Tubbs Hill Stories

Tubbs Hill is a special place. Many of us grew up exploring the trails, rocks, and beaches. Others found them later in life. We’ve had adventures and misadventures. We’ve discovered things about ourselves and the natural world. We’ve fallen in love. The following is an ever growing collection of stories from fans of Tubbs Hill. Enjoy!

Want to submit your own story?

The Tubbs Hill Foundation is collecting stories from the public, and we invite you to submit your own! What makes Tubbs Hill special to you? Tell us how the hill has impacted you or a loved one. Tell us about your favorite adventures. Tell us what you think is important for the world to know about this gem.

In the Moment

By George Sayler

For over 38 years my wife and I have lived a block from the east entrance to Tubbs Hill. It has been the source of many memorable experiences for our family, and not just in the summer, but in all seasons of the year. Spring, with its new growth and wildflower bonanza is, to me, the most colorful and inviting time. Summer turns my attention to its beaches and the cool water of Coeur d’Alene Lake. Fall grabs my attention and declares: “Look at me, see how colorful I am now and enjoy me”, and winter speaks of silence and snow-filled woods with a peaceful presence. There is truly something to do and to enjoy throughout the year on Tubbs.

One of the ways I most enjoyed the hill over the years and through the seasons is bird watching. As an avid birder I have learned to look for the resident birds found throughout the year and the migratory ones that only come during the warmer weather. The varied habitat types on the hill, from the sunny and drier west side filled with Ponderosa Pine to the shadier and wetter northeast side filled with a variety of trees and shrubs make it possible for a wide variety of species to reside on or visit the hill – over 80 species have been documented on the hill or around its shores. Occasionally I have had to rush home and quickly try to identify a new bird I had never seen on the hill before. Two particular birding encounters on Tubbs stand out in my memory.

Early in the morning of the first Coeur d’Alene Ironman my wife and I hiked to the top of the hill to watch the swimmers begin the race. From our viewpoint the swimmers looked like an army of ants thrashing its way through the water. It was quite a memorable sight. The most appealing thing about that morning though, was the thrilling dawn chorus of bird song that greeted us. A variety of species was present as we munched our breakfast; we watched with happy faces as they exploded from the trees in a feathered frenzy and flittered overhead like leaves tossed by the wind. Their presence made the morning come joyfully alive.. It was serendipity!

A few years later, it was an early May morning, with an overcast sky and the threat of rain when I learned a good lesson about “being in the moment.” As a birdwatcher I was on a mission to see at least one new and interesting bird for the year, enjoy that experience, and for once, not become caught up with creating the longest list I could of birds seen. This state of mind was sparked by a book I started reading called Zen Birding, a new concept that I thought might be helpful to a long-time birdwatcher looking for a deeper level of experiencing birds. Ah, experience rated rather than goal oriented! What I learned anew, was that the concept of being in the moment can enhance all of our contact with the natural world.

As I casually strolled the path on the east side of the hill, I was awed by how green the hill was: it resembled a giant irregularly shaped and textured quilt. It showcased the profusion of new spring growth stimulated by rain earlier in the week, and yes, temporarily in the moment I was aware of how beautiful it was, and how connected to it I felt. As I continued on, pausing often to take snapshots of the wildflowers, and to marvel at the new spring greenery, I also continued to look for birds. Not seeing any, I eventually began to lose focus on being fully present and more preoccupied with finding a bird, any bird (goal oriented again).

As I headed back down the hill past the water tanks, I resigned myself to the fact that the birds just weren’t there, and I should just deal with it. At that very moment, a flash of yellow streaked by on my right side into a tree ahead of me. With luck and excitement, I was able to see and identify a beautiful Western Tanager, its orange and yellow head and breast glowing in the subdued light. A moment later I spotted a Western Wood Pee Wee, another captivating bird whose diminutive stature gives credence to its name. It was darting our from a branch to snag insects, At the bottom of the trail, a glorious Yellow Warbler offered a sweetly sung song and a view from the blossoms of the Chokecherry tree at the entrance to the trail (experience oriented now). Renewed in spirit, I headed home, trying to puzzle out how this experience related to the idea of Zen birding and being in the moment.

