A Wicked, Wild, Windy Wavy Walk

Rain poured down as I walked Murphy around the block in the predawn dark, a southeast wind tossing the treetops above us and tugging at our coats. Then the sun rose, the clouds parted, and Fidalgo Bay shimmered with whitecaps against the deep blue water.

In the afternoon, the game changed. As predicted, the winds strengthened as they veered to the southwest. Fidalgo Bay flattened out, protected by the hills of Fidalgo. Blue skies still stretched above us to the Cascade foothills, the mountains behind shrouded in clouds.

An hour before sunset, curiosity pulled me to Rosario Beach. As I drove along Rosario Road, the trees above me whipped wildly in the windy storm, small branchlets falling like snow. The sun still blazed, bright but low. Coming into Rosario, the parking lot was nearly empty. I hurried down the trail to the beach, watching above me for more falling branches. Just in case, you know.

One morning years ago, I had met with the folks at Walla Walla on a breezy day, not nearly as strong a wind as today. As we talked, I felt someone hit my head with a baseball bat, and the next thing I knew, I was on the ground looking up at the others. “A branch hit you!” one of them said. I looked around for a branch the size of a baseball bat. No, it was just a one-inch thick, foot-long little thing, but in that breeze, falling that far, it was enough to knock me to the ground. I respect winds like this in the forest.

Stepping onto the beach today, I felt relief to be clear of the trees, though the gale made every step a battle. Walking across the logs, the wind pushed against every step. My eyes teared up. Waves crashed against the beach, scouring the rocks away at the water line. The winds roared; the waves pounded as I stood just above their reach.

Breakers rolling into Rosario

Oh the captivating beauty of this sweeping shoreline leading to the headland, with the waves curling, splashing, rushing up, then hissing back into the next wave already rising to take its place. The waves grew to become huge monsters, curling and crashing down one after another. They caught me once as I was focused on taking their picture! Yes, squishy shoes.

But the wind. Oh the winds, coming across the many miles of fetch from the ocean to here, unopposed and building strength, the force of their fury undeniable.

A woman crossed the tombolo, then turned back, raising her hands in surrender and mouthing to me the words, “These winds are too strong!” though her voice was lost in the roar. I walked north in the lee of the headland, though each step was still a struggle against the wind’s power. Others passed me going the other way, one yelling, “Good luck!”

Rounding the north side, I faced the full brunt of the wind’s assault, a full-blown gale now coming out of the west. Standing in one place meant bracing yourself. I scrambled up the rocks toward the top, but the wind blew each of my steps a few inches away from where I had intended to step.

And yes, at the top, it felt like a freight train forcing me to lean into the wind just to stand up, doing its best to rip my stocking cap off. This is madness, I thought to myself. This is awesome, this is incredible. This is unforgettable.

I walked across the top of Rosario headland to the south side. A snapshot shows calm grass under a blue sky, the trees standing at attention, a shining sea below. A movie reveals more of the noise, the fury, the power of the wind, my camera shaking as I tried to hold it somewhat steady while my body was being buffeted. The reality is that it felt like standing on the wing of an airplane taking off.

I faced Bowman Bay, the waters wind-whipped but mostly flat in the lee of Rosario Head. The wind clawed into my jacket pocket, snatching a doggie bag and hurling it out of sight in two seconds. Sorry, everyone, I wasn’t intending to litter, but I’m just glad it wasn’t my stocking cap, which I now held onto with both hands.

A couple walked by, each leading a massive dog, great anchors against the storm. I walked back to the north side — no, ‘walked’ is the wrong word. I crabbed my way back to the north side, tacking into the hurricane. Three young hikers emerged, fighting their way to the top, leaning at a thirty-degree angle just to stand there. One of them jumped in the air trying to jump straight up, but the wind kept pushing him back three feet.

Catching wind

There are times when riding the wind can be so exhilarating. It was like riding a ship as the King of the World! The raw wildness brings out something in us, something hidden in our comfortable lives.

I braced myself for the scramble back down, back into the woods, again watching every branch, every rotten tree trunk, for any weapons they might rain down on me. In the lee of Rosario Head, the trees above me still roared, bending and hopefully not breaking as I walked by.

The sun had now disappeared in a growing bank of clouds filling the lower western sky. It was time for me to retreat back home.

There, on the leeward side of Fidalgo, sheltered amid the ridges, houses, and trees where we live, the wind still blew, but with nowhere near the same intensity, just a breezy evening.

The wild winds of Rosario remain unforgettable.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mMC74Aq64D0 (3:28 minutes long)

jack

And rain, a rising river, ripped-out roadways...

What a week for weather it has been. Ten to thirteen inches of rain fell in the mountains, which would have been 100 inches of snow if it had been colder, snow that would have been nice to have come the hot days of summer. But now it’s all back in the Salish Sea, having flooded our neighbors in Burlington and throughout the Skagit flats, as well as causing problems upstream with landslides, washed-out roadways, and falling trees. Our thoughts are with those who were hit hardest, who must still deal with the aftermath. Here is a link to the Skagit Community Foundation if you wish to lend a hand.

https://www.skagitcf.org/disaster-relief.html

Friday morning in Burlington

And here is a link to NOAA’s flood measurements in real time:

https://water.noaa.gov/gauges/mvew1

And more flooding is due now, though not quite as severe. We hope the levees continue to hold.

With our saturated soils, please be mindful of the potential of falling trees if the wind is blowing. Roots have little to hang onto when they are swimming in the soil. And be aware of the potential for landslides anywhere there is a slope. Unstable soils can slip at any time.

And as the story relates, please be mindful of falling branches even in light breezes, let alone a gale like yesterday.  These are serious concerns.

How fast were yesterday’s winds? I checked NAS Whidbey’s records, an airport exposed to the west winds much like Rosario. At 3:30 on Monday, they clocked them at 35 mph sustained, with gusts to 49 mph! That’s wicked wild.

Please be safe, be careful. The winds returned last night; the rains continue. And it’s not even winter yet.