Skagit Bay Trail - Oyster Dome (1.22.26)
The trail climbs steadily from the Samish Bay side, winding through second- and third-growth forest, shaped in modern times by the Department of Natural Resources as part of Blanchard State Forest. Even on a clear January afternoon, the woods hold onto the cold. Light filters unevenly through the canopy, breaking across the trail in brief flashes before disappearing again. Switchbacks lift the route higher, the forest thinning as elevation increases, until the rocky outcrop of Oyster Dome opens up.
Larrabee State Park lies just over the county line, a coastal park where the mountains meet the sea, their granite ridges jutting sharply toward the water in a way that’s unique to the northern Puget Sound. These are a backyard to those who know them, familiar terrain threaded with trails, rocky outcroppings, and tidal coves that shape the edge of the coastline. I’ve hiked this route many times, but it has been ten years since my last visit, and this January marked the first time I approached it from the Samish Overlook rather than from Chuckanut Drive. At this hour, with dusk approaching and a thick winter cloud cover settling in, the familiar landscape took on a quiet, introspective mood, the coastal mountains and forest holding the kind of stillness that only a Pacific Northwest winter can bring.
From the top, the view widens quickly. Samish Bay stretches below, its shallow water catching what remains of the day. Lummi Island sits closer, its low, familiar shape darkening first as the light thins. Farther out, Orcas Island rises behind it, the higher ridgeline of Mount Constitution in Moran State Park faintly defined beneath the cloud deck. As the sun drops, the islands separate into layers—foreground and distance rendered in different shades of silhouette, depth revealed more by absence of light than by detail.
Clouds flatten the sunset, spreading what light remains laterally across the Sound rather than igniting it. The scene quiets instead of flaring. Water, land, and sky settle into muted bands of gray and blue, the kind of light that favors patience over spectacle. On the way down, a few late hikers were still moving uphill. One carried an overnight pack, likely headed toward the campsites near Lizard and Lily Lake, about half a mile beyond the Oyster Dome junction. It will be a cold night up there, but the sky should be generous—stars sharp in the clear air, maybe even a trace of northern lights if conditions hold.
