It comes naturally
Writer feeds his inner explorer with bugs, buzzards
Staff writer
Having lived in Washington State for nearly a decade, I’ve come to realize I was spoiled.
I’ve snowshoed on Mount Rainier — the state’s highest peak — and had Point Defiance Park, an urban park spanning 760 acres, practically in my backyard. Trails were everywhere.
Hiking and walking were just as enjoyable for me as much as the landscape I grew accustomed to. So when I heard about Willow Walk Trail at Marion Reservoir, I knew I had to check it out.
At 1½ miles in length, it wasn’t a long or difficult trek. A storm the night before had left behind a blanket of clouds, and the wind made my morning feel downright pleasant compared with triple-digit temperatures that preceded it.
I spent maybe too much time there — nearly two hours — though the entire walk probably could be completed in 30 minutes.
But I wasn’t in a hurry.
Relatively untamed aside from the trail itself, there was an off-the-beaten-path feel.
Fallen trees lay along, and sometimes on, the trail. Spider webs stretched across the path, forcing me to duck, weave, and occasionally stop altogether.
Dodging them became almost an aerobic exercise of its own, like navigating lasers in a heist film.
I apologize to the spiders for webs I ruined.
As I made my way along the path, I kept thinking to myself: “Am I in Marion County anymore?”
Willow Walk Trail winds through three different habitats: shoreline, forest, and tall grass prairie. For much of the walk, I was alone. There was a stillness to the place that was calming, especially for someone accustomed to more developed parks and busier trails.
I was surprised by how little wildlife I saw besides birds and bugs and a lone squirrel that darted across the path. Maybe the animals were lazy after that storm. Or maybe they were better at hiding than I was at finding them.
Either way, the scenery gave me plenty of reasons to stop.
Water rippled along the shore. A flower caught my eye. Some had insects crawling all over them. Trees with three-inch needles sticking from their trunks made me pause and compare them to my fingers.
None of these things were extraordinary on their own, but altogether they made the walk feel like a small reprieve from rolling hills and endless green pastures that define the Flint Hills.
Those pastures are beautiful, don’t get me wrong. As author Jim Hoy once said: “The Flint Hills don’t take your breath away; they give you a chance to catch your breath.”
But this felt different.
A hawk screamed overhead as it carried a small animal across the lake in its talons. Blue herons squawked nearby, marking the first time I’d heard them in person. I found a near-perfect spot to view the lake and let a cool breeze move across my face at the northernmost point of a cove.
For a few minutes, there was nothing I needed to do but exist.
Aside from buzzing insects and chattering birds, the only sounds I heard were cows in the distance and wind whipping through trees. A couple of times, groups of buzzards avoided my camera as if I were paparazzi.
There’s more to take in than scenery, too.
Educational plaques scattered throughout the trail explain different endemic plant species, offer tips on searching for animals, and describe the role each habitat plays in Marion Reservoir’s ecosystem.
The trail became a reminder that even a place I thought I knew — east-central Kansas, with its familiar hills, pastures and farmland — still could surprise me.
I was enjoying the final stretch through tall grass when, almost suddenly, my car appeared around the final bend.
The real world was waiting.
For being a kid who grew up with an abundance of walking trails, I’ve found my new spot for a quick getaway.
It may not be Mount Rainier or Point Defiance. And that’s OK.
Sometimes all you need is a 1½-mile trail, a cool breeze, a quiet lake, and a couple of hours to yourself.
My only regret?
Not packing any bug spray.