by Sophia Mattice-Aldous
On Thanksgiving Day, I pressured my brother, William, and 71-year-old mother to walk through sideways rain, wind that tries to push your nose through your brain if you’re silly enough to face it, and ford several puddles that had ambitions of being ponds.
So, how has your holiday season been?
Per usual, I’m getting ahead of myself. This spur-of-the-moment decision came when the three of us decided to go for a walk in Leadbetter Point State Park on the Long Beach Peninsula. My brother had decided he wanted to spend his birthday week, which also happens to be the week of Thanksgiving, by the ocean and invited mom and I to accompany him. Of course, we said “yes” as our family has always had an affinity for traveling to that part of the state long before William and I were born. Unless it’s dangerous storm conditions, we always go for a hike or walk on the beach every day we’re there. This Turkey Day was no different. Donning our rain boots and coats, we sallied forth to the Willapa Wildlife Refuge, ready for the salty sea air and to pique our appetites for Thanksgiving dinner.
Quick aside, but if gray, continually wet weather isn’t your jam, visiting Long Beach in the winter is not for you. No shame in knowing what you do and don’t like, and if you don’t like wrapping yourself up in the sartorial equivalent of saran wrap, then visit in the spring and summer. There are more people during the warmer seasons, but the weather is more enticing for getting outside.
We had the wildlife refuge mostly to ourselves, except for a few trekkers who we exchanged holiday greetings with. We read all the educational plaques highlighting the habitat and the over 300 species of birds that nest in Willapa Bay.
Then we came to the fork in the trail after a roughly two-mile jaunt. We could hook a left and head back to the parking lot or keep going on Weather Beach Trail that would lead us into the forest, out to the dunes, down the beach, and back into the forest again to round out the loop. Acting like the grandiose nature girl I was pretending to be, I challenged mom and Will’s preference to head back to the car.
“What are we going to do, just go back to the cabin and stare at our cell phones until dinner?”
Challenge accepted. We struck out on the trail, not minding the soggy grass and occasional mud puddle. No fighting over politics whilst eating pumpkin pie for us; these hobbits were on an adventure. Then we came to our first puddle. It was long, but shallow. No problem, why buy raingear if you’re not going to use it? We continued, the trees heavy with thick green moss and the sound of the surf not far off.
Then there was another puddle ‒ a little longer, a bit deeper. You can see where I’m going with this. By the time we rounded a corner and came to the puddle that was just a couple ounces from being a swamp, we could either go back the way we came or press on.
Hiking in the rain.
“We’ve come this far,” I announced with much hubris and little foresight. “It’s probably not that deep if we find the right spots to step.”
Oh, I was a naïve, summer child in a coastal winter world. As I took a step on what I thought was a firm knot of grass and dirt, my foot sunk right through it with a loud plop, followed by a rush of cold water that cascaded over the top of my boot. I looked behind me and saw mom and William commit to the bit, following their very lackluster guide (me) onto the flooded trail.
We would do this again at least several times.
“Are we having fun or what?” I asked cheerily, a sunny tone of voice that did not match our current situation.
“I think we’ve reached the ‘or what’ part,” mom quipped as William linked arms with her and helped her navigate the pool we were wading through.
Allow me a humble brag on the resilience of my family. We were only halfway done and almost as wet as said ocean that was through the trees off to our right. There could have been finger-pointing and several rounds of the blame game, all rightfully directed at me. There could have been grousing and short tempers. Instead, we sang sea shanties, playfully cajoled one another, and William even found some whale bones on the beach (which we could not recover from the sand and tide, despite our efforts, and probably for the best).
The closest we came to any sort of behavioral warning was when we were pushing through the last portion of the flooded trail, unbeknownst to us. I was applauding mom and Will for their pluck and good spirits.
“If this water comes up to my nips, Soph, I’m going to run you down and tickle you until you piss your pants,” Will said.
I give thanks that the day did not end that way.
Sophia Mattice-Aldous is not a doctor, personal trainer or dietician, so if you’re looking for that kind of exercise and health column, it’s not this one. However, she is a lifelong Washington resident and reporter with an affinity for The Great Outdoors who thinks fitness should be fun, and that looks different for everyone. For her, it’s going outside. If you have questions and/or comments, including hiking suggestions. email [email protected].