Boulangerie
A hazy sunrise greeted me as I zipped open my tent. There was already a trail runner up here looking out over the bay – we made eye contact and he absconded without a word.
I couldn’t linger for long – I had 26 miles to Anacortes, where I would resupply, and then I would try to camp stealthily in the Anacortes Community Forest. There was almost no legal camping between here and Deception Point State Park some 40 miles ahead, so I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do. I made my way down from Oyster Dome, encountering a lucky porta-potty at the trailhead.
When I made it down to the road, the first car that I saw slammed on its brakes and pulled over. Leaning out of the windows were Rebecca and Marguerite! They had stayed with a trail angel the previous night, and they were getting a ride a few miles down the road to a bakery. I happily agreed to come along for the ride.
The bakery (0931P, “Breadfarm” on Cairns Ct in Edison) was a small space with lots of people inside, and every time the door opened, the bakers would ask politely for someone to close it quickly in order to maintain a consistent temperature. I was hoping to find coffee, which they didn’t have, but I ended up getting two fig bars, which I didn’t actually want, but I was too anxious to figure out what I wanted under pressure.
I sat with Marguerite and Rebecca outside while we ate our treats. Marguerite complained bitterly that she hadn’t found a half-decent baguette along this whole trail. They planned out their next move – hitching partway to Anacortes – and asked if I wanted to join. I declined and said I’d walk unless someone specifically pulled over and asked me for a ride.
Conscious of the time, I set off on my long roadwalk. The sun was starting to beat down. Just a few minutes outside of the hamlet of Edison, I saw Rebecca and Marguerite roll by in a tractor-trailer. I half-regretted not going for a hitch, but continued anyway.
The roadwalk took me over flat farmland. Fancy sports cars whizzed by me, and I passed a gaggle of fishers wading in a muddy stream. At one point I took a side road to take a shady break and fill up on water from a stream. About 10 minutes later, I realized that I had left my phone there, and I had to double back to retrieve it.
The road grew closer and closer to the bay, and the houses became more dense. It must have been low tide, because the bay was nothing but a vast expanse of wet mud. I’d never seen anything like it.
My mood declined as I covered more miles under the hot sun. I was hungry, probably dehydrated, and running out of food. The Padilla Bay Shore Trail (0938P) was a nice break from the pavement, but the wind picked up and buffeted me endlessly. I really needed a break near the end of the trail, and a huge gas station ahead of me offered just that.
I ate a delicious lunch of gas station pizza and cold water. The air conditioning was blasting and I was so grateful for the brief shelter.
From the gas station, I had about two miles to hike following highway 20. There was a wide shoulder to begin with, then a handy bike route followed alongside the road. Unfortunately I ended up following the bike route too far – I found myself about 50 feet underneath the highway bridge going over the Swinomish Channel, with no direct way up. I was able to backtrack about half the way, then do a steep scramble up a pile of rocks underneath the highway bridge and climb over the concrete barrier onto the bridge sidewalk.
The official PNT route here goes around March Point, but a road exists to cut off probably 70% of that walk. I was feeling sun-tired enough that the cutoff was worth it. And Bugs had tipped me off that there was a coffee shop along the cutoff as well. I stopped in for a quick ice coffee, with no actual time to break, and trekked on toward Anacortes.
The trail to Anacortes was a long boardwalk followed by a very populated pedestrian/bike path. I was speedwalking and wanting to go faster than most other walkers, but the path was populated enough that negotiating my passes became very awkward at times. I eventually made it into town and booked it north to the Safeway. Without even stopping, I collapsed my hiking poles and shoved them in my backpack, then shoved the backpack in the bottom of a shopping cart. I cruised around and bought exactly the amount of food I thought I would need to sustain myself until I made it across the Sound to Port Townsend, plus a sandwich to eat immediately.
I sat on the curb and speed-repacked my groceries, then pulled out my trekking poles and continued on my way.
I spent about an hour wandering through suburbia on the “PNT” until I came to the edge of the Anacortes Community Forest. This little labyrinthine trail network at the edge of town seemed so beautifully utopian to me. Every town of 15,000 people should have a community forest, as far as I’m concerned. It was well into the evening by the time I made it there, and I was quite conscious of the waning sunlight. Still, I hoped to make it a couple miles and then find a spot to camp. I put on the corny Antarctigo Vespucci album Love in the Time of E-mail – not sure why, maybe I was feeling heartsick for my partner Nikita back home, or maybe I needed some glittery pop-punk to keep my energy up. Possibly a combination of the two.
I navigated through the labyrinth with the help of my compass, maps, and the trail guide. The trails were numbered, so I was constantly repeating the sequence of the next three numbers to myself. It didn’t help that some of the numbers on the map and trail guide were different than the ones in real life, but I managed to not get too lost.
I finally set up camp just when it became too dark for me to hike without a headlamp. I found a little flat spot at the very edge of the forest, with some suburbia-style houses just in view. As I was setting up my tent, a dog in the backyard of one of the houses heard me and started barking in my general direction. I froze. I was pretty concealed in the woods. Its owner came out of the house, looked around nervously, and corralled the dog back inside with one final glance over their shoulder.
I exhaled and continued to set up as silently as possible. Despite being in a strange and probably-illegal camping spot, I got a good night of sleep that night. I had to if I was hoping to make another 30 miles to the Happy House the next day.