photo above shows me sharing a dip with Cheryl, who was passing through Seattle from Scotland. She found the Seattle Open Water Swimmers FaceBook page and asked if anyone would be willing to join her for a swim.

A couple of us picked Cheryl up at her hotel and spent a fun few hours learning a bit about her life in the UK and taking the plunge. If you want to see a few seconds of pure joy, check out this short video.

 

If you're interested in giving it a go, this piece in the Seattle Times provides some advice and more links. Start gradually and see how you take to it. It's not for everyone. More than half of my friends are a hard no when I suggest they join me some time.

No matter how stressed or anxious I might be feeling, it always dissipates when I hit that cold water and start swimming. I come out with a smile on my face every time.

Like I told the radio interviewer, I'm hooked...on the cold clarifying water, the friends and companionship forged through a shared sense of adventure, the glimpses of marine wildlife, the sounds and scent of the sea, the joy of movement and swimming, and just fully inhabiting and being in a beautiful place.

And mostly, I'm grateful to live so close to the sea and to have discovered this joyful, slightly crazy, life-affirming habit.

If you're interested in seeing some short videos of me or friends swimming, post-swim musings and sunsets, check out my YouTube channel.

Happy trails and thanks for visiting Pacific Northwest Seasons! In between blog posts, visit Pacific NW Seasons on FaceBook, Twitter, and Instagram for more Northwest photos and outdoors news.

Walking Seattle: Garden Whimsey and Peek-a-boo Pets

 

Last year I blogged about all the garden art and gnomes I spied while walking around my northwest corner of Seattle. I'm back again, revisiting and searching for new gems. This time pets crept into my photos, lurking and lounging as I passed by.

As I mentioned last year, looking for garden art really makes my walks feel like a treasure hunt. And since I started seeing more cats (and a few dogs), it brought a whole new level of happy hunting to my walks.

Since coyotes are a real and present danger to cats in the 'hood, I thankfully saw very few wandering on their own. In the last few months, I even trapped a young stray who was then happily adopted into a good home.

So without further rambling, let's get going.

Spotting a cat (or even less commonly, a dog) is a rare treat now in north Seattle. Besides the coyotes, racoons and owls can prey on them. On an hour+ ramble one late afternoon, this black cat was one just two cats that I saw. While black cats don't get adopted as easily, I think they're gorgeous.

While gnomes are the most popular figurine in Seattle yards, frogs seem to be a close second (by my unofficial, off-the-cuff estimation).

 

A month or two ago, I passed by The Goblin Pub (above), which is quite enchanting in the care that was put into creating this neighborhood watering hole. (I assume gnomes are allowed.) I suggest you enlarge the photo of the interior below to see the incredible detail...a restroom door, a mural on the back wall, taps for the different drinks, the patrons, and more.

The likely proprietors of the pub live behind the gate below, which I think also looks like something out of a fairy tale.

The cheerful glass daisies below are a favorite from my spring wanderings this year. I know they were made by the glass artist who lives in that home (we share a mutual friend). And see that little pink gnome in the window flower box?

This super handsome orange boy (pretty sure it's a boy based on size) below matched his porch wood stain color. His owners must have planned it. :)

The lovely tabby in the window below is what started my quest to spot pets on  walks. I assumed they would mostly be in windows, but there were a few porch cats too.

And perhaps Kermit, deeply contemplating the meaning of life reminiscent of Rodin's famous The Thinker sculpture, has inspired the profusion of frog art?

Now this, my friends, is some serious yard gnomery. Or, as my friend Suezy informed me, a very large donsy of gnomes. A friend told me about the raised bed full of gnomes, so I had to check out it for myself.

Yes, there are dogs in a few windows. These pups live just down the street from me, and I often see them out walking their human dad. (This isn't the sharpest image but a smartphone snap.)

This sweet pup was very good mannered and wistfully watched me passing by. I wished I had a ball or stick to throw over the fence for it.

I can't claim the shot below, but it's so alluring I have to include (shot taken by my friend Corey somewhere near Woodland Park Zoo in NW Seattle). Look at that...dragon(?) face, what a character!

And figurine or real cat? At least floofy kitty was posing like a figurine.

I could post many more images, but I'll leave it for now. I'll continue to hunt for pets and quirky or even beautiful yard art on my walks. Maybe this will become an annual post on this blog (at my current rate, my only post per year)? Want more?

I'd love to hear about your favorite yard art/pets/what you see in your neighborhood in a comment below!

Happy trails and thanks for visiting Pacific Northwest Seasons! In between blog posts, visit Pacific NW Seasons on FaceBook, Twitter, and Instagram for more Northwest photos and outdoors news.  

Wild Swimming in Seattle

My new passion started as a polar bear-style plunge, a quick dip in and out of the chilly sea near my home.

Inspired by a friend who was doing plunges and posting about it on FaceBook, I decided to join her in late January 2020. (I was also inspired by this lovely British film by Hannah Maia.)

When it's 47 degrees F° outside and the water is even colder, a plunge is an instant wake-up. I'M HERE, IT'S COLD, AND I MUST MOVE!

