Squires Lake Park: 'Coolest little wetland' nurtures the miracle of life
Skittish water striders skedaddle as he reaches for something he wants to show me. Bodensteiner teaches limnology (the study of lake ecology) at Western Washington University, so I'm betting that it's something good. And it is. Better than good.
The softball-sized, see-through, gelatinous mass he pulls from the water is one of those weird and wonderful reminders of how life is truly a miracle. Encased in the blob are more than 50 greenish marbles — eggs — each containing a larval salamander about a third of an inch long.
"These are just about done; they're ready to hatch," a wide-eyed Bodensteiner says. "You can even see their gills. In another week, there'll be salamanders all over the place."
One of the largest balls of Pacific giant salamander eggs that Bodensteiner has ever seen is just one of the many wonders at Squires Lake Park. Opened to the public in 1997, the 80-acre park straddles the Whatcom-Skagit County line and is co-managed by both counties' parks and recreation departments. Along with two lakes — Beaver Pond is about a quarter mile south of Squires Lake — the park offers about four miles of wooded trails, several interpretive signs, and benches on which to bask in the abundant tranquility.
"It's a beautiful place because it's not at all developed and it's set up against a hillside," says Lynne Givler, Whatcom County Parks operations manager. "The park also has a bit of history to it."
The one-third-mile-long trail that leads to the park follows the old Fairhaven and Southern Railway that was used to transport coal from Sedro-Woolley to Fairhaven in the late 1800s. The land itself was owned by the Squires family, who ran fish and fur farms on and off throughout the 1900s.
These days, the land draws seekers of peace and quiet and as well as those like Bodensteiner who are attracted by its rich offerings in flora and fauna. Eagles and osprey soar overhead while herons lope through flotillas of lily pads. With their teeth marks evident on a number of trees and their elaborate dams, beaver, especially up on Beaver Pond, have made their presence known.
"For being such a small lake, Squires Lake is surprisingly deep — about 45 feet, so you have this huge diversity of bugs and plant life," Bodensteiner says.
Among the more interesting lake residents are freshwater sponges, bladderwort — a carnivorous plant apt to munch tiny newts should one venture too close — and giant water bugs, 2.5-inch-long insects with a taste for small fish.
"They pierce fish that swim by and inject them with a toxin," Bodensteiner says. "Then they suck out the fish's body juices."
Yum.
A pond and a path
To get to Beaver Pond, walk to the south end of Squires Lake and pick up the trail, which tags along a babbling stream for about a quarter-mile. The pond's water level is low because it's choked with cattails and other vegetation, but it's still worth a visit. American dippers and seemingly every red-winged blackbird north of Mount Vernon calls this pond home.
For those who think that lakes and tranquility are nice, but who really lust for climbs that reward with panoramic vistas, the park doesn't disappoint. From the northwest corner of the lake, follow the sign for South Ridge trail and head south for about a mile. The trail isn't for the inattentive or careless. It climbs, narrows and eventually becomes very exposed to the right, with a deadly drop of several hundred feet.
Upon reaching a network of old logging roads — actually south of park property — go left-straight-right-left at the next four intersections and in a little less than 2 miles from the lake, find yourself at the top of Alger Mountain, also known as Alger Alp. On days when the visibility cooperates, the 360-degree views include Mount Rainier, the central to north Cascades, the Olympics, the San Juan Islands and Puget Sound, and of course, the nearby Skagit Flats. Total elevation gain is about 1,000 feet.
Keep your eye on the bog
Back on the northeast shore of Squires Lake, Bodensteiner stands on a bridge eyeing a cattail-sphagnum moss/lily pad/heavy bog that's fragrant with skunk cabbage. For a limnology specialist, it's heaven and Bodensteiner wears a look like that of a baseball fanatic gazing down onto Safeco Field for the first time.
"This is just the coolest little wetland," he says. "It's a classic bog that's been developing since the last Ice Age."
This bog is the realm of those giant water bugs that like to hang out on the undersides of lily pads, as well as countless frogs, newts, salamanders and other critters. The brownish water here is not dirty, but stained by tannins that emerge with the breakdown of organic matter. It's also deceptively deep, as Bodensteiner found out last fall in a class he was teaching. Thinking the bog was only a couple feet deep, he stepped into the soupy mix and found himself in water almost to his chin.
Not that he minded too terribly much. It's just yet another surprise lurking below the surface at Squires Lake Park.
Mike McQuaide is a Bellingham free-lance writer and author of "Day Hikes! North Cascades," to be published next month by Sasquatch Books.
 |
