DB: City Natural

This Sunday a friend and I found ourselves with an open afternoon and a hankering to walk in the mildly cool December air. The sky was at least half clear and our breakfast had settled nicely as we pondered our exit of the well advertised flea market in the bowels of Sanford and Son’s antique mall.

Deciding where to spend a Sunday stroll isn’t really a tough call for me. Ruston Way is nice if you like to walk in a straight line to nowhere and back while dodging wheel-bound spandex gapers, and Wright park is alright if you are in the mood to flirt with nature for a short time. But where to spend an entire afternoon outdoors? Where to walk for more than a half a mile through the untouched lush Northwestern jungle? Tacoma is endowed with a near holy, path-cut patch of rolling forest, most of which is bordered by the beauty of the Puget Sound. Point Defiance stands in its aptly named unconditional green fury. Somehow halting the passionate development of its view laden real estate at the gates and keeping itself as comfortably public as a library book, while still seeming as private and meaningful as my nightstand dream-journal.

We parked at the front lot, finding the five mile drive much more enjoyable as an exploratory hike. The trick is to walk whichever way you want away from the pavement. The trails are marked with little shapes or collections thereof, but for me there is little destination in mind when I am already where I want to be. Steep slopes can fall away to open views of the dense and tangled ravine walls and around the bend narrow trails can shrink into hushed tunnels of moss laden foliage. Even on a Sunday afternoon we only passed a handful of foresters like ourselves, a few of them were pretending to be joggers and the rest strolled happy just shouting out the names of the delicate mushrooms they passed.

My friend and I stopped in a quiet nook of some spidery trail and sat on the polished and wide root of a nearby pine. A group of elderly REI outfitted trekkers wondered by, and after that a family with their well trained dog, but behind them was only 20 mins of uninterrupted conversation about the kinds of things that a misty, dewy-mossed fold of the natural world can inspire. The smell is the most incredible part of the park to me. As I become convinced I am breathing the arial equivalent of wheatgrass juice, my memory is taken to the countless afternoons spent exploring the lake ridden woods of unincorporated Pierce County as a child. As much as I love our urbanesque grottos and walkable neighborhoods, my first love is the wild and I’m not sure I could live in a city without this easily accessible slice of natural law.

Compelled by the failing light we walked onward toward what seemed the most west to our pleasantly wondering souls. As we reached the top of a slight incline the colorful sunset began to pour onto us in its magnificent pinks and golds. Somehow approaching Ft. Nisqually from the back we watched the sun lay down on the sharpened cone log tips of the wall and frame the humble keep as the ultimate destination for any wood-wondering travelers such as ourselves. I reached out and took her hand and we crossed the meadow and found myself in awe of all that is free and alive and filled with goodness. Zoolights has nothing on the sun sinking behind the cliffs of Gig Harbor, a sight I have seen countless summer eves as I lay in the branches of beach growing trees. A sight I hope to see now and again for a very long time.

We are very fortunate to have had such foresighted founders to have established this park. How easily it could have been developed and made into more of the blocks and shops that we can, even now, hardly fill. It is perhaps our crown jewel, this cities’ saving grace and her most noble and proud attribute to any progressive newcomers seeking our commune.