Despite the cold, I quickly got hooked on that bracing sense of exhilaration, that feeling that you've done something epic after swimming in the sea, even if just a few strokes.

The very first plunge. January 2020.

So I started going almost every week, and sometimes a good friend joined me. Despite wind and waves, we'd wade out to waist deep water, then plunge in and swim in a circle and back to shore. My very slender friend Maryann, who has much less natural insulation than I do, somehow managed to stay in longer every time.

Come March, when the world started going sideways and the pandemic lockdown started, this weekly ritual became even more important. It provided a sense of outdoors adventure and excitement when we were told stay home except for shopping for essentials. 

Last spring, these weekly plunges became a vestige of normalcy. On nice days, Maryann and I would sit on the beach (distanced) and enjoyed the warmth and sunshine before and after. Often we would stop and get hot tea and a scone afterwards at Miri's, the little cafe on the beach at Golden Gardens.

Surveying the sea, getting ready to swim

 A few times we went over to Lake Washington, which was somewhat warmer. In the summer, with swimming pools still closed, it was heavenly to swim, like really  swim, in the pleasantly cool lake.

 

 

As the year progressed, sometimes I'd miss a few weeks here and there, but getting back out there got my juices going again. Last summer, we went over to Bainbridge Island for a plunge, with a view back across to Seattle. I started shooting short little videos that I dropped on YouTube (Bainbridge below):

 

 

Earlier this year, after noticing a big group of much more hard-core swimmers than us on the beach, we went up to ask them about how they do it. As we approached, I heard "Jill!" (my name). It was long-time neighbors who live across the street. 

 

They started a little after us last year, and their group has ballooned to sometimes 25 swimmers, real swimmers, most with wetsuits and floats, who swim for 30 minutes or more (see the video below).

 

 

So now I'm teetering on the verge of becoming a true open water swimmer. I'm slowly upping my time in the water each week. 

 

But it's still baby steps. An exception was a couple days ago, when I stayed in almost 15 minutes (video below). The infamous "heat dome" that lingered over the Pacific Northwest raised the Puget Sound water temperatures near the surface to well over 60 degrees (in the winter and spring, it's in the 40s).

While Seattle is known for having some world class open water swimmers, I'd like to up my game. Besides the challenge and camaraderie, "wild swimming" offers a host of health benefits.

So we'll see. It's still daunting and a bit scary to me. I don't aspire to swim across Puget Sound from, say, West Seattle to Bremerton like some do. But every increase brings a sense of accomplishment and, dare I say, well-being.

How about you? Have you done any serious open water swimming or even just plunges?

 

Happy trails and thanks for visiting Pacific Northwest Seasons! In between blog posts, visit Pacific NW Seasons on FaceBook, Twitter, and Instagram for more Northwest photos and outdoors news.

 

 

Mourning the Loss of a Secret Garden

 

Last spring when I started walking more around my corner of northwest Seattle, I first noticed the sign in front of a lush wooded lot: 

"Notice of Proposed Land Use Action."

I've seen a lot of these signs around Seattle the last few years, as the city rezones single-family residential areas to allow multi-story, multi-family buildings. With our shortage of housing and the City's push to increase density, many homes with spacious, landscaped yards are being demolished and scraped bare to make room for big boxes.

This particular sign showed the whole south end of the block being torn down (three homes) and replaced with a multi-story building extending to the proposed sidewalk. There wasn't a tree in sight on the proposed development sketch.

My stomach churned in dismay at the impending loss of the gorgeously landscaped lot on one corner, where a charming small house with a Japanese flair sat surrounded by a variety of beautiful, vigorous trees and happy, healthy shrubs like rhododendron and Oregon grape.

With the pandemic lockdown, the plans hit pause, and I often walked past that home with an increasing appreciation for the time and care the owners took cultivating such a sweet woodland in a built-out neighborhood.

And so a year passed, with many trips walking past this treasure, and nothing happened.

Within the last few months, however, the sign finally came down and the house started to look uninhabited. A few plants and trees started to disappear, and the yard began to look less than its meticulously cared for best. 

A few weeks ago, after staying away for a few days, when I returned and saw the devastation, I was shocked. The huge laurel hedge and house at the west side of the block were demolished into a scorched earth war-like zone of dirt, jagged pieces of wood, and smashed bricks. The little Japanese house was also gone, with just a pile of rubble remaining.

But the woodland out front remained intact, for the moment. With the house gone, my walking partner and I scrambled over the bank and into an enchanted glen of native plants, shrubs, and lovely mixed trees.

I stepped into what felt like a secret garden, with native wood sorrel and delicate purple woodland violets scattered around carefully placed stones and the base of trees.

This little glen felt surprisingly private and rich, just across the street from a playfield. With sun filtering through the newly leafed out Japanese maples and evergreens, I breathed in the rich scent of mature forest.

