Flutie says:

If you ever have to leave your home at 5 am one Sunday morning to drive three hours through pouring rain to a crew regatta in Vancouver, Washington, and you arrive bleary-eyed and coffee-less only to nab a parking space a mile and a half away from the actual race, so that you must propel yourself out of the car to run/walk around millions of other enthusiastic parents, crew members, boats, onlookers, clear to the water’s edge, only to catch your beloved offspring rowing his/her heart out in a boat clearly at the back of the pack, so that instead of cheers what’s required of you is consoling hugs and/or softly nuzzled encouragements as your disappointed child comes ashore, and instead of leaving post haste to commiserate over drinks you are then informed you must hang out (chairless, coffeeless, childless, foodless) at said park for four more hours until your offspring is free to leave for the three hour slog back home, then perhaps console yourself with a walk here: the lovely yet lamely-named Vancouver Lake North trail!

That is precisely what Stu and I did on a freakishly similar day not long ago. Look:

This is the where you start walking, once you’ve turned your back on the hordes of sporty revelers, only to have the path narrow, then narrow some more, until suddenly:

 

It’s impossible to underestimate how reviving tree faces are to one’s spirits! And look at the path you’re now wending along –  it’s downright delightful! Smooth, shaded, lovingly maintained by volunteers (or so I’ve read), simply picture-perfect. If they added twinkle lights dangling from the trees I might never leave. I’d set up house and become a tree-person myself.

Once you’ve wound your way clear through the woods, suddenly the sky lightens, the path widens, and you see this: A scene so idyllic and illumined it seems imagined. Here Up is down, Down is Up, The sky is blue, The water, too…And as you stand on the little orange bridge, surveying the scene, why, here come two paddlers way off in the distance…Was it crazy to imagine those rowers as clawed, couthy creatures, dressed to the nines in fine English haberdashery?

A Sunday stroll with Rat and Mole, perchance?

…”Intoxicated with the sparkle, the ripple, the scents and the sounds and the sunlight, he trailed a paw in the water and dreamed long waking dreams. The Water Rat, like the good little fellow he was, sculled steadily on and forbore to disturb him. 

‘I like your clothes awfully, old chap’ he remarked after some half an hour or so had passed. ‘I’m going to get a black velvet smoking-suit myself some day, as soon as I can afford it.’

‘I beg your pardon,’ said the Mole, pulling himself together with an effort. You must think me very rude, but all this is so new to me. So-this-is-a-River!’ 

‘THE River,’ corrected the Rat. 

‘And you really live by the river? What a jolly life!’

‘By it and with it and on it and in it,’ said the Rat. ‘It’s brother and sister to me, and aunts, and company, and food and drink, and (naturally) washing. It’s my world, and I don’t want any other. What it hasn’t got is not worth having, and what it doesn’t know is not worth knowing. Lord! the times we’ve had together! Whether in winter or summer, spring or autumn, it’s always got its fun and its excitements.” 

 –  Chpt. 1, The River Bank, from The Wind in the Willows, by Kenneth Grahame

Whether you’re by it or with it or on it or in it, this is a lovely little jaunt through these Wild Woods and along the River bank, as well.

I rank it as a classic, a ten, a veritable happy ending to our stormy-starting story.

PS – For an even happier ‘ever-after’consider stopping in at nearby LaPellah. It’s only a thirteen minute drive away and they offer one of the prettiest drinks you’ve ever seen. Plus, I know for a fact that their crepes are delicious!

Stu says:

This was a lovely walk, despite the tears of the senior rowers who didn’t make it to nationals.