At its heart Zen birding is a journey into greater awareness of the world around us through watching and truly experiencing not only birds, but the world. It asks us to take the focus off ourselves, our semi-conscious scramble of thoughts and preoccupations, to see beyond ourselves to a broader context. It can help us connect more fully to nature and to other people and restore a sense of calm. I have learned that impatience, false expectations, and being overly focused on a particular outcome are barriers to being fully present and aware, but in our time of present trouble if we all are able to take such an approach to life, perhaps, we could be less stressed and more hopeful. The natural world can be a healing and uplifting presence if we let it.

I am no Zen master nor a practitioner of Zen, but I encourage you to take a walk on Tubbs Hill with a Zen attitude. A Zen master once said: “If you want to see, open your eyes”. In my wandering on Tubbs I had failed, at times, to see what was there; a beautiful world that I was a part of. When my eyes were opened by the glorious Tanager, it was a transforming moment. I became more a part of my environment – the world around me, my place in it, and less merely a detached observer.

Over the years there have been many other special moments on Tubbs Hill, such as watching my grandchildren jump off the rocks into the lake for their first time, becoming part of a long tradition of rock-jumping from the hill. At other times it might be a solitary walk on the hill to a vantage point and looking out over the lake in a meditative state of mind, or just walking the main path with my wife and our dog. When I am in the moment, and fully aware and present, these are the kind of experiences to be thankful for. I am also aware, that when I am not in the right state of mind, being on Tubbs can change that. One thing I know for sure, we are fortunate we had visionaries who lead the charge to keep Tubbs Hill as a place for all the people to experience. Our part is to enjoy it in its many aspects, and do it in a responsible way.

There are many birds that visit Tubbs Hill, more than 70 species, but there is so much more asking for your attention. Try having your own moment by focusing your attention on the beautiful environment and the many life forms Tubbs Hill provides us. It will lift your spirit!

Tubbs Appreciation

By George Ives

As the seasons change and the days grow shorter, it seems more important to remember the joy that others have brought over the years. The friendships we have forged become like spring itself— something that we can look forward to returning to again and again, each day brighter than the day before.

From Foundation founders like Art Manley and Scott Reed through today’s fellow trail workers I have personally been blessed to engage with an ever-growing string of real characters, engaged members of our community linked together by their abiding commitment to Tubbs and a sincere desire to see future generations enjoy the legacy that we continue building. Getting to hand carry buckets of beach sand to fill holes on the shoreline trail with Mary Jo Brooks or hacking out toe-busting protrusions with Pulaskis alongside Jon Engels and Mark Weadick have been sweaty labors made almost fun because of the camaraderie. And trail projects were safe as well as memorable events under the leadership of trailmeister Dave Yadon as we followed the guidance of Todd Dunfield who shared his NW Land Conservancy expertise….and of course there was always Mary Duff to capture the good deeds in progress. The list goes on cause it’s been quite a crew.

It seems especially rewarding as the years slip past to continue the legacy passed down by Scott and Art; our efforts may indeed be fleeting, but Tubbs remains a treasure.

Rain or Shine, Tubbs Hill is a Friend for Life

By David Kilmer

I’ve just returned from an early morning ramble on Tubbs Hill, and once again, the place has worked its charms.

My lungs still feel the sharp inhalations of air shared with fir, moss and ferns, and my feet still feel the drumming of the trail. As I climb back into my tugboat at the Floating Boardwalk Marina, and gaze out the portside windows at the object of my unreasonable affection, I remember the full moon through those trees last night.

I watch now as the trail welcomes other runners and walkabout dreamers, and I try to put into words the vast affection so many of us feel. How can a few acres of wild land mean this much?

One thing’s for sure. Every time I’ve needed Tubbs Hill, it’s been there for me.

