LONG BEACH, Wash. – With the meticulousness of a surgeon ready to operate, a young man – dressed in a light blue T-shirt and black jeans instead of hospital scrubs – caresses the edges of Clark’s Tree, then positions his ear against the bark, taps the trunk a few times and listens while a hollow sound resonates against a backdrop of wind and sea.

“It’s amazing,” he says as he turns to my friend Arlene and me, his astonished expression revealing what he and so many others have learned: This isn’t a real tree after all; it’s a bronze replica of one.

Clark’s Tree marks what’s said to be as far north as the Lewis and Clark Expedition traveled on Washington’s Long Beach Peninsula two centuries ago. Etched into the replica sculpture are the words: “William Clark November 19, 1805 By land from the U. States.” The facsimile tree also serves as the northern terminus of the Discovery Trail, an ofttimes sand-and-gravel and sometimes paved path that courses a tad more than eight miles over the dunes, along the beach and through the forest from here to Ilwaco.

Although the trail remains uncompleted – originally it was intended as a 10-foot-wide paved path – it affords an opportunity to traverse a lengthy slice of the Long Beach Peninsula’s splendid seacoast. Along the way, a hiker might view scenes that have changed only slightly since Lewis and Clark visited in 1805.

A sea of grass

Strolling the Discovery Trail south toward Seaview, Arlene and I make a discovery of our own: For a precious few moments, we feel almost engulfed by a sea of luxuriant dune grass. The yellow-green growth, planted here decades ago to stabilize the fore dune, sprouts hip-high on either side of our undulating route. When we meander down tiny knolls into depressions within the dunes, the lush foliage practically fills our panorama, save for a row of shore pine or the roof of some structure situated even farther back from the beach than where we’re walking.

This section of the trail is paved. Walkers, cyclists, inline skaters, kids, canines and moms pushing baby strollers are all prevalent, particularly along the stretch that parallels the Long Beach boardwalk between Bolstad Avenue and Sid Snyder Drive. “Watch it!” Arlene cautions when one of those low-slung three-wheeled cycles tourists rent comes whizzing by, almost clipping my leg.

At the “foot” of 17th Street, the pavement ends, marked by an interpretive sign appropriately entitled “Through Rugged Country.” Indeed, the trail’s now-gravel surface quickly gives way to sand, and our route morphs into a mile-long traipse through the dunes all the way to the Seaview Beach Approach Road. From this point, hikers are better off using the beach, as Arlene and I do. Later, we learn that the unfinished trail through Seaview awaits the outcome of litigation brought by a group of adjacent property owners.

Threading Beard’s Hollow

The towering cliffs of North Head are clearly visible in the distance. But where do we turn upland to reclaim the Discovery Trail? On a hunch, we head east away from the beach somewhere past the last lodging south of Seaview, then merge with another sandy and brushy path that appears unpromising. But whaddayaknow, within a hundred yards or so we reconnect with the trail (if you’re unsure about your route, continue south along the beach).

On a sunny day, people walk along the Long Beach Boardwalk.This portion of trail, which winds through a dense dune forest of shore pine and wax myrtle far from the Long Beach hubbub, turns out to be our favorite. The soft hissing of the ubiquitous bunch grass proves a counterpoint to the omnipresent roar and rhythm of the sea. Nothing is truly quiet in this most comforting of environments.

“Are you sure we’re going the right way?” Arlene inquires when I turn east toward a narrow passage between sheer walls of rock. Being a guy, I refuse to ask for directions and, anyway, there’s nobody around to ask. Besides, I’ve been to Beard’s Hollow before, and I recognize this path that threads through the cliffs, then wanders beneath an alder canopy to an elegant bridge.

A pedestrian strolls along the Discovery Trail.Kerplunk! Some shy critter – Arlene says it’s a beaver; I’m thinkin’ big frog – submerges in the water below us, but refuses to resurface when we gaze intently downward. From the far side of the bridge, we slog uphill for a half-mile before crossing Robert Gray Drive. The trailhead’s obvious on the other side.

On to Ilwaco

No highway noise. No power lines. No signs of civilization. Crows that we hear but cannot see squawk from tree branches above. This is still wild country, I tell Arlene while we hike up, then down (then up and down once more) the Discovery Trail’s final mile. Old snags intermingle with younger conifers, alders and impenetrable ground cover on either side of our course, a wide swath of gravel and rocks that are just big enough to be potential ankle biters.

Clark’s Tree, a 20-foot bronze sculpture, overlooks the north end of the Discovery Trail.”Betcha we’ll see some wildlife,” I say interrupting our silence, self-imposed so we can glance here and there while still watching our footing. Almost on cue, a coyote scampers across the trail not 50 feet in front. A sizable swamp lies low to our left, and Arlene thinks she sees an osprey take flight from one of the weathered snags. We round a bend and cross a final bridge that skirts the tail end of the wetland.

The bridge’s walkway doglegs left, then zags abruptly right. We pass beneath a wooden archway and onto a steep downhill section of pavement that outlets at Second Avenue S.W. and Main Street S.W. in Ilwaco.

Signs point the way to downtown, where we’ve arranged for a pickup. In the company of our driver, Arlene and I proceed to Ilwaco Harbour Village (at the Port of Ilwaco) for a well-deserved libation and lunch.