A Night Camping in Horseshoe Cove

There are moments in life when the pace of everyday routines slows just enough to let us step outside and savor the simple joys. For me, it was an August midweek getaway with my 18-year-old son—a quick but rich journey from our home in Snoqualmie to the forests and waters of Whatcom and Skagit Counties. Two days, one campsite, and plenty of bird calls stitched into the memory.

Leaving Home and Heading North

We rolled out of Snoqualmie at 7:00 a.m., the mist still clinging to the foothills. Instead of heading straight to Bellingham, we made a detour to the Skagit Wildlife Refuge at Fir Island. The estuary was mostly quiet that morning, but we were rewarded with a small group of Greater Yellowlegs probing the mudflats. It was a brief stop, but worth it to start the trip with binoculars in hand.

From there, the drive carried us north on I-5 toward Bellingham, and by 8:45 we were walking through the campus of Western Washington University.

For my son, the WWU Bookstore was a novelty—rows of Viking-blue sweatshirts and stacks of textbooks hinting at futures yet to unfold. We also wandered over to find his dorm, giving us a better sense of the campus size even though most everything was closed for summer break. Before leaving, we picked up a coffee mug for Andy’s mother, who couldn’t join us that day. For me, it was a chance to share the energy of a college campus, its mix of history and modern sculpture scattered across the quads.

Café Rumba and a Forest Walk

By late morning our stomachs led us to Café Rumba, a Peruvian gem tucked on State Street. The lomito sandwich, layered with slow-cooked pork and house-made aji sauces, was as unusual as it was satisfying—exactly the sort of food I love to stumble across on a trip.

From there, we drove just far enough east to leave the city behind and enter a different world: the Stimpson Family Nature Reserve. The 3-mile loop trail wound through a cathedral of cedar and hemlock, the forest floor soft and quiet. We paused at Geneva Pond, where Wood Ducks skittered across the surface, and listened for the high, reedy calls of Pacific Wrens from the undergrowth.

Horseshoe Cove: Our Base on Baker Lake

By 2:00 p.m. we were pulling into Horseshoe Cove Campground, just as check-in opened. Nestled on the shores of Baker Lake, the campground gave us a lakeside home for the night.

After setting up our tent, we strolled the Shadow of the Sentinels boardwalk nearby. Here, ancient cedars rose like columns in a natural cathedral, draped in moss and alive with the flutelike notes of Varied Thrushes. As evening fell, we heard the haunting call of a Common Loon echoing across the water—an unforgettable soundtrack for our campfire dinner.

Day Two: Birding at Channel Drive

Morning at Baker Lake was cool and still, the kind of air that makes coffee taste richer. By 9:00 we were heading southwest, winding through the foothills until the road straightened toward the coast.

Our destination was Channel Drive, a ribbon of road along Fidalgo Bay. Here, saltmarsh edges, mudflats, and shoreline forests provide one of the richest birding corridors in Skagit County. We pulled over near the turnouts, binoculars at the ready.

On the flats, we spotted Great Blue Herons stalking patiently. Greater Yellowlegs, Lesser Yellowlegs, and Least Sandpipers fed in the mudflats. In the trees along the road, Chestnut-backed Chickadees and Black-headed Grosbeaks darted among the branches. A Pergine Falcon glided past. The bird list grew quickly, and the quiet rhythm of scanning the water together was exactly the kind of connection I had hoped for.

A Retro Lunch in Mount Vernon

By midday, hunger pulled us south into Mount Vernon. We stopped at the Lunchbox Diner, a small, cheerful spot with chrome trim and a classic diner feel. Plates arrived piled high: burgers with crisp fries, milkshakes thick enough to need a spoon. After a morning of birding, it was exactly what we needed—comfort food in the best sense.

Back Toward Home

By mid-afternoon we were heading south on I-5, the car quieter now as tiredness settled in. The trip was short—just two days—but it felt abundant: time in the woods, estuary birding, good food, and the satisfaction of setting up camp together.

Travel doesn’t always have to mean weeks away or plane tickets. Sometimes, it’s the small journeys that carry the deepest meaning. For us, Horseshoe Cove and Channel Drive were just that—an August pause, a chance to share the outdoors and return home with stories worth retelling.