Winter Camping at Deception Pass, Day Two

During my first afternoon at the park temperatures were in the mid thirties, Fahrenheit. A night-time low of twenty-four was expected. My sleeping bag is rated for twenty-five degrees though, so I figured I would be fine. As it turned out that rating just means that one will not get hypothermia and die at that temperature. The cold woke me twenty times over the course of the night, making me anxious to get up and go long before it was a reasonable option. As soon as the black sky gave way to the faintest blue glow I sat up, still in my sleeping bag, and unzipped my tent door. I placed my tiny camp stove on the frozen ground and put on a little water for instant hot cocoa. The cocoa warmed me enough to get me out of my bag and into my cold boots. Then I stepped out to tend to a more important preparation; coffee. 

Coffee was delicious, but it was a race to drink it before the twenty-eight degree air drained its precious heat. The warm liquid in my stomach overcame the night's chill as the caffeine stoked my mind's excitement for the day ahead. After a second cup and some oatmeal I was eager to hit the trail. The sun had risen at this point, but its rays had not yet hit the forest where I was camped. Nearly jogging to warm my extremities I rushed towards the nearest hiking trails, which were at Goose Rock. I chose the perimeter trail, rather than the summit. I wanted to be by the water, but especially wanted to be in the sunshine that now warmed and illuminated the forest edge that trail followed. Ahead of me I heard a flock of American robins gregariously fluting their calls at each other. I suspected that they were having breakfast in the Pacific madrona trees that grow from the rocky shoreline and hillside. This was soon confirmed as I approached several madrona trees whose upper branches were laden with small red fruits and shaking with the comings and goings of hungry robins.

I couldn't get any good shots of the robins in the tree tops, but this male alighted on a shrub near me where I had a clear view of him. At first he was looking away from me, which doesn't make for much of a photo, but when he looked over his shoulder at me I got this rather comical shot. His apparent plumpness is largely a result of him fluffing out his feathers for insulation from the cold.

This fox sparrow perched briefly about thirty-five feet away from me to assess the scene. While they are common around Puget Sound during the winter I never see fox sparrows in Seattle. Those large feet and long claws are used for scratching in the duff for seeds and invertebrates. Like many of their relatives fox sparrows use a technique of jumping up while kicking backwards with both feet. The prevalence of this foraging method surely speaks to its effectiveness, but I have to say that it looks kind of silly.

This varied thrush female perched in a lower branch of a madrona after feeding in its canopy. Varied thrushes are close relatives of robins, and have the same fruit-heavy winter diet. But while robins form winter flocks varied thrushes fly solo. At a glance It's easy to miss this species among its cousins, but it's worth scrutinizing your local robin flock to get a look at a varied thrush.

After the trail wound from the east to the north side of Goose Rock I found myself in the shade. This dimmed the prospects for bird photography in that area, but I was afforded this sweet view of Mt Baker. 

From Goose Rock I crossed the bridge over the pass. While it wasn't particularly busy at the time, traffic and sight seers broke the peaceful mood of my morning up until that point. After crossing the 1,487 foot bridge I scanned the west side of the road for a trail head. Spotting one  a couple hundred feet up the road I jogged back into the forest with relief. A steep, winding trail led me down to Lottie Bay. Along with the small peninsula that separates it from Bowman Bay, this has always been a favorite part of the park for me. The trail ran through mature Douglas fir, Sitka spruce and western red cedar. Emerging from their shadows I found the smooth pebble beach of Lottie Bay enjoying the full sun of its southern exposure. Without even a slight breeze the air here was probably twenty degrees warmer than in the shade of the forest. Just moments after I stepped into the sunshine a pair of great blue herons flew over the bay. One carried on towards the pass while the other broke off sharply and alighted in a tall Sitka spruce by the beach. It was maybe forty feet up, but standing where I could see it from a good angle put me at least seventy-five feet away. A bit of along shot, but fortunately it's a big bird and I had a clear view of its perch.

A great blue heron soaks up the mid-day sun, surrounded by the recently opened cones of the Sitka spruce in which it's perched. 

This killdeer blends in well with the beach pebbles. The double breast band of this species distinguishes it from other similar looking plovers.

Shortly after entering the woods of the peninsula by the bay I spotted this Douglas squirrel, who retrieved an unidentified food cache from the duff and ate it on the spot. 

After photographing the Douglas squirrel, and some failed shots of a golden-crowned kinglet, I found lighthouse point sunny but uneventful. I watched a belted kingfisher and a pelagic cormorant from there for a bit but both were too far off for good photos. So I walked on around the other side of the peninsula. There I changed lenses to get this shot of a little fjord off of Bowman Bay.

Having changed lenses I decided to do some close-up botanical shots. Ever since I first saw a Pacific madrona tree I have though the colors and smooth texture of their bark were exquisite. Since taking up photography I have repeatedly attempted to capture that beauty, and until this trip I failed consistently. In this close-up I finally have a madrona photo for my portfolio. I want to have a large canvas of this image made for the next time I show my work.

When I saw this eagle soaring towards me I changed lenses and settings as quickly as I could, just managing to get this shot before it passed out of range. This is a second year bird. It takes bald eagles three years to develop the familiar and iconic appearance of adult birds.

Back into the forest, and back to my wide angle lens, for this one. The two trees in the center of the frame are a Douglas fir on the left and a western red cedar to its right. Also present in this forest are the other conifers that characterize low-elevation forests in western Washington; western hemlock, grand fir, Sitka spruce, shore pine and Pacific yew. I'm thinking that this image is another candidate for printing.

Back out on Lottie Bay the sinking sun was casting a warm, soft light on this thick growth of moss and lichen that adorned an old driftwood trunk. I played around with some wide angle shots that included trees and sky in the background, but ended up liking the simplicity of this close-up better. I've always loved moss and lichen. The Pacific Northwest abounds with both, and back in my point-and-shoot days I took countless crappy photos of them. 

The textures and colors of lichen-crusted wood fill out this this composition since it's subject, this dark-eyed junco, was so far away from me. But he and his rustic throne were nicely lit by the fading sunlight, and both were brought into relief by the dark forest background.

This was my last shot of the day. I needed to get back to camp and get plenty of firewood before it got dark. After the long, cold previous night in my sleeping bag I intended on spending more of this one up by the fire. I had a pretty good day of shooting, but was glad that there was another one ahead of me. That last day will be the subject of my next post.

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