Wild Seattle

"Dead Horse Canyon" sounds grim, but it's a 35 acre nature park smack in the middle of Seattle. We took a walk there this weekend and had the place to ourselves on a cool and cloudy Saturday morning.

Taylor Creek runs down through the park, named after the Taylor Mill, which sawed logs on the southeast shore of Lake Washington in the 1800s. In 1909, homesteader and logger Charles J. Walker named the ravine Dead Horse Canyon after the death of a well-known horse that had roamed the area. Because the canyon was steep, nothing was ever built there, and in 1950 the land was deeded to the city.
Volunteers have recently cleaned up trash, planted native plants and built a walking path up the canyon. A magical stairway...
Notice on this August morning, John is dressed in his summer wool.
Salmon fry were released not long ago in Taylor creek, running below this bridge. A new culvert was placed from Lake Washington up to the creek, right under frantically busy Rainier Avenue South. Hopefully this will give the fish a way back to spawn, but it won't be known for years if they make it.

Whoa! Big slugs have the right-of-way.

On the other side of town, West Seattle's Schmitz Park is a tiny oasis of old-growth forest. It's an enjoyable walk down a steep path toward Alki Beach. Here's John, blazing the way through the shady glade on a warm day in July...
It's a city park, but this area is also left as natural as possible. It has a stand of ancient trees that the loggers somehow passed over. Other massive trees are down, like this one over a ravine. The top is worn smooth from daredevils walking on it.
Here's a pattern of roots growing over the top of a nurse log. Close to home, opportunity for nature photography...
And everywhere, lush vegetation. The little stream through Schmitz Park was "daylighted" several years ago. This means that water once diverted through a culvert is redirected above ground to restore the creek to a more natural state. The creek ends several blocks from Puget Sound, so unless the salmon can cross asphalt, they won't be returning here. But it's still encouraging to get out and see the hard work volunteers have done to save little pockets of nature in the big city.