Travel Stories: Indian Cove Road

(From my first solo trip, September 30th, 2009)

Yesterday, it rained for only the fourth time since I’ve been in Washington. I was determined to visit Shaw Island anyway, so I bundled up in a hoodie, pulled on a stocking-cap, wrapped a scarf around my neck, and wrestled my trenchcoat over all of it. The ferry ride was about forty-five minutes, and I disembarked at the nearly-deserted terminal as the rain became a light drizzle. Blowing on my icy hands, I began to walk.

Each of the islands I’ve encountered so far has a distinctive feel. Shaw is the smallest of the four major San Juan islands, and it has a small-town-country feel to it— but not in that Norman Rockwell sort of way. Rather, this is where a terrifying episode of Smallville would be filmed, or some low-budget horror flick, or perhaps a documentary of the Native Americans who lives here ages ago. I hiked along the empty road, glancing out at Blind Bay to my right, and the scrubby woodland and farmland to my left. I have an active imagination, but I managed to avoid freaking out until I was walking down a stretch of road that ran between evergreen trees, tall and thick and dark.

As I paused for a snack of peanuts, I heard a loud sound. My head snapped up, and I listened, waiting for it to return. It did: an irregular thumping, banging sound, as if someone just a few blocks away through the trees was pounding some huge drum. In any other place, I would’ve immediately recognized it as the sound of someone hammering wood, perhaps repairing a deck or siding. But something about the eerie echo, and the long spaces in between knocks, gave me a feeling of vertigo. Had I transported back in time and been caught trespassing on some Indian’s land? Was that the sound of war drums? How would I explain to my family if I got kidnapped or shot by an arrow? The knocking continued, and even the birds seemed to still to listen to it. I shivered, and picked up my backpack, and moved on.

The street from which the sounds emanated was named Indian Cove Road. It figures, I thought, and hurried on by.

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