It’s a remarkable place; a rock-and-pine peninsula that feels more like a private island, so near The Coeur d’Alene Resort and downtown CdA that in a matter of minutes I can be transported there. I’ve hiked, ran, paddled and swam Tubbs Hill uncounted days, and come away better every time.

When I needed some male bonding with my boy, I cannonballed off a high rock, a local rite of passage. When I needed clarity, I sprinted up the steepest trail I could find and stood victorious at the top, with whatever small problem I wrestled now resolved – or maybe just dissolved. And when I needed consolation, I simply sat there and let Mother Nature, the master therapist, go to work with clouds, sunlight, rain and wind in the branches overhead.

Tubbs Hill Reflection

By Lesley Yadon

The sky is the brightest of clearest blues- the kind that grows wings on your feet & sunbeams in your heart. I look up at it through the piney green of the evergreen trees rising far over my head, the earthy, fresh forest smell rolling over our bodies as we hike through the cool morning air. It’s the brightness of the sky contrasted by emerald that draws my attention from the soft needle strewn path of Tubbs Hill. It never fails-- this small outcropping of earth and rock and tree, to sooth each ruffled layer of my body, mind, heart, soul. 

I’ve been coming here since I was a tiny girl and will return, I hope, until I am well past this 41st year of life. I have walked or run or strolled this place alone and with my family in every season. 

I’ve felt the heat of summer settle a laughter filled, golden dryness over the pathways. Autumn with welcome crisp mornings and passing rainfall quiets the energy and brings a last bold, blazing color. Winter pads through the forest with a whisper of snow and frozen trails. Running there with my dad, our breath is nearly as visible as the geese passing above. And spring. Oh spring launching relentless rain and an effervescent green boiling up and greeting the newly sparkling sun deprived water of Lake Coeur d’Alene. Wildflowers burst or quietly emerge in the higher meadows. When you breathe, in those meadows in the spring, you breathe life and joy, you catch a glimpse of the transient bliss and pain of Existence.

Here’s what I’ve come to understand: Tubbs can be a recreational space, an object used for merely its physical presence. You can walk and smoke and drink and swim oblivious to the Sanctuary this place is. And the land will hold you. It will swallow your carelessness and disconnect and continue to offer a place to play. Or. Tubbs can be for all of us, a Refuge, a sanctuary, a holy escape into peace. You can still walk and play and run but can you also take a moment to FEEL. There is an energy. Stop. Breathe fully and mindfully, feel the quiet settle in through your skin and bones. What can you sense when you really to stop to listen and feel? What can you receive when you set aside our human chatter and competition and distraction?

I feel an ancientness. A sacred pause. It lands in my body like a gentle beckoning. It makes me wonder what indigenous people lived here and how they loved this outcropping of land. Tubbs Hill has been here eons longer than you and I and will exist, in some form, far past our brief breath of life. I FEEL that. I connect my temporary self to the slower, quieter, older Earth in gratitude and surrender. 

This land holds us in a deep, grounding way. And that holding, the generosity of always existing no matter our abuse or disregard challenges us to care for the Land in return. 

Let’s look closely and mindfully at the flora and fauna. How can we give back? How can we respect and protect the hill that has become a highway for our town and tourists? You have to answer this inquiry from your own heart of course. I do humbly offer this though:

All care begins from a place of soulful knowing----

Next time you use Tubbs Hill, slow down, breathe. Get close to the ground and notice what tiny subtle life exists on the forest floor. Smell the changing seasons. Observe the trees for health. Touch the stone so you know the texture and solidity of their presence. Pick up trash someone less caring or knowing or thoughtful has left behind. Treat your time in this Sanctuary as if entering a dear friend’s home. Know this place in your mind, body and heart. Know it intimately, like you know the contours of a Beloved’s face.

For this knowing will bring a deep respect and a warm love out of which springs your unique action to preserve, protect and respect this place we call Tubbs Hill, one of the last few stretches of land by the lake not privately owned.

And, if I meet you on the trail, our eyes can connect in a joyful understanding of the Sanctuary we enter, arriving more whole in our Knowing.