Copper-barked madrona lean toward the water along a quiet bluff drive, the channel flashing silver through the gaps and the San Juans low and blue beyond. The land begins to narrow again.
Peel your eyes off the road for half a second and look at the bark on that tree leaning toward the water — copper, almost orange, curling off in papery ribbons. That's madrona, the only broadleaf that stays green all winter up here, and it loves these saltwater bluffs. Beneath it, the dark vertical hush of Douglas-fir, most of it second growth, grown back tall since the old logging days. Through the gaps the channel keeps flashing silver, and out past it that low blue line of humped islands is the San Juans, catching a clear northern light. The road's quiet here, the forest close on both sides. Something big is coming, though. You can almost feel the land start to narrow.