Re: “Land Bank acquires Judd Cove property, Sounder September 3, 2008.”
Congratulations and bless you for the acquisition of the last remnant of Judd Cove property for public access. As only a small child can, who does not know the business of the world, I considered the area mine from the time we began staying there in 1943 when I was 18 months old until the early fifties when our family moved from Seattle to California. We rented the little saltbox beach-side cabin, the “Bluebird,” from Harry & Grace Fowler every August.
Mother cooked on an outside stove near the old lime kiln built of big rocks complete with chimney. Our table was driftwood boards renewed annually. We gathered milk, spinach and berries from Fowler’s farm and cherry stone clams, oysters & crab from the cove. For my two older brothers and me, the cove especially was an endless wonderland for us to explore. The Indian shell midden, hermit crabs, fishing for perch from the log booms, and beachcombing freshened regularly by the tide filled our days. There was even a snake that would take a swim in the cove on a hot day.
At low tide we would hurry to get started for the walk around the big rock on the point, where the tide would reveal myriad starfish, anemone and kelp. Occasionally such a low tide would reveal a big crab to pluck for our pot. The bounty, variety, unfolding textures, scents, and moods of the tide were endlessly fascinating.
We also had the run of Fowler’s farm. We would ride the horse drawn hay wagon, watch the sheep shearing, gather eggs and play in the barn.
In the late forties, Harry saw no alternative to putting in the log dump. He was a deeply protective steward of the farm. The milk, haying and sheep did not earn enough to pay the taxes on the farm with its special waterfront. The logging concession allowed him to keep it whole. My mother grieved about the degradation the operation would cause; particularly the siltation from bark sloughed from the logs.
However, the logging operation was also a new adventure with big challenges for my brothers and me. My oldest brother was big enough to actually be able and useful with a pike pole. He was on hand for every dump of logs. After hours we were free to explore the booms and rafts. Walking rolling logs was part of our play.
I believe Harry and Grace Fowler and my Mother and Father would be thrilled to know the logging dock and pilings will come out and the whole cove have a chance to restore itself.
We were offered parcels by Bruce at the time he and Bob inherited the farm, but we never wanted to be part of chopping up the cove. We returned for years as Bob’s guest on the point. When he grew old, and left the island for medical reasons, we returned rarely to Orcas. There was so little public waterfront access it didn’t feel the same.
Being raised on the tide gave me a perspective on time. As slowly as water comes and goes, it moves steadily and waits for no one. One must hurry along to keep ahead. There is a time for putting in the spade for cherry stones, a time for perch, and a time to sit back and allow the immensity of the sound to flood the spirit with peace and calm.
Moms, get your kids to Judd Cove to begin the wondrous adventure.
Laura Bliven Moseley’s husband Bill wrote, “This letter is a bit of heartfelt history and nostalgia from summers spent on Judd Cove as a child. It was written by my wife, Laura, who is seriously ill. The action by the Land Bank is deeply gratifying and encouraging to her, positive returns that may not have been anticipated in the negotiations.
