The magic of Trails Next Door: Why WTA wants to see your photos from local trails

Trails Next Door is a category for WTA’s 2024 Northwest Exposure Photo Contest. One WTA staffer shares her perspective on the power of urban trails — and why they’re worth your photographic attention.

Sunset at Edmonds Marsh. Photo by Linnea Johnson

By Linnea Johnson 

I was having a tough day. I felt anxious and jumbled, as if my brain was a relentless conveyor belt of thoughts and worries.

At moments like this, I look for the nearest trail. 

Some fellow birders had recommended Edmonds Marsh to me, and I’d been meaning to check it out. I knew I lived close, but I couldn’t imagine where it would be along 104 West, home to countless nautical businesses and sometimes miles of cars awaiting a ride on the ferry to Kingston. 

As I drove down the busy thoroughfare, my phone told me the marsh was 1 minute away. “How??” I wondered, seeing a gym and a strip mall on the left, a ferry terminal straight ahead and a steep hill to my right. As my GPS said that my destination was a mere 400 feet away, I began to worry that the marsh had been razed for development — or that I had the wrong place. But lo and behold, behind the athletic club, there was a row of parking spots, a blackberry hedge and … the entrance of the boardwalk. 

Binoculars in hand, I emerged from my car. The plick-plock of a pickleball game rang in my left ear and music and laughter from a nearby brewery in my right. But as I stepped from asphalt to wooden boardwalk, the sounds of the city faded into the background. Before me was an expanse of thriving marshland, bathed in golden late afternoon sunlight. Cattails lined the black brackish water, dotted with islands of vegetation verdant from the late spring rain. 

Before I could lift my binoculars to my eyes to identify the waterfowl near the opposite shore, an osprey soared directly overhead and across the marsh. The raptor swooped down to the water, but instead of launching skyward with a fish grasped in their talons, they plopped into the shallows and proceeded to take a bath. I had to chuckle as the osprey dipped its head underwater while ruffling its feathers, splashing sparkling water in every direction. Even the ducks nearby seemed unperturbed, perhaps even entertained, by the display. 

Walking heel-toe down the boardwalk, trying not to disturb the sacred quiet, I watched a family of mallards with four teenage ducklings glide across the open water towards a bunch of the cattails. On a small island in the middle of the marsh, plump killdeer rested on their stilt legs. 

Holding still, I observed the subtle drama as birds of many kinds vied for that very island. First, the duck family  approached the island and unseated the killdeer. Minutes later, a great blue heron soared into view and landed on the tiny swatch of land, and the ducks awkwardly sidled to the edges to make room before choosing to glide away and give their tall cousin space to fish. 

As I watched the birds living their lives, smelled the rich, damp earth in the air and listened to the gentle wind in the trees, the hamster wheel of thoughts in my brain slowed. I felt my pulse settle and the tension in my shoulders relax. The marsh brought me into the present moment. 

• Local Parks & mental health
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• Researchers have found that spending time in green spaces helps anxious minds rest.
  
  The sights and sounds of natural places are easy for the brain to process, slowing rumination. Watching and listening to birds have been found to have myriad mental health benefits, such as such as relief for anxiety and paranoia.

I wasn’t there that night to take pictures — but something about the experience called me to get my phone out and snap a few photos, including this panorama. Looking back at that photo now, I’m transported to the marsh at the golden hour, and am reminded of the power of a local trail to transform my day. I included the photo in my trip report with the hopes that it would inspire my neighbors to visit Edmonds Marsh and find their own respite there. 

Now, I’m submitting the photo to Northwest Exposure Photo Contest’s Trails Next Door category — not to win (staff aren’t eligible anyway), but to help expand WTA’s library of photos that communicate the power of local trails for good. Photos can move mountains by inspiring legislators to fund trails and by moving hikers to take collective action by volunteering, donating or speaking up. And action for parks will only continue to become more critical; not only are urban parks hugely beneficial for mental health — they also help increase climate resilience in communities most vulnerable to extreme events.

I hope that next time you’re walking your favorite Trail Next Door, you’ll snap a photo — no matter if you’re working with a high-tech camera or your phone. Whether you win a prize or not, your photo will help WTA build a future where nature is in reach for everyone in Washington.

Each year, WTA receives (and loves) thousands of submissions to Northwest Exposure Photo Contest featuring sweeping mountain views, crashing waterfalls or miles of wildflower meadows. But local trails offer a different kind of magic: in their proximity to home, they welcome rest, healing, surprises and joy into everyday life. That’s why we want to see the magic of local trails through your lens — and why we can’t wait to have a local trail as a winner.

Submit photos of a trail that’s close to your heart and home to the Trail Next Door category of Northwest Exposure Photo Contest.

Enter your photos