The Bridge That Took Me On A Magical Adventure

Remembering to play and use my imagination as an adult

My head was full of thoughts, and my brow was furrowed. Work cluttered my head as I walked the beginning of the Billy Frank Jr. Nisqually National Nature Preserve trail, WA. I hoped that nature would take me out of my head and into the present, but I had yet to look up from the weather wood planks beneath my feet carrying me out across the marsh.

A woman waved to me and gestured to the marsh. “Look,” she said. I turned to look at what she was pointing to. What is it? A deer? An eagle? A lion?

“Look at the beautiful ducks!” She said with a smile on her face. Ducks, I thought, how anticlimactic. I stopped to look regardless. She was right. They were beautiful ducks. I hadn’t seen black and white ducks before, but what was more impressive was that they dove completely underwater, unlike the mallards that kicked their yellow webbed feet in the air with their head underwater. These ducks were called Bufflehead ducks, and I watched them for several minutes as they disappeared underwater and resurfaced.

I was so glad that the lady waved me over, as I’d probably still be walking with my head down, missing out on all around me. Maybe I am a bird watcher now, I pondered.

I realized I needed to get out of my head and into the present moment to see what was around me. I saw how the blue skies and white fluffy clouds were reflected off the calm water in the pond. I was thankful it was a lovely day after days of rain and clouds. What else is around me that I am missing?

The next thing on the bridge that I noticed was the moss. Just when you think you couldn’t get more anti-climatic than ducks, right?

The way it grew in the grooves in the wooden handrail was beautiful. I began to recall some facts I had read about moss. Moss was the first plant on earth as it was adapted algae from the sea, and there are over 10,000 different species. I ran my fingertip over the tiny, rootless plant. It felt like velvet.

I proceeded on the marsh bridge, now fully immersed in my environment. I then came to an artificial delta. The marsh had been created to turn the area into farmland. It was a creative idea that turned the area into a widespread habitat for wildlife.

Along the way, signs describing the birds in the area, and I realized I wanted to see a yellow-rumped warbler. I passed people with cameras with lenses that could see Venus, and I felt a little silly taking pictures next to them with my cell phone camera.

I spotted a peregrine falcon landing on a dead tree stump. You could barely see it as its feathers camouflaged it into the area. I stood trying to take a decent photo of it as an older lady walked up to me to see what I was taking a picture of, and I pointed out the falcon. She walked a few feet away from me with her cell phone out.

“Look,” she said, “an eagle.”

An eagle? I don’t recall seeing one of those in the wild. I looked, and sure enough, a bald eagle was sitting on the highest tree branch like the king of the skies it was.

I stayed there awhile, trying to get a better picture of the falcon and hoping it or the eagle would take flight. But they stayed put on their branches. I remembered the park closed at sunset, and I was pushing it, having spent so much time watching the ducks and birds of prey.

I picked up my pace as I realized I had a long way to go. The second bridge was the main attraction, going out across the sound. It was low tide, and some puddles were all that remained beneath it for now. Another falcon was flying straight at me and swooped up at the last minute, giving me a bit of a fright. I pulled out my phone and took photos of it.

I was almost to the second bridge when an older woman with long, curly gray hair stopped me and, with a big smile, said, “Happy Imbolc!”

I looked at her and blinked, wondering if I knew that word. My face must have given it away as she explained that Imbolc was the halfway point between the winter solstice and the spring equinox.

“Today we are sliding into spring,” she said with music in her voice.

How lovely, I thought, sliding into spring. Walking away, I wondered if I had just met a witch in this enchanted land. I hurried along, but I had a skip now in my step as I walked, feeling as light as one of these birds.

Most people were already returning from the second bridge. If I hurry, I can make it to the end, I thought and began to power walk. I didn’t want to be the last asshole on the bridge the park rangers had to yell at. So, I felt comforted by the few stragglers that were behind me. I tried to stop taking pictures and focus on getting to the point.

But the colors! The colors were too much for me not to stop and take photographs. The mud looked bronze, and the pine trees in the foreground contrasted with the blue sky and water. Especially with the dark clouds that were rolling in.

It’s getting dark and not from the sun setting. Uh-oh, I didn’t bring a raincoat. I decided to give up on my quest to reach the end. I made it far enough and decided to start back. I was a good two miles from my car, and those clouds were coming fast.

Then, I spotted a great blue heron tucked up by a fallen tree. It faced the incoming storm unflinching. It stared at the foreboding clouds, almost surrendering to the approaching storm. These animals have a lot to teach me, I realized.

As I turned back, the wind whipped like a smack in the face. The rain came at me sideways as I hurried along the wooden bridge. I was utterly exposed out here. The enchanted land had turned on me, and it was time to go.

I reached the delta; only half of my clothes were wet from the horizontal rain. I reached the fork in the road and could return the way I came or complete the loop by going into the unknown trail. The rain had subsided some, so I chose the unknown trail.

The marsh forest looked different in the stormy skies. I felt like Dorothy from Wizard of Oz, who just entered the haunted forest. I crept along, letting my imagination go wild. I saw faces in tree trunks and branches like hands. I listened carefully for a cackle or a wolf’s howl.

As if on cue, a tree branch fell to my left. I jumped and got the feeling I was no longer welcome. I couldn’t help but smile as I was having a great time. My work worries were no longer important. I was an adult at play. I felt like a kid again, making up unknown dangers that lurked about.

Through the dark trees, I saw the glowing light from the visitor center. I was getting close. As the bridge ended, I saw a bird sitting in a tree. It wasn’t a yellow-rumped warbler but an American Robin.

I sat in my warm and dry car and smiled. When I started my walk, I was an adult overburdened with responsibility. Making up adventures on my walk would have seemed as silly as admiring ducks.

At the end of my magical adventure on that bridge, I was closer to the little girl who climbed trees and made up stories. I felt more grounded than ever on that bridge above the seafloor and in my imagination.

This article was written in response to the Globetrotter’s monthly challenge, bridges. If you would like to read other fantastic submissions, I recommend the articles by Erie Astin and Carol Labuzzetta, MS Natural Resources, MS Nursing.

Thank you to the incredible editors at Globetrotters, Jillian Amatt - Artistic Voyages, Adrienne Beaumont, JoAnn Ryan, Anne Bonfert, and Michele Maize, who have been so supportive and professional in the running of this publication. Please consider giving Globetrotters a follow and check out their excellent articles.