My friend Lynette brought her clippers, and got some greenery for the beautiful wreaths she makes. I came back a day later (they weren't working the weekend there) with a few pots and trowel and dug up some wood sorrel and violets to take home, to spare them the crush of the tractors.

Before I stepped inside the glen, I paused and watched a hummingbird hovering and flitting around in there. As I stood in the glen, I found myself touching the trees, calling each one sister. It pained me to see such spring brilliance, with fresh shoots coming out of the evergreens, Japanese maple leaves unfurling, and lovely blossoms, knowing very soon their lives would be destroyed.

It brought back sorrowful feelings of a few months earlier, when I made the appointment for a vet to come to my home to put my Tashi cat to rest, although in that instance we were ending her suffering from end-stage kidney failure. She didn't know the fate that was soon to befall her.  In this instance, these trees were healthy and vibrant with the promise of spring, likely not cognizant of their impending demise.

I was dreading walking by and seeing all this gone, but each day for a week the glen remained intact. Maybe the developers saw the value in retaining these mature trees and a well-tended landscape; perhaps they would keep them as an asset to work into their development plans.

The next Monday I got a text from Lynette, telling me they had taken our garden. While I thought I couldn't bear to see it, I made myself walk over there to record what I saw, which was pretty darn sad. It made me feel numb.

I snapped a few shots and walked away. I haven't looked at it since. Fred, who tends the community garden across the street, said they found empty bird nests amidst the trashed landscape. No one in the neighborhood is happy about it.

I do realize the irony of this European American, whose nearby home sits on what was lush forest land not much more than a century ago, bemoaning the loss of a mid-20th century garden. My ancestors came to this area over 150 years ago and were likely involved in the massive destruction/filling of the tidal estuary between West Seattle and present-day downtown.

But still, trees are important for the health of our climate, our birds, our wildlife, and, yes, people. The City of Seattle has some tree protection ordinances, but nothing that would have saved this little lot. 

I think it's a shame. 

Shame on the City for not providing more oversight and regulations to save a wonderful woodland, however small, that provided valuable habitat for birds and such. Shame on the developers for not adjusting their plans, for not sacrificing a little $$ for the sake of saving a restorative woodland that would have been wonderful for the new residents and important for the birds who nested there. Shame on us all for allowing the continued loss of green space and trees in our city and region.

Happy trails and thanks for visiting Pacific Northwest Seasons! In between blog posts, visit Pacific NW Seasons on FaceBook, Twitter, and Instagram for more Northwest photos and outdoors news. 

Gnomes, Art, and Garden Treasures: Walking Seattle Neighborhoods

 

Since I've been walking my corner of Seattle much more in the last year, I'm discovering a whimsical side of my city.

Lately I've started approaching my walks as a treasure hunt. I look closely in yards and gardens I pass for the quirky, the art, and of course the ubiquitous gnomes. 

Seattleites love their gardens. With 75 percent of its residential land zoned for single-family homes (which BTW is now controversial with our growing population and affordability issues), there are a lot of sweet, tiny, and spacious yards to pass.

While some zoning is switching from single family to more dense development, with a loss of landscaping, plenty of yards and gardens persist, for now.

For starters, I'm seeing a lot more painted rocks, some with messages of encouragement, placed carefully in rockeries, parking strips, and even drainage swales.

And then there are little surprises sometimes when you look down at the ground.

Fence art and decorative gates are one of my favorite things to spot. I love that this niche is giving some artists work. The gorgeous sunflower gate below appears to be hand-carved.

One corner home/yard I passed last week was full of Easter eggs scattered about and hanging from trees, along with various other bits of garden art, like an old sink repurposed as a (dried up) frog pond. They even had a little machine set up on steps beside the sidewalk that pumps out bubbles as you pass by. 

I think I would like whomever lives there.

After gnomes and Buddhas, frogs (or toads?) are pretty popular, like this chill guy and the pensive one below. He called me to stop and contemplate for a moment.

And yes, the gnomes. They call a bunch of crows a murder of crows. Do you know what a group of gnomes is called? (I don't, but I could easily make something up. A gaggle? A nonsense? Ah, some commenters below says it's a donsey of gnomes).

My personal taste trends toward the Asian, which I find charming, a bit mysterious, and serene.

My Buddha, created by a Zen Master

This unique sculpture caught my eye yesterday. It looks like these three fish are swimming toward Puget Sound from up on the side of a modern box-style home.

While the rush is on here to convert smaller houses with bigger yards to tear-down/rebuild big box houses (or apartments) with very little yard, I value the green spaces, the messy yards, the tidy yards, and the shrubs and trees that provide habitat for birds and urban wildlife. 

And I especially appreciate those who take the care and time to add their own quirky, artistic touches to their landscape. I think I need to start looking for a home gnome to stash in my yard.

Not my gnome.

How about you? Do you have a yard with any unique art? Any gnomes or toads or decorative touches? Would love to hear in a comment below!

Happy trails and thanks for visiting Pacific Northwest Seasons! In between blog posts, visit Pacific NW Seasons on FaceBook, Twitter, and Instagram for more Northwest photos and outdoors news.