This ragged northwest corner of our country has a personality all its own. Whatcom County. Had you been born there, as I was, you might have considered developing gills. I grew up in a cloud, praying fervently the night before a picnic for the rain to stop. That’s how much precipitation we get there, especially during the long dark days of winter. But then the sun breaks through and the whole world shimmers.
Why do I love Whatcom County? Where do I begin? The air is heavy year round with that evocative fragrance, a blend of evergreens, sea breezes and something unknown, found only in the Pacific Northwest. And there’s Mt. Baker, all 10,000 plus feet of her, rising at the end of my childhood street in the evening light, a giant strawberry ice cream cone. Baker offers the hiker views of the top of the world from endless alpine meadows. On a clear day, you can truly see forever, layers upon layers of snow capped Cascade peaks. From Baker’s three glaciers spring the beginnings of the Nooksack River, tumbling down into the valley, its nourishing snowmelt creating some of the richest soil in the world. On the road that leads to the mountain, you can take a right turn on a side road to Nooksack Falls, where the three branches of the river converge into one mighty torrent that plummets almost vertically down the mountainside. Stay behind the fence. Several people have ignored the warning signs and fallen to their deaths in that icy cascade.
Driving north late on a summer night toward Bellingham, my hometown, I breathe in the famiiar and pervasive scent of water; the mountain streams, the rivers, the lakes and bays and inlets, the rainclouds gathering behind the hills or over the sound, an abundance of water. Water everywhere, pulsing through the land, shaping it. I visualize the blue-green San Juan Islands floating dreamily off the coast to the west. In daylight, they seem close enough to touch, but tonight I have to content myself with imagining them. I catch a glimpse of Mt. Baker towering to the east, its shiny covering of ice and snow glistening in starlight. Soon the Samish hills will enfold me as I thread my way through them, headed for the town curling around the edge of the bay where my life began. There is no other place on earth like this place I call home.